Post by Edward Cheever on Mar 3, 2009 8:05:01 GMT -6
Here's my short story in its finished form for the contest!
[post contest results: Won 1st place! ]
Nexus
Jesse Holts didn’t know why he had decided to walk through Washington Square Park that afternoon. Not that it wasn’t a beautiful day, you understand, it was quite lovely. No, but Holts had places to be, things to do. Holts wouldn’t be taking time out of his busy day just to take a stroll; not when his fiancé, who was also his agent, waited at the studio. Yet there he was. He casually readjusted the stiff cardboard tubes hanging from his back.
Black Pawn to E5.
He glanced around as he walked, slowly panning the crowds of observers hunched over the mental combatants of the chess district. He’d never had any time to come here and watch, though he had wanted to more than once. Instead, he was reduced to dabbling with the Chessmaster on his computer.
Over near the far end of the district, one lone old man sat at one of the chess tables, gazing idly at the trees overhead. Lonely chess players were a rare sight, in Holts’ experience. Out of curiosity he let his feet guide him towards the man. As he passed by, he noticed that the first move had already been made. One black pawn stood near the center.
Holts turned, “Doesn’t White normally move first?”
The man’s evergreen shaded eyes watched him for a moment, then he leaned forward and picked up one of his white pawns.
White Pawn to E4.
“I already knew what move my opponent was going to make,” he said, “and I got tired of waiting.”
“Who’s your opponent?”
“You.” He said with a grin.
Holts grinned in return. “Sorry, I don’t really have time. I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé in town.”
The man’s gray eyebrow rose. “Then why are you here?”
Holts didn’t know what to say to that.
The man reached out and picked up a second pawn. “Are you going to play, or not?”
White Pawn to F4.
Holts stared at the board, thinking about Amanda at the studio. He waited four years for her to accept his ring; he could make her wait thirty minutes for theartwork. Feeling reckless, he placed the tubes on the ground, sat down across the table and reached out to his black pawn.
“I guess I’ll just have to see your gambit, old man.”
Black Pawn captures F4.
Flashing aged, but cleanly white teeth, the man extended his hand across the board. “Anderson Tegmark.”
Holts grasped the weathered hand, “Jesse Holts.”
“Good to meet you, Jesse.
“Good to meet you, too, Mr. Tegmark.”
Anderson sat back and moved his hand over his Bishop. “Call me Andy.”
White Bishop to C4.
“You play here a lot, Andy? Do you really like chess that much, or does life just get boring when you get old?” Jesse asked, grinning sarcastically.
Black Queen to H4.
“Check.”
“I haven’t ever felt bored, but I suppose that would be a preferable life to a regretful one.” Andy said smiling.
White King to F1.
Holts’ grin slipped a little. Looking at Andy’s merrily wrinkled face he decided the old man didn’t mean anything by it. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Black Pawn to B5.
“So what do you do, Jesse?” He said, eyeing the tubes. “For a living, I mean.”
“I’m an artist.”
“An artist? Are you into penciling?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because an artist wouldn’t casually roll a painting into a tube.”
“True, but I don’t do pencils. I’m a digital artist.”
“What? Do you use Paintbrush or something? I would have pinned you as a hands-on sort of guy.”
White Bishop captures B5.
Holts rolled his eyes. “I’m an artist, not a doodler.” He pursed his lips. “But you’re right, I actually prefer charcoal. What gave it away?”
Black Knight to F6.
“You make aggressive moves with your pieces. Charcoal, huh? It suits you. But what I want to know is why you’re here.”
White Knight to F3.
“You’re not going to ask me why I’m doing digital instead of charcoal?”
Black Queen to H6.
“What’s the difference?”
White Pawn to D3.
“You’ve lost the center,” Andy said, looking at Holts with all seriousness.
“You trying to be existential or something?”
Black Knight to H5.
“Fine, then. Why do you do digital art?”
White Knight to H4.
“Is there something wrong with digital art?”
Black Queen to G5.
“Not at all. I happen to enjoy George Grie’s work especially.”
White Knight to F5.
Holts grimaced. “Grie? Maybe if you enjoy desktop backgrounds.” Holts picked up a pawn and pointed it at Andy. “Have you heard of the DD Show, downtown? Digital is getting big, and I’m going with it.”
Black Pawn to C6.
“DD?”
“Digital Dreams.”
Andy looked incredulous. “What?”
“Look, I didn’t make up the name, alright? But I’ve got pieces debuting there.”
Andy looked down at the tubes of art, then back at Holts with a raised eyebrow. “It’s important to you?”
White Pawn to G4.
“Of course it is.”
Black Knight to F6.
“No it’s not, Jesse.”
White Rook to G1.
“What makes you think it’s not? I’m good at it. My agent believes I’ll do exceptional. She’s already peddling my work to other art exhibitions. The art I have here isn’t for the show.”
Black Pawn captures B5.
Andy pointed at the stickers on the side of the tubes that read ‘Digital Dreams.’ “Besides, digital art is too removed. You want the kind of art you feel while you make."
White Pawn to H4.
“They’re not part of the show, my agent is just thinking of adding them to the display. She wanted to see them this afternoon.”
Black Queen to G6.
“So this whole digital thing is your agent’s idea?”
White Pawn to H5.
“I didn’t say that.”
Black Queen to G5.
“She sounds pretty controlling. Could you imagine having someone like that for a wife?”
White Queen to F3.
Holts’ hand froze over the chess board. He swore he heard sarcastic irony in the old man’s voice. Amanda. He’d waited so long to give that ring… what was he waiting for? He couldn’t imagine. No. No, she had his best interest at heart.
“She has my best interests at heart.”
Black Knight to G8.
“That’s encouraging, I suppose.” Andy said, as he mused over the pieces. “Wait, your agent wants to see you this afternoon? I thought you were going to see this Amanda of yours.”
White Bishop captures F4.
Holts looked up from the board sharply. Had he mentioned her name? He must have. “There’s plenty of hours in an afternoon.”
Black Queen to F6.
“Obviously. You have time to sit and play chess, after all.”
White Knight to C3.
“What does it have to do with you?” Holts asked angrily. “Here I am, nice enough to stop by and play a game with some old guy, and all I get from you is some sort of interrogation. What’s it to you? It’s my art, my life, my agent, my fiancé. At least I don’t spend all day playing chess in the park.”
Black Bishop to C5.
Anderson’s evergreen eyes gazed over his clasped and wrinkled hands at Holts’ lined, frowning face for several minutes. “You didn’t come here to play a game with me. I came here to play a game with you.” He said quietly.
White Knight to D5.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Black Queen Captures B2.
Reaching over to their discarded pieces Andy picked them up. His old hands fumbled with them for a minute, the two black pawns, two white pawns and a white bishop. He grasped the group with his left hand and picked out a white pawn with the other, holding it aloft between them. “Jesse,” He began. “It’s painfully obvious you don’t really know what you’re doing.”
He threw the pawn over his shoulder and picked out a black pawn.
“Your relationship with Amanda, your agent, is so mixed between intimacy and business that you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. For that matter, you don’t know what those words even mean anymore.”
He threw the black piece over his shoulder and held up the bishop.
“Because she guides you in business, you let her make all the decisions for you, in all aspects of your life. You waited years before she finally said yes to your proposal, and you even gave up your real artistic vision to her ambitions.”
He tossed the bishop aside, proffering a black pawn.
“To follow her lead, you let her shut you down. You distanced yourself from everything, even as you distance yourself from your art.” Anderson gestured at the board, “You lost your center, your passion, your dreams, early on. Now you wander aimlessly, shooting off aggressively in all directions while ignoring your core issues. Amanda hasn’t had a real conversation with you in over a year, muchless any discussions or arguments.”
He threw the pawn aside and grabbed the last white pawn.
“Let me explain something to you,” Anderson said, as he lazily eyed the piece in his hand. “Just like physical objects and matter can be designed in such a way as to channel energy, so can decisions channel lives. In physical matter, these connections run through all things. The larger, more obvious connections are sometimes called ley lines,” He dragged his index finger through the air in a series of geometric shapes, “mountains, coasts, rivers and other geological formations create complex connections all over the globe, but people misinterpret their purpose.
“In lives, it could be called guided fate. It sounds like a paradox, but it only means that the choices we make have inevitable consequences. The Japanese call it ‘Hitsuzen.’ All physical matter directs all energy, inevitably into one point, the center. All lives and decisions have to revolve around a center, and all of these purposes connect to one another, inevitably leading to the center. Where all purposes and all energy meet, the Nexus is formed. You could say it is the heart, or perhaps the crossroads, of all creation.
“You have positioned yourself poorly, Jesse. You’re walking into a self-made trap, and you’ve left behind everything that makes you yourself. Lives that lose their center either self destruct, or they drift to the center of everything:the Nexus.
“Consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t take the cab to the studio. Because you took a walk in the park, because you came here, you did not die when the cab was demolished in a car wreck. Instead, you came to the Nexus.” Anderson swept his hand over the board. “Look at your life. Every choice you’ve made has led to this.”
White Bishop to D6.
Andy smiled. “It’s your move.”
Holts stared at the weathered old man in stunned silence. Slowly, his mouth dry and cracking, he said, “I don’t know how you know all that, and I don’t care. I don’t know how I got caught up playing this stupid game when I should obviously be somewhere else.” Holts stood up, grabbing his bishop. “You’re crazy. You’re crazy, and I don’t have to listen to this. I’m going. But you know what? I’m going to make one last move before I leave. Do you know why?” He pointed at Andy’s rook. “Because you left yourself wide open, and I just can’t help but take advantage of such a lousy move.” Slapping the rook off the board he firmly put his bishop down it its place. He looked thingyily at Andy. “And you said I positioned myself poorly.” He turned to pick up his art and walk away.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Anderson said warmly, “You did align the Nexus perfectly.”
Black Bishop captures G1.
“What do you mean I aligned…” Jesse stopped in his tracks. Wide-eyed he dropped the tubes from his hands and turned around. Everything looked the same, Andy, the chess board; but… it was different. It was completely different. The board filled his vision.
It wasn’t so much a chess board as it was a picture; a framed portrait.
He tried to turn around; to run away.
It wasn’t so much a picture as it was a window frame.
Invisible ropes were strung from every bone in his body, pulling him toward the chess set.
It wasn’t so much a window as it was a door.
It opened. He fell through.
The people around the park walked, talked and played games. The birds sang, and the trees swayed in the breeze, making the mottled shadows that fell over the old chess player dance. The chess set once more sat undisturbed, both sides set except for one lone black pawn.
The gatekeeper’s smile faded. He always wondered where they went when they went through. Reaching his wrinkled old hand across the pieces he knocked the black king over with a grin. “Checkmate.”
[post contest results: Won 1st place! ]
Nexus
Jesse Holts didn’t know why he had decided to walk through Washington Square Park that afternoon. Not that it wasn’t a beautiful day, you understand, it was quite lovely. No, but Holts had places to be, things to do. Holts wouldn’t be taking time out of his busy day just to take a stroll; not when his fiancé, who was also his agent, waited at the studio. Yet there he was. He casually readjusted the stiff cardboard tubes hanging from his back.
Black Pawn to E5.
He glanced around as he walked, slowly panning the crowds of observers hunched over the mental combatants of the chess district. He’d never had any time to come here and watch, though he had wanted to more than once. Instead, he was reduced to dabbling with the Chessmaster on his computer.
Over near the far end of the district, one lone old man sat at one of the chess tables, gazing idly at the trees overhead. Lonely chess players were a rare sight, in Holts’ experience. Out of curiosity he let his feet guide him towards the man. As he passed by, he noticed that the first move had already been made. One black pawn stood near the center.
Holts turned, “Doesn’t White normally move first?”
The man’s evergreen shaded eyes watched him for a moment, then he leaned forward and picked up one of his white pawns.
White Pawn to E4.
“I already knew what move my opponent was going to make,” he said, “and I got tired of waiting.”
“Who’s your opponent?”
“You.” He said with a grin.
Holts grinned in return. “Sorry, I don’t really have time. I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé in town.”
The man’s gray eyebrow rose. “Then why are you here?”
Holts didn’t know what to say to that.
The man reached out and picked up a second pawn. “Are you going to play, or not?”
White Pawn to F4.
Holts stared at the board, thinking about Amanda at the studio. He waited four years for her to accept his ring; he could make her wait thirty minutes for theartwork. Feeling reckless, he placed the tubes on the ground, sat down across the table and reached out to his black pawn.
“I guess I’ll just have to see your gambit, old man.”
Black Pawn captures F4.
Flashing aged, but cleanly white teeth, the man extended his hand across the board. “Anderson Tegmark.”
Holts grasped the weathered hand, “Jesse Holts.”
“Good to meet you, Jesse.
“Good to meet you, too, Mr. Tegmark.”
Anderson sat back and moved his hand over his Bishop. “Call me Andy.”
White Bishop to C4.
“You play here a lot, Andy? Do you really like chess that much, or does life just get boring when you get old?” Jesse asked, grinning sarcastically.
Black Queen to H4.
“Check.”
“I haven’t ever felt bored, but I suppose that would be a preferable life to a regretful one.” Andy said smiling.
White King to F1.
Holts’ grin slipped a little. Looking at Andy’s merrily wrinkled face he decided the old man didn’t mean anything by it. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Black Pawn to B5.
“So what do you do, Jesse?” He said, eyeing the tubes. “For a living, I mean.”
“I’m an artist.”
“An artist? Are you into penciling?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because an artist wouldn’t casually roll a painting into a tube.”
“True, but I don’t do pencils. I’m a digital artist.”
“What? Do you use Paintbrush or something? I would have pinned you as a hands-on sort of guy.”
White Bishop captures B5.
Holts rolled his eyes. “I’m an artist, not a doodler.” He pursed his lips. “But you’re right, I actually prefer charcoal. What gave it away?”
Black Knight to F6.
“You make aggressive moves with your pieces. Charcoal, huh? It suits you. But what I want to know is why you’re here.”
White Knight to F3.
“You’re not going to ask me why I’m doing digital instead of charcoal?”
Black Queen to H6.
“What’s the difference?”
White Pawn to D3.
“You’ve lost the center,” Andy said, looking at Holts with all seriousness.
“You trying to be existential or something?”
Black Knight to H5.
“Fine, then. Why do you do digital art?”
White Knight to H4.
“Is there something wrong with digital art?”
Black Queen to G5.
“Not at all. I happen to enjoy George Grie’s work especially.”
White Knight to F5.
Holts grimaced. “Grie? Maybe if you enjoy desktop backgrounds.” Holts picked up a pawn and pointed it at Andy. “Have you heard of the DD Show, downtown? Digital is getting big, and I’m going with it.”
Black Pawn to C6.
“DD?”
“Digital Dreams.”
Andy looked incredulous. “What?”
“Look, I didn’t make up the name, alright? But I’ve got pieces debuting there.”
Andy looked down at the tubes of art, then back at Holts with a raised eyebrow. “It’s important to you?”
White Pawn to G4.
“Of course it is.”
Black Knight to F6.
“No it’s not, Jesse.”
White Rook to G1.
“What makes you think it’s not? I’m good at it. My agent believes I’ll do exceptional. She’s already peddling my work to other art exhibitions. The art I have here isn’t for the show.”
Black Pawn captures B5.
Andy pointed at the stickers on the side of the tubes that read ‘Digital Dreams.’ “Besides, digital art is too removed. You want the kind of art you feel while you make."
White Pawn to H4.
“They’re not part of the show, my agent is just thinking of adding them to the display. She wanted to see them this afternoon.”
Black Queen to G6.
“So this whole digital thing is your agent’s idea?”
White Pawn to H5.
“I didn’t say that.”
Black Queen to G5.
“She sounds pretty controlling. Could you imagine having someone like that for a wife?”
White Queen to F3.
Holts’ hand froze over the chess board. He swore he heard sarcastic irony in the old man’s voice. Amanda. He’d waited so long to give that ring… what was he waiting for? He couldn’t imagine. No. No, she had his best interest at heart.
“She has my best interests at heart.”
Black Knight to G8.
“That’s encouraging, I suppose.” Andy said, as he mused over the pieces. “Wait, your agent wants to see you this afternoon? I thought you were going to see this Amanda of yours.”
White Bishop captures F4.
Holts looked up from the board sharply. Had he mentioned her name? He must have. “There’s plenty of hours in an afternoon.”
Black Queen to F6.
“Obviously. You have time to sit and play chess, after all.”
White Knight to C3.
“What does it have to do with you?” Holts asked angrily. “Here I am, nice enough to stop by and play a game with some old guy, and all I get from you is some sort of interrogation. What’s it to you? It’s my art, my life, my agent, my fiancé. At least I don’t spend all day playing chess in the park.”
Black Bishop to C5.
Anderson’s evergreen eyes gazed over his clasped and wrinkled hands at Holts’ lined, frowning face for several minutes. “You didn’t come here to play a game with me. I came here to play a game with you.” He said quietly.
White Knight to D5.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Black Queen Captures B2.
Reaching over to their discarded pieces Andy picked them up. His old hands fumbled with them for a minute, the two black pawns, two white pawns and a white bishop. He grasped the group with his left hand and picked out a white pawn with the other, holding it aloft between them. “Jesse,” He began. “It’s painfully obvious you don’t really know what you’re doing.”
He threw the pawn over his shoulder and picked out a black pawn.
“Your relationship with Amanda, your agent, is so mixed between intimacy and business that you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. For that matter, you don’t know what those words even mean anymore.”
He threw the black piece over his shoulder and held up the bishop.
“Because she guides you in business, you let her make all the decisions for you, in all aspects of your life. You waited years before she finally said yes to your proposal, and you even gave up your real artistic vision to her ambitions.”
He tossed the bishop aside, proffering a black pawn.
“To follow her lead, you let her shut you down. You distanced yourself from everything, even as you distance yourself from your art.” Anderson gestured at the board, “You lost your center, your passion, your dreams, early on. Now you wander aimlessly, shooting off aggressively in all directions while ignoring your core issues. Amanda hasn’t had a real conversation with you in over a year, muchless any discussions or arguments.”
He threw the pawn aside and grabbed the last white pawn.
“Let me explain something to you,” Anderson said, as he lazily eyed the piece in his hand. “Just like physical objects and matter can be designed in such a way as to channel energy, so can decisions channel lives. In physical matter, these connections run through all things. The larger, more obvious connections are sometimes called ley lines,” He dragged his index finger through the air in a series of geometric shapes, “mountains, coasts, rivers and other geological formations create complex connections all over the globe, but people misinterpret their purpose.
“In lives, it could be called guided fate. It sounds like a paradox, but it only means that the choices we make have inevitable consequences. The Japanese call it ‘Hitsuzen.’ All physical matter directs all energy, inevitably into one point, the center. All lives and decisions have to revolve around a center, and all of these purposes connect to one another, inevitably leading to the center. Where all purposes and all energy meet, the Nexus is formed. You could say it is the heart, or perhaps the crossroads, of all creation.
“You have positioned yourself poorly, Jesse. You’re walking into a self-made trap, and you’ve left behind everything that makes you yourself. Lives that lose their center either self destruct, or they drift to the center of everything:the Nexus.
“Consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t take the cab to the studio. Because you took a walk in the park, because you came here, you did not die when the cab was demolished in a car wreck. Instead, you came to the Nexus.” Anderson swept his hand over the board. “Look at your life. Every choice you’ve made has led to this.”
White Bishop to D6.
Andy smiled. “It’s your move.”
Holts stared at the weathered old man in stunned silence. Slowly, his mouth dry and cracking, he said, “I don’t know how you know all that, and I don’t care. I don’t know how I got caught up playing this stupid game when I should obviously be somewhere else.” Holts stood up, grabbing his bishop. “You’re crazy. You’re crazy, and I don’t have to listen to this. I’m going. But you know what? I’m going to make one last move before I leave. Do you know why?” He pointed at Andy’s rook. “Because you left yourself wide open, and I just can’t help but take advantage of such a lousy move.” Slapping the rook off the board he firmly put his bishop down it its place. He looked thingyily at Andy. “And you said I positioned myself poorly.” He turned to pick up his art and walk away.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Anderson said warmly, “You did align the Nexus perfectly.”
Black Bishop captures G1.
“What do you mean I aligned…” Jesse stopped in his tracks. Wide-eyed he dropped the tubes from his hands and turned around. Everything looked the same, Andy, the chess board; but… it was different. It was completely different. The board filled his vision.
It wasn’t so much a chess board as it was a picture; a framed portrait.
He tried to turn around; to run away.
It wasn’t so much a picture as it was a window frame.
Invisible ropes were strung from every bone in his body, pulling him toward the chess set.
It wasn’t so much a window as it was a door.
It opened. He fell through.
The people around the park walked, talked and played games. The birds sang, and the trees swayed in the breeze, making the mottled shadows that fell over the old chess player dance. The chess set once more sat undisturbed, both sides set except for one lone black pawn.
The gatekeeper’s smile faded. He always wondered where they went when they went through. Reaching his wrinkled old hand across the pieces he knocked the black king over with a grin. “Checkmate.”