My dad had a weird love for chess. As soon as I had turned three, he began to grill me into the game. Almost instantly, the knight became my favourite chess piece. It was so unpredictable, capturing the opponent’s pieces when it was least expected.
“I want you to be a world-class chess player, Nairobi,” Father would say after every game, all of which I lost.
I mindlessly gazed at the raindrops race down my bedroom windowpane. My birthday was in two days. I wondered who celebrated their 21st birthday indoors. Thanks, rain. Mum had gone out for some groceries with Milly, my younger sister. I turned to grab a drink from the kitchen just in time for a black hood to cover my head and get kidnapped.
The small Volkswagen beetle (I figured so because it sounded like dad’s) made a stop and a man gently led my hood-covered head up some stairs into what I suspected was a living room. The fresh varnish on the wooding was strong. The hood was lifted and the man in the balaclava made a hand gesture that I take a seat. The brown floral sofa was soft on my scared, tense bottom.
The rain halted into a young shower outside as the disguised man came with a fresh Greek salad – my favourite – and a chessboard.
“We’re going to play a game. Whoever wins gets to eat the salad, and the loser will, well, watch –” he paused and pulled out a Glock, “ – and eventually die.”
I pushed my white pawn, then bishops, then knights. Queen went flying.
‘Checkmate.’ I said, not believing I survived death.
The man pulled off his balaclava, “For the first time, huh?”
That was the first time I won a game against my dad.
Click to Read – The Monster – A Flash Fiction by Ogechukwu Peace Egwuatu, Nigeria
