Hosstory - A Pain in the Chess Hosstory - A Pain in the Chess
Filey. A chess club. What the place always wanted? Maybe not. There are those who prey on the weaknesses of others. Those who. Well, you’ll see…
Chapter 1
The evening was warm and the air was still as from the sea the stench of raw sewage wafted its way through the streets of Filey giving the place a ‘well lived in’ sort of mood, the sort of mood that someone indeed lived there. The night before it had rained, and had it rained. It had been one of those sorts of rain that occurred maybe only once in the year, maybe twice if it was an exceptionally good year; but it was one of those rains that once started, had the greatest of trouble in being able to stop.
Down a deserted and lonely street walked a deserted and even lonelier person, and under his coat he carried something that was even lonelier and more dejected than the two of them.
Even though as forlorn as he was, he had at this moment in time a determination, and there amongst this determination was a certain but small amount of enthusiasm. The only thing he knew he needed to do now was to get them both home, as quickly and as safely as possible and once there all would be alright.
Chapter 2
There finally he reached the door of his single basement flat. Ben Gunn removed the parcel from beneath his coat and checking that no one was about, placed it carefully against the doorframe.
Fumbling nervously with his keys he noticed a cat sniffing inquisitively at the package. This he did not need. Nothing had, must, upset him or what was within the brown paper, at least, not before what was about to happen. With one swift kick he sent the animal hissing and squealing into the air and away.
Carefully he examined the paper wrapping for any signs of damage, hoping, no praying inwardly that none would be done. To his total relief there was not even a scratch.
Quickly he entered the house and slammed the door behind him tight shut. There he stood for some time his back against the door as if expecting someone to try and break in after him. There he held the parcel firmly but within his view in front of him. His mind was racing, he knew now that they were home and for sure totally alone together. Minutes, maybe seconds that seemed like minutes passed and finally he settled down, and composing himself, he removed his coat and carried the parcel now even more carefully into a room just off the main hallway.
This was a very special room to him, for on switching on the light it revealed a strange and macabre scenario. There sat a table sided oppositely by two chairs. On the table sat a fully pieced chessboard, set up with the most exquisitely carved ivory pieces ready to play a new game.
The most strange and at first inexplicable thing about the room though was a pile of rotting body parts stacked untidily in one corner. Most were in the advanced stages of decomposition, which indicated that at least a few had been there for some time; these in their age of decay were also beginning to give the whole place the most awful smell.
Ben was now beginning to sweat. His whole body was beginning to tremble in a way that only certain people knew, and grabbing the package he tore at its wrapping.
There, its wrapping now removed, he looked at what lay revealed before him. His hands trembling he took the packages contents and leaning carefully over the table, placed it opposite him. Slowly he sat down and for several minutes he looked at what lay there opposite him. Saying nothing, but breathing slowly and heavily he admired what was there, knowing exactly what it was and what was about to happen.
What Ben needed now was a game of chess, and he was sure that his new opponent needed the same.
There before him sat the table adorned with the set up game. Beyond the board, an arm. A human arm. Removed from its body at the shoulder joint and there now with a new body and about to play chess.
Ben reached out and took one of the pawns in his hand. Behind his back he swapped the piece back and forth between his left and right hands there finally with clenched fists, he showed both hands to the arm.
As always, Ben gave his new opponent the choice of the chance of first move. “Left or right?” he asked.
“Left.” He replied, keeping his lips as still as he could.
Ben knew by the feel of his left hand that his opponent had chosen correctly and with some spite Ben opened his left hand revealing the piece. Glairing at the arm he replaced the pawn back in its place on the board.
As far as he could remember all his opponents had managed to choose correctly as to which hand the piece had been in. They’d always managed to get it right.
“Black or white?” he asked.
“Glack.” He replied, again keeping his lips still.
Ben turned the board so that the black pieces were towards the arm, the choices now out of the way, he was beginning to tremble, for what he needed now was his fix of chess.
Slowly he reached across the table, and there holding the arms hand, he clasped a pawn and moved it two spaces forward.
Placing the arm back on the table he sat and looked and thought. After several minutes of thinking he moved his piece.
The arm did the same.
“Hmmm.” Ben thought. “Playing a shrewd game.” It looked as though his opponent was on the same skill level as him.
And this is how the game went on. Piece for piece. Move for move. It was as if his opponent knew every move he was going to make before he made it, and visa versa.
The game finally ended as always, a stalemate. Rather disappointing really. Neither he nor his opponent being able to move.
Not all games he had played against his opponents had ended in this way, no. The pile of body parts across the room bore witness to his past challengers. A foot, a liver, a finger, and a testicle were amongst many that lay there. The odd one out of these being the testicle. The game with it had ended in an all out row after it had accused him of cheating. Ben refusing to admit to such a degrading accusation, and being slightly drunk at the time, had thrown his opponent with all the force he could muster against the wall and had taken the huff for two whole weeks, not speaking or even looking at anyone in the whole of Filey.
Chapter 3
This whole strange scenario had come about in a purely accidental and in fact unusual way. Ben liked chess. He’d always liked chess. He never used to be exactly fanatical toward the game, but ever since he was at school he’d found it fascinating, interesting, challenging. The way the pieces moved and how every game he played was different. The strategy of the whole game, the attack, the defence, the sacrifice of ones own players to win. These all made up the game and the game itself leading to only one final winner, and that winner he made sure was him. There were no prisoners in the game of chess.
Chess for him became a way of relaxing, a way of proving how mentally superior he was to those who dare challenge him. After dealing mercilessly with the ones at school there was the Youth Association. There he could play chess and there were always those willing or fool enough to take him on.
Word soon got round though and there became fewer and fewer of those challengers hardy enough, or even fool enough to take him on. Everyone he managed to play he regarded for his recreation and enjoyment, a thing they didn’t seem to like. He didn’t seem to care about this one bit, regarding them as just fodder for his amusement.
Fewer and fewer were willing to play and Ben found himself more and more having to entice them with offers of sweets or cigarettes or alcohol, things he was eventually kicked out of the Youth Association for.
For his sixteenth birthday Ben was bought a brand new shiny hand carved ivory chess set and board, which he took to carrying with him always in case he came across the chance for a game of chess.
These chances were now few and far between as he got to be well known throughout the community of Filey as a bloody pest.
People he found began to avoid him, they’d cross the street when they saw him approach, or jump out in front of fast moving cars to get themselves knocked down and taken to hospital. Anything than have to play chess.
Signs began to appear in both Glen and Crescent gardens banning all board games, a thing that caused constant controversy between the council and the local archery club, but the law was the law and that’s how it stood.
As luck would have it though and quite by chance totally in Ben’s favour, Janice at the Buccaneer had decided to open a chess club. It wasn’t originally her idea. It wasn’t even that she was at all interested in the game of chess, or indeed knew how to play. It had been one of Billy Savage’s golden crackers. He’d said that it would drum up business for the bar throughout the winter months and that people would flock from the other pubs in Filey and even the other towns and villages to either play or watch. Of course, Billy had not put his idea forward freely. Not at all. He’d also suggested that for every game played he’d be granted a free drink, thinking along the lines of around at least twelve pints a night.
To Ben though, who knew nothing of Billy’s dealings with Janice, it had been a Godsend. In his hour of need this miracle had come about and had given him a new lease of life in his time of misery. He’d decided that he would be the clubs founder member, looking upon it as a source of new life for him and his hold on what was left of his sanity. All he could think of now was chess and nothing but chess. Game upon game upon game for him to play and win. It would for him, be shear bliss.
The date for the official opening of the club was announced and posters were tied, nailed, and stuck anywhere and everywhere that they could be. Adverts were placed in all the local papers, at some expense to Janice her leaving it all to Billy to take care of. She’d been constantly and totally assured by him that the profits made would far outweigh the initial cost of all the initial expenditure in advertising.
Chapter 4
Finally that day came and all and everyone were there. The bar floor was laid out with ten small tables, each set out with a board and a full set of pieces. The bar itself was packed with folk. There were drinkers who frequented the bar on a regular basis. There were drinkers who’d just come along to watch the games and to have a drink. There were drinkers who’d just come along to drink but not to watch or get involved in chess in any way. And then there were the players, who were far outnumbered by the drinkers, which initially was fine by Janice and of course Billy.
Amongst the players there stood Ben. There he’d brought along his own lucky chess set and board and had sat down at the last and only remaining unoccupied table and there was now ready to play.
An old man sat down opposite him and placed a half full glass on the table. Looking Ben from side to side he spoke.
“Drinker or player?” he asked.
“Player.” Ben replied as he pointed to the set up pieces before them.
“Bollocks.” The old man said as he stood up and left the table.
Ben thought this quite rude, but put it down to the old man been drunk. Soon after, another man sat down with him and asked the same question. Ben gave the same answer and was immediately left.
This is how the evening went on. Men, and women visiting table after table in turn, and soon after, leaving, some it seemed in not to good a mood. From what was happening it seemed the each and every of the ten tables had someone sat at it wanting to play chess, and not one of the tables having a player and an opponent.
Ben was getting a bit fidgety and he was beginning to tremble seeing the pieces before him and not yet been able to play.
Suddenly from across the other side of the room loud and violent sounding shouting erupted. Obscene and violet shouts spread rapidly through the crowd and within seconds a fight had spread throughout the bar.
The nets and anything that could be used as a weapon were torn from the walls and ceiling and hurled across the room. Janice cried and tried to calm things as Billy shiftily skulked behind the bar and poured himself a large drink. A dried starfish whizzed through the air and caught Janice square on the forehead causing blood to pour down her face. She looked through the blood that dripped in front of her eyes and what she saw was pure anger. What she wanted now was Billy. This was all his idea and it was his fault that had happened. She looked around and there was one thing still left on the wall before her. With and empty bottle she smashed the glass of the cabinet and grabbed the noose. Now she went on a purposeful rampage, a hunt for the blood of for Billy Savage and quickly she found him. There crouched behind the bar he was well into his third bottle of vodka.
“Wanna drink luv?” he slurred as he held the bottle in Janice’s direction.
Billy would have ended up in a worse condition that he did, namely dead, had it not been for the fact that Janice could not get the noose over his nose to place round his neck. She had finally given up and instead had resorted to gnawing repeatedly at his face until being dragged off screaming and eventually calmed down with several large gins.
Billy was escorted from the building and later had told everyone that he’d been involved in a fight with some hard case that owed him money.
Ben was utterly disappointment and despaired and in his distress had left as soon as the trouble had started quickly packing away and taking his board and all its pieces with him. There, running as fast as he could he’d put as much distance between him and the Buccaneer as his fitness had allowed. Finally stopping, breathless and shattered, his sides aching in a painful stitch.
Now for some strange and overwhelming reason he was in need of the thing he knew would make things alright for him. Now he knew what he needed and he must have to calm him down was a game of chess.
Chapter 5
That evening as Kevin Lane walked home from a night of pool and drink, and more drink down at the Foords hotel, he found that he needed desperately to pee. Queen Street was well lit and it being early evening in mid summer, there were still a few people around who might, if he tried, see him and laugh.
The path at the top of Church ravine he thought would be a safe place. Quiet, dark, and out of the way. No one, he thought, would be there to disturb him or make jest at he anatomy.
There he finally stood. Facing and watering the surface of one of the old walls that was between him and the rear of the Queen Street houses. As he pee’d, his mind began to wander. Just across that dark ravine was the churchyard. There could be ghosts there. Ghosts that could be out and about now because it was getting dark, and here he was, all alone with a very sensitive part of his anatomy on show and vulnerable. He was afraid. He was very very afraid.
He tried to pee faster.
‘Psssst. Wanna game of chess?’ came a low rasping voice from behind him.
Kevin near jumped out of his skin as he suddenly turned to see Ben crouched there smiling up at him holding out a fully pieced chess board. Without thinking, and in total reflex and fear Kevin kicked out sending the pieces scattering in all directions from the board. He turned quickly and began to run, as he did he pulled his fly tight shut. Too quickly he pulled as the zips teeth closed up tight onto the skin of his manhood. The scream echoed up Church Ravine and far beyond. Some thought it was one of the lost souls of Filey screaming for forgiveness for their many sins. More than not, others hearing the howling, couldn’t care less.
Ben staggered to his feet. In the dim light he began to gather the chess pieces from where they lay and place them carefully one by one into their individual places in their box. A growing pain throbbed in his head and blood dripped endlessly from his nose. For more than an hour he crawled on his hands and knees looking. Thirty-one pieces he managed to find. Only thirty-one. There was one missing. One black pawn which he seemed to be able to find not a sign of.
It was now very dark and very late and the pain in his head was getting steadily worse. He stopped and tried to logically assess the situation. There was not much chance of finding a black chess piece, one of the smallest pieces on the board, especially in the dark, therefore he’d stopped looking. Everything began to waver, everything began to wobble before his eyes and Ben not thinking any more about anything, logical or otherwise, keeled over and passed out where he fell.
Some hours later he awoke. He was not on the path at the top of the ravine where he’d been when he’d passed out. It was not even dark. Ben was now in Scarborough Hospital, in a hospital bed, and someone was shining a very bright light in his eyes.
“Where. What?” he murmured. “Where am I?”
“You’re in Hospital.” A young doctor replied after replacing the very bright torch he was using to dazzle Ben in his pocket.
“Hospital?”
“Yes sir. What’s your name?”
“Name? My name. It’s Ben. Ben Gunn.”
“And do you know what day and time it is?” the doctor came back.
“N..No.” Ben replied again groggily.
“Pity.” said the doctor “I changed the battery in my watch just a few minutes ago and it reverted to the first of January 2000 at 12am. Never mind.”
The doctor left leaving Ben dazed and totally confused.
It was then that he noticed he had bandages and dressings around his nose. What had happened? Why was he here in hospital?
“Nurse.” He called. “Nurse!”
A nurse was soon at his bedside accompanied by an older looking doctor. The nurse spoke to him while the doctor looked at the notes at the end of his bed.
“Mr Gunn.” The doctor said looking over the rims of his half spectacles. “It seems like you’ve had an accident.”
“Accident!” Ben replied alarmedly. “What sort of accident?”
“Well. You were found wandering the streets of Filey in the early hours of this morning repeatedly saying something about some piece of your chest being missing, or maybe a pain in your chest.” The doctor explained. “On examination your heart was found to be alright, and x-rays showed your chest to have no abnormalities, but there was something lodged up your nose. Quite far up your nose in fact. X-rays showed it to be a chess piece. What looked like a pawn.”
On hearing the word ‘chess’ Ben began to tremble and sweat. His body began to go into a series of hot and cold flushes and his throat became dry. He went dizzy and his vision became blurred and finally again in a series of shaking convulsions, he passed out.
What the doctors had indeed found on there examination was the missing chess piece. It was lodged in the front lobe of Ben’s brain, but they were immediately hit with a very serious ethical dilemma.
Due to their oaths and the very strict code of ethics in the medical profession, to remove the piece would have been an illegal move, which none of them were prepared to make. They had decided therefore to leave it there, it not seeming to affect Ben in any way, apart from reducing his sense of smell, which they were sure that he’d get over or wouldn’t need anyway.
How very wrong they were. What grave a mistake they had made. How terrible an error they had done. For now unknown to them and to anyone else, Ben had an unquenchable thirst, a voracious craving. The only thing that Ben needed to survive now was a daily fix of chess. No matter who or even what from, or from where he got it, he didn’t care nor did it matter. He just needed it to survive, and he would go to any lengths or pay any amount to get it. Anyone, alive or dead, or any human body part was seen by him as a worthy opponent who would play a game against him without complaint, no matter what. He now lived for chess, and chess for him was life. He was addicted.