Flash Fiction: Grandmaster

She’s a marvel.

Ladies and gentlemen, do you see her skill? She’s beaten the Grandmaster himself, at his own game, at the tender age of fourteen. She was taken from the dark streets, where no one cared about her. We discovered her, and trained her. This is the potential of The Academy. Now, ladies and gentlemen of the board, I know that you find her most interesting. She is indeed our prized pupil. However, you do know that running this institute is by no means an inexpensive affair. I request a generous boost in our funding. It is not everyday that you see a kid beat a grandmaster cleanly at chess.

Moving the pieces entirely with her mind, no less…


#MenageMonday! Week 2 x 23

Flash Fiction: My Game

You were never a player. The game was always mine.

I chose my pieces and my moves as I saw fit. Every piece was placed only to dance to my tunes. Whether one found glory, or one found death, was all up to me. And in the very end, none of your moves made any difference. You made those moves because I allowed you to. Your will, your dreams, your aspirations, none of those ever mattered.

You were always a pawn.

It was always my game…

Word Count: 86


Friday Fictioneers 2nd Nov, 2018