A yawning chasm encompassed life. The hole could never be a threat, as one would just fall to its entrance. Ambition was too mundane, as the circle was it. It would deprave one, setting them into the brink of insanity as a second stretched into an hour. Hours and hours and hours and hours.
Pawn to e4.
That was how it began every time. The meticulous task to start the day, unaltered by the weather or time. The same spot, the same bar, the same drink. What came before was not a question; the past was the present, and so was the future. Death, the ultimate ending, was forgotten, and replaced with an appreciation for normality. Knowledge was something to gain, but it was just that. Winning was the only pleasure.
Checkmate came later. It always came, and that was due to knowledge. If that failed, there were weapons and fists. Losing was the precursor to success, and that was how life worked in the slums of a democratic nation. A nation ran by the people who have forgotten you. Infinite propulsion to the inevitable end, where one only remembers the self.
I shouldn’t try to overthink a hole. I’ll drink to myself later.
In case you are wondering what this is, just look up the word ‘sample’ on Google/Bing(lol)/Yahoo(huh).