I’ve challenged myself to free-write a new story each day for one week. You can read about my thoughts behind the challenge, as well as the day one’s story, Help Me Mister, here. You can also read day two’s story, “The Dead Man,” right here.
As before, the challenge is to start and complete a new story each day for a week. The story can be any length, must be free-written, and can not be edited afterwards. Please excuse the resulting spell, grammar, and other literary idiocy.
Day 3: Chess Story
There were two old men and they played chess in the park. Who they are isn’t important to the story; that isn’t something you need to know. They are just two old men who played chess in the park.
They played chess every Thursday, except the Thursdays they didn’t. On those weeks they played on Tuesday, or sometimes Wednesday. Once they played on a Sunday, but that was a one time thing that only happened four or five times. They played chess on days that they could.
They fought in the war, but not the same war. They never talked about it because it wasn’t something that needed to be talked about. They played chess and didn’t talk about the war.
They talked about their kids while they played. They had kids, and grand-kids. Except that only one had grand-kids; the other old man only had one son who died of leukemia when he was forty, the old man, not the son. The son was younger than that when he died, but that isn’t important to the story. The other old man talked on the phone to his grand-kids sometimes. They wanted him to move out and join the family out west. He said he would but never did. They said they would come visit but never did. He told them he was happy, not lonely, and that he played chess in the park.
The other old man, the first one with the son who died when the old man was forty, didn’t talk as much. His stories were old and had gone stale. He talked about the weather. The weather was interesting to him ever since he was a kid and his dad took him hiking and he saw the clouds move. He would have been a scientist if he hadn’t fought in the war, which hadn’t been the same war as the other old man’s. Instead, he fought in the war and played chess in the park and talked about the weather.
The other old man, the second one with the grand-kids who called and never came to visit, didn’t care about the weather. He had fought in the war and went on to make a family and money. The money didn’t matter to him, it let him make the family. When they left he no longer needed to make money, so he put that aside. He never talked about money when he played chess.
One day, it was a Thursday, the chess table the old men played on was gone. They suspected it was stolen, or torn down, or lost. The both agreed that it was a silly thing to lose an entire chess table. They didn’t play that Thursday. The next week they brought their own board and played chess on a picnic table in the park.
One day, it wasn’t a Thursday, the first old man didn’t come to the park. It doesn’t matter which old man, that’s not important to the story. The next week, nobody played chess in the park.
One day, it doesn’t matter which day, the other old man didn’t come to the park. The picnic tables were used for picnics that week, and the next week.
Eventually, the picnic tables were removed; families didn’t go there anymore. The park became home to transients and drunks. The grass grew long and then dug up and then replaced by a small parking lot with a chain link fence and a frowning grey attendant, but that’s not important to the story; that isn’t something you need to know. What you need to know is this:
There were two old men and they played chess in the park.
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That’s day three, almost halfway through the week. Have you tried anything like this or have your own writing challenge to share? Drop a comment below.
Weasel Tea 