The Chess Master


The semifinals. I could not believe it.

Andrew had been after me to teach him chess for the last year. Finally, I agreed.

Andrew thumped me our third game. By the seventh game… no contest.

He was good. He was better than good.

Chess was all he wanted to do. Gone were baseball and soccer. No longer was mastering jazz on his sax a cool endeavor.

I threw on the brakes, somewhat.

We reached a mutual understanding. (Imagine, needing a peace accord requiring an eight-year to participate in playtime.)

One sport was required each season. Music lessons were reduced to just one-half-hour a day. Grades in school were to be at a B+ average.

For these concessions, I promised a Master’s Federation tutor and a chess tournament quarterly.

After being victorious in his first four 16-and-under tournaments, Andrew was now in his first Adult Federation Challenge.

New York City. Central Park. The semifinals.

Written for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Requirements: Using the photo prompt create a flash fiction story of 100-150 words.


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