The Match

        Just under twenty years ago my life changed forever. Everything of value had been lost to me. My pride, ego, and my should-have-been-girlfriend Isabella. When I close my eyes, I can still see the scene vividly. I can still smell the processed food in the air. November 24th, 2008. The day I lost everything.

        My eyes flicker open, only to find darkness. I am sure this has something to do with the depth of my soul, and the darkness that lingers within it. Gently, I move my hands around, I feel a soft cotton material, and moving my hands up a hard plastic finds its way into my hand. Just like I suspected, I am inside of my childhood closet, the present day location of my time machine.

        A nostalgic sound echoes through the door, as my old shitbox television screams “SUPER MARIO… GALAXYYYYY!” As the sound rapidly decreases, my eyes well with nostalgic tears. Younger me is on just the other side of this door. I can hear his deep breaths, worried that he might get yelled at. Little does he know, more important things are going down in our parents lives, things I only understand now with age.

        A glass breaks, followed by screaming. Ah, the sweet sounds of childhood. The television volume is raised as the younger me tries to drown out the fighting.

        Now, I am faced with a problem. I could step out, and face my younger self, but I know better than that. Having seen more science fiction than the average man, and even being an admin of a very popular and exclusive discord server in the present day, I know the ramifications of such an action are severe. So, I lie in wait. The closet is spacious enough to fit a time machine, so it does fit my body, bulbous as it is. 

        Past me falls asleep just as I feel my back start to cramp. The door is open only a smidge to allow for his loud, nasally snores to get through. I know I shouldn’t, but I look down at my resting body. 

        He looks distressed, and I know the reason. Hell, I’ve lived with that very same distress for almost twenty years now. His pugna usque ad mortem, his fight to the death. He will not die in the literal sense, no. Something much more terrible awaits this poor soul. With grace, I caress his forehead with two outstretched fingers. His brow is wrinkled, and it fails to set him at ease. But what could?

        I leave the door open a crack letting a small amount of light from the hallway spill in. Nobody is out there, though. Downstairs is what I’ll need to worry about. Specifically, the living room at the bottom of the stairs. 

        Descending the stairs, I am light on my feet. In this moment I am nothing more than a ghost of the past, set on his single minded goal of vengeance. Now at the bottom of the stairs, I peek around the corner.

        “AAAAAAGH!”

        I whip back around, taking cover, but I have nothing to worry about. This is election night, I know the cause of that scream. 

        “And with that, one more state for Obama! Looking unstoppable at this point in the race.”

        Not that my dad wasn’t racist, he was, but his screams of agony were primarily caused by the brewing knowledge of what he would lose in the bet.

        With this, my exit route was secure. He might be alerted by my untimely exit, but I knew I could outrun that old man with the bad knees. In my head, a perfect escape route existed. Immediately, I would veer left, take a right, and it would be smooth sailing to the nearby park from there. To me, this is why I was caught stupified by a woman who only existed in my memories, now suddenly tangible before me.

        “M…” I start, before realizing how quickly I could have jeopardized my mission if I had finished that one word. 

        Her eyes were brown. Of course they were. It was like that in all the pictures I had seen, but seeing it in person was different somehow. Even if her brow is wrinkled in anger, or her arms are crossed sternly, it is not enough to take me out of the moment.

        “Are you one of James’ friends?”

        “Oh, I…”

        “God, of course you fucking are. Tell me, how much has he lost so far? How much to you? You know what? Never mind.”

        She storms off without so much as a look back. The moment is over, once again in my mind like all the rest. I could run after her, explain everything. Talk, and have her… God, no. The mission is more important.

        I wake on a park bench. Sleep was bad. I fought a squirrel for this territory. Little time to review my notes, but I’ll make do. For my whole adult life I have been preparing for this moment. The memory is still crystal clear in my mind as if it only happened yesterday. I am unsure how a person could struggle to remember an event as life changing as this.

        It’s a short walk to the school. My knees are shaking, legs trembling the whole way there. I have the weight of my life’s purpose on my shoulders and it is heavier than I could have ever imagined. The gates look just as I remembered. Tall enough to keep out people they don’t want, but not guarded well enough to prevent some sack of shit from walking right in, and so I did just that.

        It was five minutes until lunch, right when the duel was. Walking down the hallway I could feel the tension in the air. Unknown to myself at the time, it had turned into a school wide event. Kids gathered right next to the door, and some would be sprinting to get a front row seat to the battle. 

        One minute until the bell rang. Suddenly, and with little warning this long table would host two contestants, one on either side with dozens of students behind each. One of these contestants would be expected, the other… 

        The calm before the storm invoked the most anxiety. My eyes darted from side to side, and I felt my shoulders shaking. The lunchlady who had told me off as I stole a carton of chocolate milk glared at me as she made a phone call. Near the entrance, though, a figure caught my eyes. Distant, and blinded by the sun I could hardly make out who it was, though I had a guess. As soon as the bell rang, however, he vanished.

        The doors burst open as fuck ass preteens flooded the lunchroom, though none made for the lunch lines. The circle formed as I expected, with myself at the center.

        Minutes passed, and the crowd parted to let a certain figure through, entourage in tow. His arrogance was palpable, just as thick in the air as his axe body spray. My nose shriveled in disgust. He paused in his tracks, taking off his name brand aviators that he wore inside. 

        “Who the hell are you, old man?” The kids laughed as he asked the question they were all surely thinking. 

        I have had years to think about this moment. I knew that he would ask it that way. As he did, he looked back at his douchebag friends with a shit eating grin. I cackled maniacally, giving a show of the darkness that lay dormant deep inside of me, like dogs biting at a cage.

        “I’m your worst nightmare, little boy. You’ll face me instead” Fuck, why did I say little boy? Despite sounding like a pedophile, Damian was undeterred. He took a seat across from me as he laughed in my face. “Whatever you say, man. It’ll be quick either way.”

        Soon, my other self would be showing up. He would be late, called back by a teacher for a “problematic” essay on To Kill a MockingbirdI. I put on a face mask to hide my secret identity. Combined with my fedora and trenchcoat, a perfect disguise. 

        Damian pulled out a checkers board from his bag, and the duel was set to begin.

        “You can go first, old guy. You look like you’ll need the advantage.”

        “It is you who will be needing assistance. You can.”

        “Heh, fine.”

        He made his first move exactly as I remembered. I respond in kind, just as I had twenty years ago. Whispering ensued in the crowd, and my hands began to sweat. 

        “Woah, don’t leave a puddle on the game board man.”

        They laughed at me. Mocked me. They did not know the beast that was about to be unleashed. “Just make your move,” I growled in response. 

        Time passed. I am not sure how much. The game was past the beginning stages now, and all was going according to my plan. In the background, a door creaked. Nobody else seemed to notice as they held their flip phones up to record, but I did. A young boy walked in, pulling down his T-shirt a size too small over his bulging belly that seemed determined to show its ugly head. He furtively glanced around as if he was not supposed to be a focal point of this crowd. He took a deep breath as he walked up to the edge of the crowd. For a moment, he seemed determined to push through. That is, until he saw someone sitting right where he should have been.

        His eyes sank to the floor as he took a step backwards. He gripped his fists before using one of them to wipe his eyes. He tried to make eye contact with me. Braver than I remember being. 

        “It’s for your own good,” I mouthed, but it was too late. Just as fast as he gained that sense of bravery it depleted. He turned around and walked out of the lunch room. 

        A flurry of attacks from Damian left sweat trickling off my droopy brow. With the added experience of my extra years I am unsure if I could beat him. That is, if I did not know every move he would make. Now, I was at the turning point.

        With two of my well oiled fingers I pushed up my glasses. It was my turn. Now, we have reached it. The point I had been working towards my whole life. My Requiem of Change will now begin in full.

        “King me,” I said. It was a move I had not noticed in my pre pubescent state, obvious as it was. Twenty years ago, Damian, with his few wispy hairs above his mouth, laughed at me. Not anymore, I saw. I will not be a laughingstock any longer. 

        From the corner of my eyes, I saw her. Isabella.

        The crowd parted to let her in the circle as she looked down at the board. She pushed her long, black hair out of her eyes as she examined the game. Looking up, she readjusted her glasses in just like how I remembered her doing.

        No, focus. Once I win, the younger me will win a relationship with her, and the dam hiding those memories from me will finally burst open, revealing all. 

        I move the piece that had just been kinged, and it is taken with a deft hand. With unfiltered arrogance, Damian laughs.

        I tremble. No, I can handle this. With no warning, I rise, towering over this miniscule game.

        Collective gasps erupt from the audience. Both Damian and Isabella look up at me with confusion written across their faces. I wipe off my forehead, but my goal has already been accomplished. All I had wished for was a reset, and it has been obtained.

        The table jostles as I sit back down. Damian laughs at me, but like Superman, that bullet bounces right off my chest.

        My singular, off beat move that disrupts the flow of time goes as I expected. Simulation after simulation of Damian’s most likely moves carved my years, and now it is all paying off. He becomes reckless, throwing off his uncaring persona. He always showed a lack of interest or effort in anything, but as time passed I learned that was not the case. In fact, younger me had, in a fit of love, challenged him to the worst possible game possible. That is, for he was the son of the Four Time World Checkers Champion, Joseph Wright.

        Damian Wright had been groomed from a young age to be a prodigy at the game, nay, art. He was the youngest of three boys, and thus his father had two attempts prior to create a player better than him, one to inherit his throne of the checkers world. Dare I say, he succeeded. The only way I could possibly find to beat his son in a game of checkers was to bend time itself, and even then he proved a challenge nigh insurmountable.

        Each move he made pushed me to my limits. By a combination of foresight, planning, and two decades of experience under my belt, I prolonged the game long past the point it should have ended. 

        The dozens of pairs of eyes surrounding us were bewildered, brimming with excitement at the spectacle laid before them. Even then, it felt like it was not enough. Unfolding was the pinnacle so far reached of this amazing game I have learned to love, but I could not lose. 

        I snapped myself out of my weary state, willing myself to focus on what mattered. Changing the world. 

        Damian’s resolve was clear as well. I had thought less of him, but his passion was clear. He would win this, at all costs.

        Each second started to feel an eternity. Damian’s face was now red, beaded with sweat. Isabella was still perched next to his shoulder, absorbed as one could be without playing. The crowd grew restless, and it was clear as day this is not what they expected. A quick dispatching of the weird kid, the loser, and they could resume their usual lunchtime activities.

        That time was nigh approaching. The twilight of the match was now. Looking up, I locked eyes. With one move, his hopes were crushed. I watched as his eyes darted across the board for possible moves to slither out of the situation he found himself in, but there were none. Of course there were none, this was the endgame I had envisioned years ago. 

        Dread set in on the boy, and I allowed myself a single, glorious chuckle, for the game was not yet over. I could still lose, and all of this would be for naught. All of those years…

        No, stop it. Distracting myself is the only way I could lose.

        I lift my eyes as I see Damian rise to his feet. The previous cloud that blinded his vision had been lifted, and he appeared revived. With a deep breath, he looked to his side, where Isabella stood watching.

        “I haven’t lost yet. This is for you.” He told her. 

        The crowd erupted into a roar as he sat back down to make an immediate move. 

        They were cheering for him. Some chanting his name, some screeching incoherent nonsense. But all around me, dozens of middle schoolers roared for my defeat as if they would not be happy with anything else. Fine, I’ll show them.

        I make a move, and only realize my error as Damian smirks. Everything. Everything was coming undone. I felt bile rise up to my throat, only barely succeeding in pushing it back down. In a blitz of moves, I was suddenly down. Two pieces to one, and I was cornered. Haphazard moves, one after another had sealed my fate.

        I looked at the board, and could only make one move still. That move would then put my piece in prime position to be taken just seconds after. Still, I could do nothing else. 

        I do not believe in a god, but I found nobody else left to turn to.

        Damian stood, and guided Isabella to the seat next to him. His hand crossed with hers, he moved the final piece, claiming the game as his. One color remained on the board, and it had been decided. My ears deafened, and the world turned dark around me. How could this have happened? Where did I go wrong? Can I still…

        I stand, and the crowd falls silent. My options are few, but I can still tell them how I feel. Tell them all the darkness that awaits them. They will RUE –

        The circle dissipates as policemen barge in, pressing me against the table. Steel tightens around my hands, and they force me to my feet. I open my mouth to scream but am silenced by duct tape. Their big, meaty hands hold me tight as we leave the school premises. Then, I am faced with a police car. My mistakes have caught up with me. How could I be in this situation?

        “You there! Get out of the way!”

        Why are they yelling at me? The door isn’t even open yet… However, the hands that seemed to have such control over me released, and I looked over to see a familiar figure held at gunpoint.

        With swift moves he knocks the officers unconscious, only the two of us are left standing. “Timothy.” I stumbled out.

        “Took me forever to find you, and when I did, where were you? In a middle school fucking cafeteria. Priorities, man.”

        “Sorry…”

        “Did you at least do what you needed to?”

        It felt like a knife plunged deep into my heart. No, I didn’t. I lost to a middle schooler in checkers, and he will get married to my childhood crush. I might have also messed up the younger me in the head, even. 

        “I’ll take that as a no, then. Let’s go save the world from the lizardmen before they overtake too many key figures. We can get McDonalds on the way, though why you like lizardman food like that is beyond me.”