The True Story

A simple black and white chess board carved from marble, sat on the only piece of furniture in the dark room, a simple wooden table. There were no chairs to accompany it, only this simple table. There was a boy standing on one side of the board staring down at the white pieces that lay before him set up in their proper place glittering in the dim light being produced from a small window that seemed to look out into nothingness.  He looked across the board to the black pieces their crudely carved faces and pieces seeming almost menacing in the gloom. The boy appeared to stand alone in this room silent and patient. He then reached out his hand grabbed a small pawn and moved it forward, the sound of the piece being placed, and a gentle chink, echoed throughout the silent room for several long seconds. The boy walked to the corner of the room and sat down in the corner, watching the board, waiting for a move, and hoping for freedom.

The room was bright, its white plaster walls reflecting the light that was coming from the lamp beside the bed. The room was bare except for several machines with glittering lights, and a hospital bed with neat stark white sheets interrupted only for the small bulge of boy asleep, he lay under several blankets and the only skin exposed was his face which was pale. His breathing was soft but ragged, as if he had recently been crying. His soft light brown hair was plastered to his forehead in sweat that lingered on his skin in small droplets. As he lay there voices could be heard outside. They were muffled through the door and they sounded sad and frantic.

"You said it was isolated!" this was a males voice deep and sorrowful, edged with pain and fury, "you said there wouldn't be any more problems!"

"I apologize sir this was unforeseen," this time it was female voice, it sounded sad but professional as if it had spoken these words before, "we had no idea it was going to spread at this rate."

The conversation dropped, as if a heavy blanket had been laid over the area smothering it with a silence no one dared to break. No one spoke and the only sound was that of the occasional beep of the machines within the room. After several minutes of silence a sigh echoed from outside.

"So what do we do now?" it was the deeper male voice again, it sounded worried, "is there even anything we can do?"

There was a pause before the second voice responded, "I hope you are a religious man, because at this point we are doing everything we can but prayer, we will continue treatment but he will have to remain here." There was a long pause and murmured whispers with the first voice and a new one, a third that sounded female as well.

"All right," a woman's voice murmured, he voice tinged with sorrowful acceptance "He will stay here." The woman sounded chocked and seemed that it was struggling to get those words out. Moments later there was a noise of a door being opened quietly, and a man and woman walked in next to the bed. The man was tall and sturdily built and had the same hair as the boy lying in bed. The woman was fair and beautiful, she had black hair tied up in a sloppy ponytail and here complexion matched the boys. Both had tears in their eyes and appeared exhausted. They held hands tightly the knuckles turning white with the sheer force of the simple gesture, and leaned down to kiss the boy on the forehead, the woman whispered something to the boy held his hand for a moment before departing with the man tears lingering in their eyes, leaving the boy to rest in the room.

The boy looked up suddenly to the sound of a piece being moved across the board, the sound breaking from his fragile sleep. The boy rose slowly, walked over to the table and looked down at the marble board to see that a single black piece had moved, a pawn and it was now directly across from the one he had moved before. Although the crudely shaped black piece seemed larger than the smooth white one.  The room was still empty save the boy and the board but the place across from him appeared darker than before, as if a black fog had suddenly rose up and settled opposite him. The boy raised his hand cautiously reaching for a random piece, his small mind struggling to understand, but something stopped him, a whispered voice and a brush of a hand on his, guiding it to a certain piece on bored and he moved it where the gentle voice directed. The boy liked this voice, it was familiar, and he didn't want it to go, he placed the piece and again the chink echoed throughout the room with the sound of finality. The voice faded and the touch vanished. The boy cried out, wanting the gentle voice to return, to comfort him, and to direct his moves. The voice did not comply and the boy did not hear a response except his own echoes returning to him. He returned to his corner and sat down, waiting, and hoping.