Ivan BereckaProf. Simon RyleCreative Writing WorkshopNovember 4, 2015

Scholar's Mate

It was the strangest sensation. He felt warmth radiating from somewhere behind him, pulsating soothingly and creeping up over his feet, legs, hips, and finally curling up in the small of his back. At the same time, his face and hands were numb with cold, his chest felt oddly constricted and his breath hitched painfully whenever he tried to breathe in. There was an unpleasant taste of copper in his mouth. His head was swimming and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes before the dizziness had subsided, at least a little. But the pain in his chest got worse by the second, and the warmth he had felt coursing through his lower body was rapidly turning into an uncomfortable heat. He heard a bizarre groaning sound a short distance away, a sound like metal twisting and bending. What the hell happened? He had to move.With an excruciating effort he heaved himself up onto his forearms and opened his eyes. Snow. Streaked with blood that could only have been his own, and shimmering orange and gold under the glow of the fire which was now raging behind him. With the sudden realization of what must have happened, he whipped around, sending a violent jolt of pain through his entire body. His eyes widened in panic and awe at the sight of the wreckage: the train carriages were strewn about all over the hillside like the beads of a torn necklace, most of them on fire, some having landed so far off that they looked like little more than embers twinkling in the distance. There were no other survivors in his immediate vicinity. Though he strained to hear for calls of help, all around him there was just the crackling of the fire and the disturbing groans of metal buckling and breaking. He got up on his feet, slowly, carefully maneuvering through the pain, until he was finally upright. ''Hello?!'', he tried calling out, but all that came out was a weak gravelly croak that was so alien it freaked him out more than everything else that was wrong with his body at the moment. He was sure he had broken a couple of ribs, his vision was blurry and his nose was probably broken as well. But he could walk, and he had to look for others.Inundated, that's the word. It's hilarious actually, that even now, after somehow surviving a freaking trainwreck, it took under two minutes for my mind to be inundated by thoughts of you again. I should try writing poetry sometime. It would be embarrassingly pretentious probably, and you would brazenly point that out, and I would agree. But yeah inundated. 1. e4 e5. ***''Yeah yeah, I'm coming, Jesus'', he grunted at his phone as he came rushing out of the hotel bathroom to pick it up on what must have been at least the 15th ring. ''Hello?''''Hey, so I've been reading this book lately, and I can't wrap my head around this Hegel guy no matter how hard I try, can you help me out?''What kind of question was that, and what kind of nutcase starts a conversation like that? The voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place it. It couldn't possibly be one of his students. He wracked his brains for a few seconds as he stood there towel drying his hair, but he couldn't figure it out. Utterly confused, he managed to mutter ''I what do you excuse me?''''Well you're a professor now, aren't you? So I thought who better to ask. It's interesting stuff, but all this metaphysical mumbo jumbo just goes right over my head, you know that. So, what do you say, wanna grab a coffee and act all intellectual like?''And then it hit him with the force of a cargo truck. Stunned, he stood there quietly while his mind squirmed and writhed under the weight of all the memories, raced and sizzled with forgotten emotions that were now lighting up again, one by one, and he felt slightly dizzy because there was so much he wanted to say, to scream even. But what was the point? No good could come of it now. We've been through this Bill, get it together, he steeled himself and tried as best he could to reseal all of those pent up emotions that came rushing back like a stampede of angry demonic rhinos threatening to trample all over his sanity.''Well?'', came the now all too familiar voice from the other end of the line.Oh, right, he was standing there like an idiot, paralyzed for what felt like ages. Clearing his throat a little, he replied ''Yeah sure. You bring the book. I'll I'll bring the chess set. It's been a while since I've played.'' He didn't quite manage to pull off the nonchalance he was going for, but he was nevertheless proud of managing to say anything at all. ''Yeah, that'd be great, I'd love to play. When are you free?''''I'm at this conference right now in Bergen but I'm taking the train back tomorrow night. I'll call you when I get home, yeah?'' That was better, his tone was much more relaxed now.''Okay, looking forward to it. See you soon.'' The line was dead before he managed to say anything back. With no outlet for his feelings, he stood there with the phone in his hand, staring at it for a good couple of minutes before remembering that he needed to get dressed. That had definitely been the most bizarre conversation he had ever had in his life, but somehow by the end of it, it had felt so easy too.It was really her, wasn't it? It was her, after how many years now? Hegel? She wants to talk about Hegel? Nah, that's just something she came up with to have a reason to call. Classic. But why now? You know what, stop it Bill, just go with it. You don't need to understand it, not right now. She's back in Oslo and you're just getting together for a drink, and a bit of chess, like the old days, that's all. That's all.2. Qh5 Nc6.

***He made his way to the nearest carriage that wasn't on fire, dragging his feet through the thick snow, wheezing softly with the strain. It was completely empty. There weren't many passengers on the late night train to Oslo, which was obviously a good thing, he thought to himself as he moved on to continue searching for survivors.Moving through the debris, swerving around the jagged bits of broken windows and pieces of nondescript chunks of wood and metal, he felt increasingly afraid something might explode at any moment. But he was determined to keep searching, there have got to be others, maybe they're trapped somewhere, and maybe they can't call out for help because they're too badly injured. Not that he'd know what to do if he did in fact find someone who had sustained serious injuries. He was looking for survivors, he realized, more because he needed the solace of another's company to get through this disas Shut up Bill, do we need to go into an in-depth psychological analysis of your motives here, just get on with it. It's noble, a noble thing you're doing, just keep looking. But he was getting weaker. He needed to rest, just for a little while. Then he'd keep looking. Or maybe someone would find him in the end, that would be nice, let someone else be noble.3. Bc4 Nf6??***He couldn't wait to get through all the meetings and the lectures the next day. The whole conference was a total drag anyway, he never was really interested in political and social philosophy, he wasn't even sure why he came. He spent the entire day fidgeting in his seat in the enormous lecture hall, checking his watch way too often, and getting up to go have a smoke or get a cup of coffee from the vending machines every chance he got, whenever he felt like he could slip out for a bit without seeming rude.He made it through the dullest lectures by brushing up on Hegelian metaphysics. It definitely wasn't his area of expertise, so he thought he had better reacquaint himself with that most ambitious of German idealists, even though he thoroughly disliked his work. Maybe she really does want to talk about this stuff, I don't know. She always used to do this kind of thing, come up with a weird question out of nowhere, something completely unrelated to anything we'd be talking about. He jerked out of his reminiscence to discover a wide grin had spread across his face, and he quickly reassumed a serious expression before any of his colleagues spotted him.When he finally got out of the lecture hall it was nearing 9pm. The clear Norwegian night sky was marbled here and there with ghostly traces of the northern lights. He spared a moment to admire the view and take it in, before heading off at a brisk pace toward the hotel to pick up his stuff. The train was leaving in two hours, he had more than enough time, but he couldn't stop himself from rushing. The northern lights. I honestly wish that I found them more beautiful than you. Because that would be normal, right? It would be healthier. But they're just not. Wow, that was lame.***He slowly approached a nearby tree, a safe distance away from the burning wreckage, and sat down, leaning against its rough, lumpy trunk. Not minutes ago he had felt relatively fine, if you disregard the chest pain and the broken nose. He was up and moving, at least. But now he was just utterly exhausted. Must be the adrenaline rush wearing off. His head was spinning again and his vision was getting blurry. He closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could on the sound of his own heartbeat. This was something he always used to do when he felt extremely nervous or anxious, or couldn't get to sleep.Do you remember when I told you about that? About how it was my personal kind of meditation? And about how, when you're lying in bed, and you press your ear against the pillow and listen carefully, it starts to sound like you're walking in the snow, taking soft, steady, crunchy footsteps. You liked that, when I told you about it. It must have been one of the first times I stayed over at your place. Back when I was still trying to impress you with sappy stuff like that.He opened his eyes again, and squinted around, trying to catch any signs of movement, anything at all. But there was nothing, and he was so tired now. I heard freezing to death was one of the most comfortable ways to go. That you even feel all cozy and warm towards the end. He was starting to panic. He felt nauseous with fear. Despite the blinding pain in his chest, he managed to let out an inarticulate scream, and that was all he could muster before keeling over face first into the snow. He lay there, scalding tears of dread streaming down his face and into the melting snow. After a while, he felt himself starting to drift off to sleep in spite of himself. He tried hard not to give in, because he knew sleep meant certain death. And as he waged this inner battle to stay awake, he thought he heard footsteps in the snow, approaching from a distance. He listened intently, and he heard them again, so clear and crisp and full of hope.Oh God, thank you thank you thank you, please hurry up, I need to get outta here, I have to see we have to play chess she's she wants to know about Hegel, please please hurry. No wait why why are you slowing down? Why are you slowing down 4. Qxf7#