Short story collection


11. Checkmate

While one of my oldest friends sat in that chair in that concrete room. Staring, wide eyed, down the barrel of my revolver; I was reminded of something from our childhood. Of us playing chess as we always used to. There I sat, across from her, arms folded. Pretending. She smiled at my sulking display & said softly thinking she had me cornered. "Can you guess it?" I scowled wriggling further backwards into my seat. "Guess what?" She giggled & still speaking softly retorted. "How I'm going to beat you?" I knew I had her at that point. "No," I paused for dramatic effect, even then I knew how to play to any audience. "but I do know how I just beat you. Checkmate my friend." As the hammer snapped I leaned over & whispered in her ear "Checkmate my old friend." Funny how this hero, villain business works out. Even back then she never realized she had lost until it was staring her in the face. All of my glorious work will be simplified as "evil" & they will build statues to the person who couldn't even save herself.
Ironic isn't it?
I will be written off in life, & in death she will become legendary. All because of me & my glorious work. 

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