Facing dark clouds of despair
With a brain blankly confused
Closing my eyes from surroundings
Avoiding a gashing knife wound
If only, pain would leave the body.
If only, darkness scatters light.
Memories of lies and temptations
Planted in the mind
A pool of quicksand hindering a bleeding heart
Drowning in a sea of forgetfulness.
If only, a game exists where I hit the restart.
Swirling into a black hole,
Throwing my hands up
I cry in disgust
Desperately escaping the serpent’s grip.
Grasping for one final breath
Place the drumbeat back in my heart.
I stray away at a late hour
Strolling the quiet streets
Hearing the crunch of the leaves,
The whisper of the breeze,
Smelling the raccoon’s rotting bones
Scared and alone,
I scribble in a journal,
“I can’t do this on my own!”
Satan stole the air I breathe
Like a poisonous gas crowding my lungs
Causing me to suffocate more
Weakening me like a madman
As if a tsunami crashes into shore.
Inserting anxious hands in my pockets
Dropping angrily to the pavement
I don’t know where to go
Until I gaze upon a small, white book,
A book watching,
Waiting for me
On the edge of a dusty road.
Beginning to explore this book
I feel a renewal of the Spirit
Like drinking from a lively stream
I pant for more like a deer in the woods,
Praying this moment wouldn’t be over.
With the dark clouds removing themselves
The sun overpowers.
I carry myself back home.
Bandage my wounds.
Throw away the past.
Heading back to bed
With this book,
I feel God's mighty touch.
I once felt lost but no longer alone.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Prince on a Throne
Walking to the end of a deserted road
Out of reach of city lights
Coming across an intersecting street
At the corner
Stands a hidden, injured oak tree
Firmly planted all alone
Completely out of sight.
Just me and my dog
Trekking through untouched ground
Leaving behind murky tracks
With no clear trail to head on back
I dare not turn around.
Admiring this solitary, frozen oak tree
Enveloped by a five foot wall
Entangled by suffocating weeds
If it could talk,
Why not set it free from its disease?
Waging his tail in delight
Standing tall like royal Kings and Queens
He begins to lead the way
Smelling wildflowers in the garden
Sweet honey of a beehive
A skunk’s poisonous spray,
I quickly follow
Watching daisies bloom
Squirrels playing tag
Noticing the dark clouds,
It begins to rain but,
Something seems wrong
Desperately panting for breath
His wag comes to a hault
He slowly begins to lag.
Fighting this disease
Struggling to make it home
His legs begin to limp
Eyes start to weaken
His body fading like an infested tree.
Carefully calculating the number of breaths
Not knowing his very end
Just like the oak tree on the corner
Loyal, Courageous, and Strong
Continuing to wither away.
I carry him in my arms
To lay beside the motionless oak tree
Gently placing him on a pile of crisp leaves
To softly cushion his fragile body
Like a Prince
Seated high on a throne
Prestigious and Mighty
I would never leave a best friend.
Sitting.
Alone.
Out of reach of city lights
Coming across an intersecting street
At the corner
Stands a hidden, injured oak tree
Firmly planted all alone
Completely out of sight.
Just me and my dog
Trekking through untouched ground
Leaving behind murky tracks
With no clear trail to head on back
I dare not turn around.
Admiring this solitary, frozen oak tree
Enveloped by a five foot wall
Entangled by suffocating weeds
If it could talk,
Why not set it free from its disease?
Waging his tail in delight
Standing tall like royal Kings and Queens
He begins to lead the way
Smelling wildflowers in the garden
Sweet honey of a beehive
A skunk’s poisonous spray,
I quickly follow
Watching daisies bloom
Squirrels playing tag
Noticing the dark clouds,
It begins to rain but,
Something seems wrong
Desperately panting for breath
His wag comes to a hault
He slowly begins to lag.
Fighting this disease
Struggling to make it home
His legs begin to limp
Eyes start to weaken
His body fading like an infested tree.
Carefully calculating the number of breaths
Not knowing his very end
Just like the oak tree on the corner
Loyal, Courageous, and Strong
Continuing to wither away.
I carry him in my arms
To lay beside the motionless oak tree
Gently placing him on a pile of crisp leaves
To softly cushion his fragile body
Like a Prince
Seated high on a throne
Prestigious and Mighty
I would never leave a best friend.
Sitting.
Alone.
Checkmate
A Fictitious story I wrote. I hope you enjoy reading it!!
Flynn, a pale, scrawny boy from the suburbs, strides off the bus on the corner of 13th street where he catches up with his best friend, Connor. Noticing the first snowflakes since March, Flynn immediately puts on his green Celtic sweatshirt as he steps into the crowded polluted streets of downtown Chicago. All Flynn could notice were the leaves changing color, kids heading back to school for the first time since June, and the heavy winds brushing up against his clothes. Located only two blocks from Grandpa Ross’s house, Flynn stands on the chaotic street corner tightly holding his navy blue Yankee ball cap so it would not blow away. At that moment, Flynn remembers his dad pointing out the night before, “Don’t forget to go to grandpas after school.”
Meanwhile, Connor asks Flynn if he wants to go see the new movie that just came out last night. The theater is just one block away from where Flynn stands in the slimy, dark alleyway as he takes one final puff from his cigarette, and then, follows Connor into the theater.
After the movie, Flynn and Connor take the city bus across town to their favorite pizza shop, Antonio’s. Flynn stops by here every other week because Connor’s uncle Antonio owns the business. Flynn smells the freshly baked dough of the Chicago-style pizza as soon as he steps off the bus. Flynn and Connor are the last ones to leave the shop tonight. Flynn glances at the dim glow of his watch band, and he surprisingly notices the gold watch reads 11:00 p.m. He sprints to the bus stop five miles from the pizza shop as the driver barely notices Flynn through the rear view mirror running from behind. He makes it to his house out of breath at 12:15 a.m., and he slowly creeps up his long, narrow driveway, rummaging through the crunchy leaves in his backyard, and quietly sneaks into his room like a snake trying not to wake his dad. Flynn successfully arrives at his unlocked bedroom window, but Prince, Flynn’s clumsy, noisy dog, hears footsteps. Logan, Flynn’s younger brother, and his father, Luke, startled by the noise, crawl out of bed. Just as Flynn edges and struggles through the window, he encounters the dark, forbidden stare of his father. Without a single word, Flynn’s father remains composed, but inwardly, he displays rage. Flynn recognizes the unforgettable stare by his father. It is 12: 30 a.m. The light of his bedroom flickers on, and his father’s voice was all too familiar.
Dad says, “How is your night going so far? You missed curfew, again.”
Flynn replies, “I went to grandpa’s house like you told me. I lost track of time while Grandpa was showing me some old photographs.”
Dad says, “Oh really, is that so? I called grandpa’s house a couple hours ago to check up on you, and Aunt Jessie says you never showed up to give grandpa his medication. You are lucky my sister came up from Florida and is taking care of him right now. So, where did you go?”
Flynn adds, “It is none of your business. Just let me live my life. I need my space right now. So, back off!”
Dad says, “You are my son. You are my business. Tell me where you went.”
Flynn says, “I went to see a movie. That’s it. It is no big deal. Ever since mom died, you do not let me have any fun.”
Dad says, “You know grandpa’s life is different now. You need to be there for him.”
Flynn says, “What does it matter? He does not even know who I am anymore. I bet he does not even remember my name.”
Dad replies, “You’re still his grandson. I told you to do something, and you didn’t do it.”
Flynn begins to walk away towards the kitchen trying to ignore what just happened. Gradually walking up the steep, squeaky stairs toward the cold, long hallway, his dad firmly grabs at Flynn’s shoulder, twists him around, and physically thrusts at Flynn across the face giving him a ferocious black eye the size of a blueberry pancake. Flynn retaliates with a quick jab right in the gut. The physical aggression between the two turns into a heated argument, again.
Dad says, “Learn your place. You are to respect me. No phone, no television, and no friends for two months.”
Flynn says, “Are you serious? This is ridiculous!”
Dad responds, “Excuse me, and watch your attitude. Do you want to make it three months?”
Flynn slowly backs off from the argument, rolls his eyes, and starts to walk away again acting like nothing just happened, which is pretty usual around his house. Searching through the freezer for a hot pocket, Flynn places it in the microwave. Silence with a hint of anger fills the home. If either Flynn or Luke says one more word, it will be the Twins collapsing all over again.
Dad says, “For the next two months, I expect you to go to school and visit Grandpa every day. Do you understand me?”
There is hesitation by Flynn, but in the end, he thinks it is best to just keep quiet this time. Anticipating a response, Luke takes Flynn’s rebellious silence as an understanding. Flynn heads straight to bed. Meanwhile, his dad softly turns on the television to watch the evening news looking back at the moment life really changed for him and his son. Luke finally walks into the bedroom, locks the door, painfully closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, forgetting all that just took place, and begins to pray for his son. This is the first time Luke prays since his wife passed away five years ago. In the end, Luke thinks this prayer thing will eventually help.
The next day at school, Flynn catches up with his friend, Connor. Before Flynn explains himself, Connor asks him, “How come you did not text me back last night?”
Flynn replies, “My dad grounded me for missing curfew.”
Connor says, “That sucks. No, parents suck.”
Flynn says, “Agreed.”
Anxiously counting down the time until 2:30 p.m., Flynn can’t wait to leave the one place that robs him of his freedom. Flynn walks across the car-infested streets right outside the school. Flynn and Connor split as they walk in opposite directions. Flynn catches the city bus to downtown Chicago to see his grandpa. Connor looks back and wonders if Flynn will make it out alive.
Flynn pulls up to 1313 Waverly Road, a white one-story building surrounded by a beautiful design of tulips and daisies that Aunt Jessie planted right before grandma died. Flynn knocks at the door. Impatiently waiting for a response, the door finally begins to open. Flynn catches a glimpse of gramps tensely sitting motionless in a wheel chair with his eyes wide open, hands folded neatly, and the unsettling raise of his eyebrows. Flynn notices a very familiar, uncomforting stare from his grandpa. Grandpa takes a breath and asks, “Who are you?”
Flynn responds, “Flynn. Flynn. I am your grandson. Do you not remember me?”
Grandpa replies, “I recognize you, but I’m not quite sure. Please, come on in though.” After hearing these words, Flynn sinks into the dangerous quick sands of despair and depression. Flynn stares back at the same grandfather who teaches him how to tie his shoes when he was six and picked him off the bloody pavement to help him ride a bike at Webster Park at age eight.
Flynn firmly relaxes down in the brown, leather chair across from gramps. As if the clock races backwards, Flynn just wants to head home. Meanwhile, Grandpa just sits there in his reclining chair drowning in a sea of forgetfulness with the only sound coming from his cat in the other room. Grandpa continues to repeat the same questions, “How is school going? What’s your name?” After fifteen years, Flynn becomes used to these questions. After eating cream of wheat for dinner and sitting in front of the television, Flynn drags himself back home to his father around 9:00 p.m. exhausted and asks his dad, “What was grandpa like when you were a kid?”
His dad answers, “Things were not the same. You used to love sleeping at his house overnight. I remember you would always help grandpa rake the leaves in his yard or mow his freshly cut grass. Before bed, he read a section of the Bible to you every time you slept over.”
Flynn replies, “Yea, I wish I could go back to the days when grandpa would remember my name. How about as a kid, did grandpa, you know, have problems?”
Flynn awkwardly lies down on the couch in front of the television to catch the highlights on Sportscenter, and instead of ignoring what his Dad says, Flynn actually sits down and listens. Growing up, Flynn showed no respect towards his dad. Flynn did not find a common bond or connection between them. No connection between them really exists.
Dad answers Flynn’s previous question, “I always remembered he loved to play chess. This was his favorite game. He was so excited when you were born because he couldn’t wait to teach you.”
Flynn nods, “Interesting. He enjoys chess? I didn’t know that. I finally found something we have in common.”
Dad responds, “You should ask him to play some time, but if you are lucky to even finish a game, you probably will not win. Your Grandpa is the King.”
Flynn silently walks away unable to finish his remaining thought. Flynn quickly falls asleep. All he could think about was the talk he just had with his dad. For the first time since his mom died, he feels a connection between him and his father. A connection so dim but still visible.
The very next day, Luke decides to allow Flynn to sleep in on this cold, dreary Saturday. Seeing the sun rise as it beams through the thick glass of the bedroom window, Luke wakes up fresh and excited to see his boys. He decides to make Flynn and Logan breakfast before Flynn heads over to grandpa’s again. Smelling the crisp, applewood bacon like his mom used to cook, Flynn wakes up at the surprise of his dad in the kitchen. Flynn quickly bundles up, grabs his breakfast, and heads out the door. Luke smiles and feels a tear drop out of the corner of his eye.
Meanwhile, Flynn arrives at Grandpas. With the door closed like usual, Flynn avoids knocking and walks right in. “Hello, Is anyone home?” he says.
Grandpa turns around, “Why hello there. How is my favorite grandson doing? Come. Sit down. I want to show you something.”
Flynn answers, “I am all right. What’s going on here?”
Flynn cannot believe his eyes or his ears. Grandpa calls Flynn his favorite grandson. Flynn takes a moment to think to himself. Grandpa still does not recognize his name, but Grandpa at least knows Flynn is his grandson. A grin creeps up on Flynn’s face as Grandpa smiles back. Flynn spots the chess board and pieces ready for a game to be played almost anticipating Grandpa’s next question.
Grandpa asks, “Do you know how to play chess? Well, of course you do. You are my grandson. Come over here and play me.”
Flynn responds, Okay? Sure, why not?”
Flynn remembers his dad saying the night before how Grandpa Ross’s favorite game is chess, but Flynn does not think Grandpa remembers how to play. It has been so long since Gramps has actually played anybody. Flynn moves his white pawn first. After that, the game unravels itself. The intensity builds with each move, but for the first time since grandma passed away, Flynn finds something in common with Grandpa.
After studying the board for two hours, Flynn finally speaks up, “It is getting pretty late. I better head home now, so my father does not ground me again. We can finish the game tomorrow.”
Grandpa smiles, “I will be waiting for you. Hurry back. I will tell Jessie not to move any pieces. Goodbye, Flynn. Wait. I just want to tell you that I love you.”
So shocked by these final words, Flynn chokes and says, “Goodbye, gramps. I love you too. See you tomorrow.”
On the way home, Flynn floods his face with tears of happiness. Flynn does not remember the last time Grandpa says Flynn’s name out loud. Flynn never hears or sees grandpa give affection to anybody. Arriving back home, Flynn lies on his bed, slowly closing his eyes, and glancing up at the clock as time slowly begins to runs out.
Excited to visit grandpa on a beautiful Sunday morning, Flynn hugs his dad as he slowly hurries out the door. He takes the usual twenty minute bus ride to the white, simple building he is all too familiar with by now. Flynn sidesteps off the bus, and he slowly turns toward 1313 Waverly Road. Looking straight ahead, he notices a police car and an ambulance in front of the house just pulling away. Observing that the door is left wide open, Flynn walks inside, and he sees the single, empty wheelchair in front of the table where he and grandpa played chess. As the wheel chair gently stares at him, Flynn watches the chess clock, gazes down at the pieces, and notices time runs out, again. Without even finishing the game, Flynn grabs the tip of the king, and he knocks it on its side in surrender to Alzheimer’s. Flynn quietly whispers to the silent, vacant chair, “Checkmate, game over.”
Flynn, a pale, scrawny boy from the suburbs, strides off the bus on the corner of 13th street where he catches up with his best friend, Connor. Noticing the first snowflakes since March, Flynn immediately puts on his green Celtic sweatshirt as he steps into the crowded polluted streets of downtown Chicago. All Flynn could notice were the leaves changing color, kids heading back to school for the first time since June, and the heavy winds brushing up against his clothes. Located only two blocks from Grandpa Ross’s house, Flynn stands on the chaotic street corner tightly holding his navy blue Yankee ball cap so it would not blow away. At that moment, Flynn remembers his dad pointing out the night before, “Don’t forget to go to grandpas after school.”
Meanwhile, Connor asks Flynn if he wants to go see the new movie that just came out last night. The theater is just one block away from where Flynn stands in the slimy, dark alleyway as he takes one final puff from his cigarette, and then, follows Connor into the theater.
After the movie, Flynn and Connor take the city bus across town to their favorite pizza shop, Antonio’s. Flynn stops by here every other week because Connor’s uncle Antonio owns the business. Flynn smells the freshly baked dough of the Chicago-style pizza as soon as he steps off the bus. Flynn and Connor are the last ones to leave the shop tonight. Flynn glances at the dim glow of his watch band, and he surprisingly notices the gold watch reads 11:00 p.m. He sprints to the bus stop five miles from the pizza shop as the driver barely notices Flynn through the rear view mirror running from behind. He makes it to his house out of breath at 12:15 a.m., and he slowly creeps up his long, narrow driveway, rummaging through the crunchy leaves in his backyard, and quietly sneaks into his room like a snake trying not to wake his dad. Flynn successfully arrives at his unlocked bedroom window, but Prince, Flynn’s clumsy, noisy dog, hears footsteps. Logan, Flynn’s younger brother, and his father, Luke, startled by the noise, crawl out of bed. Just as Flynn edges and struggles through the window, he encounters the dark, forbidden stare of his father. Without a single word, Flynn’s father remains composed, but inwardly, he displays rage. Flynn recognizes the unforgettable stare by his father. It is 12: 30 a.m. The light of his bedroom flickers on, and his father’s voice was all too familiar.
Dad says, “How is your night going so far? You missed curfew, again.”
Flynn replies, “I went to grandpa’s house like you told me. I lost track of time while Grandpa was showing me some old photographs.”
Dad says, “Oh really, is that so? I called grandpa’s house a couple hours ago to check up on you, and Aunt Jessie says you never showed up to give grandpa his medication. You are lucky my sister came up from Florida and is taking care of him right now. So, where did you go?”
Flynn adds, “It is none of your business. Just let me live my life. I need my space right now. So, back off!”
Dad says, “You are my son. You are my business. Tell me where you went.”
Flynn says, “I went to see a movie. That’s it. It is no big deal. Ever since mom died, you do not let me have any fun.”
Dad says, “You know grandpa’s life is different now. You need to be there for him.”
Flynn says, “What does it matter? He does not even know who I am anymore. I bet he does not even remember my name.”
Dad replies, “You’re still his grandson. I told you to do something, and you didn’t do it.”
Flynn begins to walk away towards the kitchen trying to ignore what just happened. Gradually walking up the steep, squeaky stairs toward the cold, long hallway, his dad firmly grabs at Flynn’s shoulder, twists him around, and physically thrusts at Flynn across the face giving him a ferocious black eye the size of a blueberry pancake. Flynn retaliates with a quick jab right in the gut. The physical aggression between the two turns into a heated argument, again.
Dad says, “Learn your place. You are to respect me. No phone, no television, and no friends for two months.”
Flynn says, “Are you serious? This is ridiculous!”
Dad responds, “Excuse me, and watch your attitude. Do you want to make it three months?”
Flynn slowly backs off from the argument, rolls his eyes, and starts to walk away again acting like nothing just happened, which is pretty usual around his house. Searching through the freezer for a hot pocket, Flynn places it in the microwave. Silence with a hint of anger fills the home. If either Flynn or Luke says one more word, it will be the Twins collapsing all over again.
Dad says, “For the next two months, I expect you to go to school and visit Grandpa every day. Do you understand me?”
There is hesitation by Flynn, but in the end, he thinks it is best to just keep quiet this time. Anticipating a response, Luke takes Flynn’s rebellious silence as an understanding. Flynn heads straight to bed. Meanwhile, his dad softly turns on the television to watch the evening news looking back at the moment life really changed for him and his son. Luke finally walks into the bedroom, locks the door, painfully closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, forgetting all that just took place, and begins to pray for his son. This is the first time Luke prays since his wife passed away five years ago. In the end, Luke thinks this prayer thing will eventually help.
The next day at school, Flynn catches up with his friend, Connor. Before Flynn explains himself, Connor asks him, “How come you did not text me back last night?”
Flynn replies, “My dad grounded me for missing curfew.”
Connor says, “That sucks. No, parents suck.”
Flynn says, “Agreed.”
Anxiously counting down the time until 2:30 p.m., Flynn can’t wait to leave the one place that robs him of his freedom. Flynn walks across the car-infested streets right outside the school. Flynn and Connor split as they walk in opposite directions. Flynn catches the city bus to downtown Chicago to see his grandpa. Connor looks back and wonders if Flynn will make it out alive.
Flynn pulls up to 1313 Waverly Road, a white one-story building surrounded by a beautiful design of tulips and daisies that Aunt Jessie planted right before grandma died. Flynn knocks at the door. Impatiently waiting for a response, the door finally begins to open. Flynn catches a glimpse of gramps tensely sitting motionless in a wheel chair with his eyes wide open, hands folded neatly, and the unsettling raise of his eyebrows. Flynn notices a very familiar, uncomforting stare from his grandpa. Grandpa takes a breath and asks, “Who are you?”
Flynn responds, “Flynn. Flynn. I am your grandson. Do you not remember me?”
Grandpa replies, “I recognize you, but I’m not quite sure. Please, come on in though.” After hearing these words, Flynn sinks into the dangerous quick sands of despair and depression. Flynn stares back at the same grandfather who teaches him how to tie his shoes when he was six and picked him off the bloody pavement to help him ride a bike at Webster Park at age eight.
Flynn firmly relaxes down in the brown, leather chair across from gramps. As if the clock races backwards, Flynn just wants to head home. Meanwhile, Grandpa just sits there in his reclining chair drowning in a sea of forgetfulness with the only sound coming from his cat in the other room. Grandpa continues to repeat the same questions, “How is school going? What’s your name?” After fifteen years, Flynn becomes used to these questions. After eating cream of wheat for dinner and sitting in front of the television, Flynn drags himself back home to his father around 9:00 p.m. exhausted and asks his dad, “What was grandpa like when you were a kid?”
His dad answers, “Things were not the same. You used to love sleeping at his house overnight. I remember you would always help grandpa rake the leaves in his yard or mow his freshly cut grass. Before bed, he read a section of the Bible to you every time you slept over.”
Flynn replies, “Yea, I wish I could go back to the days when grandpa would remember my name. How about as a kid, did grandpa, you know, have problems?”
Flynn awkwardly lies down on the couch in front of the television to catch the highlights on Sportscenter, and instead of ignoring what his Dad says, Flynn actually sits down and listens. Growing up, Flynn showed no respect towards his dad. Flynn did not find a common bond or connection between them. No connection between them really exists.
Dad answers Flynn’s previous question, “I always remembered he loved to play chess. This was his favorite game. He was so excited when you were born because he couldn’t wait to teach you.”
Flynn nods, “Interesting. He enjoys chess? I didn’t know that. I finally found something we have in common.”
Dad responds, “You should ask him to play some time, but if you are lucky to even finish a game, you probably will not win. Your Grandpa is the King.”
Flynn silently walks away unable to finish his remaining thought. Flynn quickly falls asleep. All he could think about was the talk he just had with his dad. For the first time since his mom died, he feels a connection between him and his father. A connection so dim but still visible.
The very next day, Luke decides to allow Flynn to sleep in on this cold, dreary Saturday. Seeing the sun rise as it beams through the thick glass of the bedroom window, Luke wakes up fresh and excited to see his boys. He decides to make Flynn and Logan breakfast before Flynn heads over to grandpa’s again. Smelling the crisp, applewood bacon like his mom used to cook, Flynn wakes up at the surprise of his dad in the kitchen. Flynn quickly bundles up, grabs his breakfast, and heads out the door. Luke smiles and feels a tear drop out of the corner of his eye.
Meanwhile, Flynn arrives at Grandpas. With the door closed like usual, Flynn avoids knocking and walks right in. “Hello, Is anyone home?” he says.
Grandpa turns around, “Why hello there. How is my favorite grandson doing? Come. Sit down. I want to show you something.”
Flynn answers, “I am all right. What’s going on here?”
Flynn cannot believe his eyes or his ears. Grandpa calls Flynn his favorite grandson. Flynn takes a moment to think to himself. Grandpa still does not recognize his name, but Grandpa at least knows Flynn is his grandson. A grin creeps up on Flynn’s face as Grandpa smiles back. Flynn spots the chess board and pieces ready for a game to be played almost anticipating Grandpa’s next question.
Grandpa asks, “Do you know how to play chess? Well, of course you do. You are my grandson. Come over here and play me.”
Flynn responds, Okay? Sure, why not?”
Flynn remembers his dad saying the night before how Grandpa Ross’s favorite game is chess, but Flynn does not think Grandpa remembers how to play. It has been so long since Gramps has actually played anybody. Flynn moves his white pawn first. After that, the game unravels itself. The intensity builds with each move, but for the first time since grandma passed away, Flynn finds something in common with Grandpa.
After studying the board for two hours, Flynn finally speaks up, “It is getting pretty late. I better head home now, so my father does not ground me again. We can finish the game tomorrow.”
Grandpa smiles, “I will be waiting for you. Hurry back. I will tell Jessie not to move any pieces. Goodbye, Flynn. Wait. I just want to tell you that I love you.”
So shocked by these final words, Flynn chokes and says, “Goodbye, gramps. I love you too. See you tomorrow.”
On the way home, Flynn floods his face with tears of happiness. Flynn does not remember the last time Grandpa says Flynn’s name out loud. Flynn never hears or sees grandpa give affection to anybody. Arriving back home, Flynn lies on his bed, slowly closing his eyes, and glancing up at the clock as time slowly begins to runs out.
Excited to visit grandpa on a beautiful Sunday morning, Flynn hugs his dad as he slowly hurries out the door. He takes the usual twenty minute bus ride to the white, simple building he is all too familiar with by now. Flynn sidesteps off the bus, and he slowly turns toward 1313 Waverly Road. Looking straight ahead, he notices a police car and an ambulance in front of the house just pulling away. Observing that the door is left wide open, Flynn walks inside, and he sees the single, empty wheelchair in front of the table where he and grandpa played chess. As the wheel chair gently stares at him, Flynn watches the chess clock, gazes down at the pieces, and notices time runs out, again. Without even finishing the game, Flynn grabs the tip of the king, and he knocks it on its side in surrender to Alzheimer’s. Flynn quietly whispers to the silent, vacant chair, “Checkmate, game over.”
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