The Acquaintance
They say I'm crazy. They always say that when the truth doesn't fit into into their little boxes. I'm in this little cell because of that old woman. And because of the rain. The rain that wasn't even there.
It started simple. An insurance scam. My acquaintance- let's call him Rakoto, sounds fancy- was worth a fortune dead. I just needed him gone. Easy money. I arranged a meeting at his farm just outside Bethlehem. The sun was hot, the air thick. But as I drove the sky turned the colour of bruised plums. The air inside my car tasted of ozone though there wasn't a cloud in sight. 1. e4 e5
Rakoto met me at the gate, smiling like an imbicile, like a fool of no description that he was. A sheep ready for the slaughter and the braai in the form of the money to be made. I made small talk, moved us past the door toward the study where I had a little " accident" planned. The atmosphere felt heavy, expectant. The Free State wind suddenly whipped up dust demons outside the windows. 2. Nf3 d5
We argued about something stupid - land rights maybe. He was defensive and stubborn like a man refusing to see the obvious danger in front of him. The dust demons outside seemed to twist into the shapes of angry ancestors. 3. Nxe5 Bd6
He motioned towards the window , pointing at a bird feeder he'd just installed. " Look at the finches," he said. The finches were frantic, crashing into the glass though I saw nothing to scare them. I laughed internally. The man was a paranoid fool, giving me perfect opportunities. I guided the conversation, moving him into the center of the room. 4. d4 Nf6
He settled into his chair , oblivious to his fate. The house felt like it was breathing around us, the wooden floorboards groaning even though we were still. The room was growing darker, though the afternoon was young. 5. exd5 O- O
I went to the sideboard for a drink. I had the poison in my pocket. Rakoto was talking about Granny then. " A brave woman" he'd call her. "She told me to always be aware of the spirits," I scoffed. I planned to sip the mafenetha-rat poison into his mqombothi- African traditional beer. The bottle I searched for was warm to the touch, oddly comforting. 6. Bc4 c6
As I poured he started moving around the room again, nervously checking the curtains, opening and closing the study door. His behaviour made no sense, fragmented. The wind outside started rattling the windows violently. 7. dxc6 Nxc6
He moved to another window, pulling a heavy curtain aside, muttering about the changing light. The house seemed to hate his movement, the air pushing back against him as he shifted location uselessly. The absurd part? The sun outside was shining brightly, but in that room it felt like midnight. 8. Nxc6 bxc6
He turned from the window, his eyes fixed on the heavy antique mirror above the fireplace. " Something's wrong," he whispered. I saw his reflection warp in the glass, a hairline crack appearing across the top corner that wasn't there a moment ago. 9. O-O Bxh2!
Rakoto stumbled backward, clutching his head. He looked terrified. I saw his reflection again in the mirror, his face pale and sweating. He wasn't seeing himself, he was seeing her. Granny. The crack in the mirror seemed to flash with a harsh, cold light. 10. Kxh2 Ng4+
A searing pain, real and physical, erupted in my own chest. My chest, not his! I gasped, doubled over. The air in the room was suddenly thick with a smell of damp earth and crushed rosemary, sharp and suffocating. The entire house seemed to groan in agony, responding to his fear- or maybe mine? The rational world dissolved. 11. Kg3 Qd6+
I looked up at Rakoto. He was calm now, standing by the fireplace, the terror gone from his eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that reminded me of Granny's stare. He wasn't the victim anymore. I was the one trapped. The room felt small, the walls closing in. The wind outside roared, though I could see through the window that the trees were perfectly still. 12. Bf4 Qg6
I tried to run to the door, but the floor felt sticky, heavy. My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't understand what was happening. This was absurd. I was supposed to be in control. I threw my weight against the study door. It felt locked, fused to the frame. I looked at Rakoto, a man I was about to murder, and I suddenly felt immense, paralyzing fear of him. 13. Bd3 f5
I retreated into the corner, trapped by invincible forces and the sheer weight of the house's magic. Rakoto advanced, calm and menacing. The light from the single lamp seemed to focus solely on me, illuminating my terror for the room to consume. 14. Kf3 Re8
He stood maybe two meters from me, and the air around him became a physical force. The walls started to literally fade, replaced by an abstract, stark image of a black and white grid. The furniture rearranged itself into a brutal, geometric trap. I was the White King, utterly alone and exposed. I saw my position- diagrammed in the air. I ducked, a desperate, animal instinct to escape the inevitable. The pain in my chest spiked to an excruciating level as the final pieces snapped into place. 15. Rh1 Nh2+ The silence that followed the psychic blow was absolute.
Rakoto raised his hand, not a physical hand, but a presence that filled the room. The last thread of my sanity snapped as I realized I had not been playing against Rakoto the acquaintance. I was playing against her. 16. Rxh2 Qg4#
I don't know what happened in the study. I blacked out. The police found me outside the house , half- naked, babbling about chess pieces and a mirror and a storm that never happened. Rakoto was fine. They say I just had a psychotic break.
But I know the truth. The house played me, and Granny won the game. That's why I'm here. Checkmated by a ghost in a game I didn't even know I was playing. And that, right there, is the most absurd horror of all.
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