I’m but a child watching a chess game. I can see the players concentrating hard, thinking five, six, even ten steps ahead. Moves and countermoves, bluffs and double bluffs. One troop here, another there – all maneuvers towards the end goal. Towards the big prize.

Big wins requires big sacrifices. I see the pawns lying dead on sun-scorched sands and in snake-infested forests. Yet, the players sip their scotch and press ahead with their next step.

Time to interfere, to blow the chessboard into pieces. Everyone wins, everyone loses.

I’m but a child watching the game.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Today’s prompt is from Jeff Arnold. Please find other entries here.

Total words: 94



  1. Perfect title with hints of anger simmering beneath the surfaces, yet he watches and waits for a time to strike. Nicely done.


  2. World is a big chess board. Everyone is planning not only next move but moves several decades later.


  3. Nice anti-war piece. You make the transition smoothly from the game to the battlefield, emphasizing the detachment of both kinds of “players” and the narrator’s powerlessness.


  4. Reminiscent of the ludicrously misnamed Great War.
    Politicians sending millions to die.
    I think it was Haig who said ‘The fact is, old chap, that war has one great advantage over chess.
    When you lose a piece or two, they are easily replaced.’
    Love your piece.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I throughly enjoyed this seasonal story, which reminded me of a warring family of nations, circa 1914-1918. Most of us are but mere children in the games that the leaders of nations play.


  6. This has such a truly menacing feel about it. Could be an enemy soldier, but even more chillingly, could be a terrorist bomber. Well done.


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