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SHORT STORY
Checkmate
Jayaruwan GUNATHILAKE
The soldiers stood in line. Trained, yelled at, suppressed. Yet
something strange dominated every single soul. No one dared to make even
a petite hum. The soft breeze was carrying the essence of dreadfulness.
The encouraging speeches they heeded, the strategies they learned,
seemed utterly useless. Yet they stood in their line. They stood their
ground for they were the only souls standing between the king and the
enemy. They were ready to defend the king with their lives. The flags
appeared to be weeping. Time itself had stopped to witness the scene.
 The enemy was advancing. The soldiers took defensive positions. As
the enemy got closer, both sides knew they were the same. They felt the
same. Both were evenly matched. None outnumbered the other. The battle
depended on strategy and skill alone. It lasted several hours without a
single loss. They grew tired. Knights joined the battle. The soldiers
gazed upon the sky with a glimpse of hope. Arrows started raining the
battle field from the distant castle. They sang a siren's song. They
knew neither friend nor foe. One by one, the soldiers, the enemies, fell
on the ground. The dead were smiling, as if they were pleased to leave
this wretched world.
Every inch of the ground was covered in blood. The wounded remained
motionless. The leaders were desperate. Each called their last resorts.
A wounded knight returned to the king bearing horrible news. An
assassin was spotted making his way towards the inner city. The king was
neither surprised nor feared. He knew this would happen. He ordered his
soldiers to defend themselves. He got ready to make his final stand. He
looked back at his proud castle; a magnificent piece of work. It was
there since his first battle.
The echo of the swords ruled the entire field. The ocean was ready to
devour the last rays of the sun. The king gripped his trusted sword with
both hands. The assassin was surprised.
The king was expecting him. The quicker he dies the more lives he
could save; he thought. He gave up. The assassin seized the chance and
delivered the killing blow. It was merely a battle. The king fell on the
ground motionless, still gripping his sword tight. He was betrayed, not
by the ones he call friends nor by his enemies, but by his own
ignorance. The battle has stopped. For some, it was just another day.
"Checkmate." My opponent screamed. His voice pulled me back to the
real world from my own thoughts. "Better luck next time." I whispered;
still gazing at the chess board, shaking his hand. I do not know to whom
I said it; to my friends, my opponent or to myself.
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