The Player

I waited for my opponent to make his next move. He didn't appear to be a renowned chess player, seeing as he wasn't overly confident in himself. If anything, he seemed a little smug. He had a reputation, although I wasn't really too sure what it was for. As we began playing, I realized what he was all about. He was good. He wasn't a loud player and he wasn't a cocky player. He just moved the pieces in a matter of fact way. It was entrancing to watch. He was very good indeed, and yet it was his subtly that made losing to him that much easier. The previous players that beat me were unbearably loud and egotistical, but this man was neither. And yet there was just something about him that made me dislike him more than all the rest. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but it made me uneasy inside. With every piece of mine that he would claim, I began feeling more and more queasy. My skills were nowhere close to his. The level of play he was on completely outmatched me. The man on the other side of the table was going to completely obliterate me and it gave me an awful feeling like I'd never felt before.

I was on the brink of sickness when someone tapped me from behind on the shoulder. I turned around to see a man looking down at me. One look at him caused all of my inner pain to vanish immediately. There's no saying why I was so comforted, but his presence filled me up with joy. I didn't feel lost anymore. I didn't feel like the man across the table was in control anymore. Without him needing to say a word, I calmly stood up and allowed the man to take my spot. I couldn't take my eyes off of him either. My opponent immediately contorted his face into a look of both disgust and anger.

The man who had taken my place handled my rival with ease. He had somehow managed to take my pathetic and gap ridden army and turn it into a fortified and splendid array of pieces. With every move the rival made, the wonderful man would counter it quickly and effectively. Eventually, my opponent got so frustrated that he simply flipped the board over and stormed out of the room.

The man stood up and headed towards the exit. I was so amazed by his play style that I didn't feel worthy of following him. As soon as he reached the door, however, he turned around and gestured for me to come with him. In an instant, I gathered up my chess set and scuttled out the door with the man who had come up and saved me from tremendous defeat. The most horrible and twisted player I'd ever faced was stopped solely by this man that I could call my friend.