The Knight

    It was a cold, dreary morning in December, and the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon of rooftops in the town. There was half an inch of snow on the ground and it was like a white sheet over the road, covering the trash and filth that hid underneath. Soon there would be people waking up and heading to their workplaces, destroying the pristine scene with their footsteps and slovenly wanderings. But the sun, who peeked over the rooftops watching, would see the town, and the road, and the young boy who sat shivering on the roof gazing upon the scene. And the sun would wonder, wonder at the young child with no home, no family, and wonder how humanity could destroy such beautiful things.
     Daytime came; people rushed out of their houses to get to work, their cold breath clouding the air. Newspaper vendors shouted the latest tidbits of news, and added to the clamor of shouts and screeches that filled the air. The boy on the roof had long since vacated his spot as he had a job to do. The boy crisscrossed the crowd, dodging groups of factory workers that walked with a hunched, defeated shamble. He passed by the wagons of chauffeurs taking people to work and other places in the large town. He passed back alleys filled with trash and the bright, evil eyes of thieves and rats. The boy noticed all these things, but still ran towards the post office.
The post office was a short, gray building that was in the north part of town, surrounded on both sides by three-story apartment buildings like a small child by its parents. The boy rushed through the large open doors and walked into the interior of the office. Grey walls covered with lockers of metal mail box slots ran along the left side of the room, while the right was the shipping desk. The boy walked up to the thin man behind the desk and waited. The man looked up from his work and stared down his nose at the young boy. He spoke. "You're here to deliver mail?" The boy nodded. The man stepped away from the desk, walked through a door behind it, and came back a few minutes later carrying a faded red jacket and a large messenger bag. He said "There are 30 letters and a list inside of who to deliver them to." He paused, "You do know how to read, correct?" The boy nodded again and donned the jacket and bag. The man barked, "Well, don't wait around, GO!" The boy ran out the door and took off to the nearest recipient of the letters.
The sights and smell of the town rushed by in a blur as the boy raced to the west side of town, toward a large array of dingy gray housing complexes. He walked up to the house labeled 1278 9th street. He knocked on the door and upon receiving no answer, pushed the mail through the slot and went towards the next house. This was repeated until he reached the last house, all the way at the south end of town. He walked up to a bright blue house that clashed horribly with the gray houses on either side of it. The boy walked up and knocked on the door. A old and wizened voice echoed from inside the house, "Just one minute!" Two minutes later the door opened and a hunched, wrinkled old man looked from the other side of the doorway. "What do you want?" the man grumbled. The boy handed him a letter embossed with large, imposing print. The man looked at the paper and his face scrunched into an expression of rage. "I will not sell this home!" he shouted. He ripped the paper and threw it into the street. The man stood there for a moment breathing heavily and then he turned to the boy. He stared at the young boy who was very thin and hungry looking, but carried in his eyes the look of a person who had wisdom beyond his years.
The man noticed these things and decided something. He looked at the boy and his face softened. "Boy, do you know how to play chess?" The boy looked at the man in confusion and shook his head no. The man said, "Well then come inside. I need another person to play." The boy was ushered into the house and he looked around in wonder. The house was a small home, but the crackle and sizzle of the fire place in the main room filled the hallway before it with dancing shadows that entranced the boy. The old man walked toward the right corner of the room and opened the closet that was there. He pulled out a chess set and a box of pieces. He pulled up two chairs and a battered table and placed the chess set upon it. The chess set was a thing of beauty. The pieces were made of white marble and black jet polished to a beautiful shine. The board was of interlocking pieces of walnut and mahogany and was covered in a gossamer sheen of varnish with no rough edges or uneven areas. The boy stared at the chess set and knew it had to be very expensive, and wondered how the man had gotten it. The man noticed this and said, "I used to have a wife who loved chess and played me almost daily." The man looked away and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. "She died 3 years ago, but a few days before she died I took her to a store and bought her this chess set with money set aside for a trip to New York we had been planning." The man smiled at the memory. "She loved the chess set and played a game with me on the day she died." His expression changed and he had a sad faraway look in his eyes. "We never finished that game. She stood very still for a moment, and she looked at me and said 'Checkmate' and she passed on. I have yet to understand her meaning." The mans eyes were very bright and he was shaking slightly. With a slight catch in his voice he looked back at the boy and said "Well that's enough about me. I said I would teach you chess."
The man showed him various pieces and the different ways they could move. "This is the bishop. It can move diagonally in any direction." He picked up another piece. "This is the king. He is the most important piece in the game. You try to get him to a point where you can take him in chess." The boy was listening intently to the man. The man picked up one last piece and turned it over in his hand. That piece was shaped like the head of a horse and the marble showed every detail, down to the nostrils on the muzzle. "This is a knight." He paused. "The knight can move in the oddest way of any piece, yet it opens the most possibility." He smiled and said, "This was my wife's favorite piece. She said the knight embodied the wisdom of knowing that the best way to move is not always the most straightforward." He showed how the piece moved in a L shape in all 4 directions. The man set up the board with the black pieces on one side, and white on the other. He spoke in a stronger voice than he had before and said "Chess! The game of kings! The essence of war, and the beauty of it as well." And the man began to play the boy.
The game went on for a while, and the man was surprised the boy managed to hold off his attacks. He wondered at the fact that even though the boy had never played before, he played like a pro. The child made a seemingly foolish move, putting his queen in range of his bishop. The man had only ever seen one person do this before, and suddenly realized that the board was arranged in the same way the last game with his wife had gone those three years ago. He thought for a moment, then took the boys queen. The boy then moved his knight in front of the bishop and spoke a single word. "Checkmate"
The old man stared at the board with an unintelligible look on his face. He stared in wonder at the board, taking in the scene that reminded him so much of that horrible day three years ago, but it didn't make him sad. He felt the release as the realization that his wife had known she would win with that powerful move using her favorite piece, the knight. The man's face changed to a smile of joy as tears and sobs wracked the man's body. The boy was worried for a moment, then saw the smile on the man's face and let him cry. After a while, the man stopped sobbing and looked at the boy. "Boy, I do not believe words can express the effect this game has had on me." The man looked at the knight on the board, and decided. He picked up the piece and held it out to the child on the other side of the table. "You deserve this piece." The boy took the piece and turned it in his hand, memorizing the feel of the only gift he had ever been given. The man said "Now, I have some work to do. I'm going to accept that letter to sell this house, and I'm going to take a trip to New York the way me and Samantha had always planned." The boy stood up and made to leave, but the man pulled him into a hug first then let him go.
The boy walked out of the home of the old man and walked back to the post office. The sun watched the boy and saw the new item that gleamed in his hands. The sun saw the tiny knight in the boys hands and watched as the boy crisscrossed the streets back on his way to the post office. The sun did not hear or see the boy get yelled at by the postmaster for being late, but it did see the old man leave his house with a single bag in his possession and a smile on his tired face. The sun watched as the boy went to stay for the night on the same roof. As the sun finally set on a cold, dreary day in December, the sun saw both the boy and the old man, and wondered how humanity had such beauty in it.