Hello. I submit to this board a narrative essay I have been working on over the last hour. I do so because I am in desperate need of mature feedback. I feel my essay has taken a mechanical turn for the worst and lacks any emotional value. Please read this short essay about an experience I had two days ago. Analyze, criticize, re-write. Reply to this in whatever manner you feel is nessecary to help me improve the value of this essay.
To my right stood the love of my life. To my left: a towering black bishop.
This was to be an easily won battle, I thought. My young opponent may have had more experience on this particular theater of war, but I was sure my developed ability to reason and strategize would give me the edge I needed.
The fight began slowly, as was to be expected. She commanded a small wave of pawns to be sent down the center of the battlefield, protecting her soldiers with two white knights to their rear. I quickly realized she was doing one of two things: attempting to control the front lines, or arrange her men in a pretty little ‘star’ pattern. With her being only twelve years of age, I assumed the latter.
Deciding to forgo the opportunity of an early attack, I chose to work on releasing my more powerful units. A strategy such as this would surely weaken my defenses, but only momentarily. Once I managed to free the rooks and bishops, my early lack of defense would then be compensated for.
I took turns ordering a few of my pawns into the battlefield in an attempt to open the future lines of attack. My thoughts were that my opponent would be too busy creating visually pleasing arrangements of her men to notice my helpless and unguarded soldiers. So I continued. Once the pawns were in position I called for my most distant rook to flank the left battlefield. I smiled as I felt my plan come together.
Just then, an opposing white knight leapt from its standing position, soared over the heads of two friendly pawns, stopped in mid air, turned hard left, and came crashing down on my noble rook. I watched as the poor soul was flung from the battlefield, over the horizon and out of sight.
After quickly mourning the loss of such a valuable unit, I was forced to reconsider what my opponent’s true motives were regarding the positioning of her men. Maybe creating an aesthetically stunning battlefield wasn’t all she had in mind. Matching her moves with added caution on my part would have been a more appropriate strategy in the beginning, but it was too late for that. My pawns were already scattered recklessly over the combat area, exposing both of my knights, a bishop and my one remaining rook to her, now menacing, forces.
I decided it was time to push the offensive as well. I instructed my nearest bishop to move in on the imposing ivory steed hoping to scare it away. My attempt was thwarted, however, by a swift, diagonal move from one of her men. The impact caused my bishop to topple and role off the edge of the battlefield. There were now two enemy units within my kingdom and the nearest means of offence was nearly three moves away. The pressure was mounting. I called upon any men that thought they had a chance against my opponent. A bishop of mine took it upon himself to attempt to slow the enemy’s advance. But my resistance was quickly put to an end when her knight surprisingly doubled backed and killed the renegade unit. She leapfrogged with her knight killing another soldier. Then another. And a fourth. She seemed to take particular glee in the death of my men, laughing as they were bumped, lifted and flicked onto the carpeted abyss beyond the battlefield. I was not amused.
My remaining units scrambled across the board in a futile attempt to put an end to the madness. But their efforts would only be in vain. My opponent picked off almost every last unit of mine, even those who posed no threat to her like the innocent pawns, immobilized in a standoff between another enemy pawn. Soon, my once glorious army lay shattered with only my beloved wife and I remaining.
It was obvious now as to where my opponent’s attention was focused. Suffering from a gimp leg of sorts, I was only able to take one step at a time, so I decided instead to seek refuge beneath the Queen’s robes. She stood before the advancing chaos, arms drawn back as to shield me from my opponent. She fought valiantly, circling around me move after move. But it was not long after until she too was
slain.
With her death I was left alone, cowering on my knees, looking up towards the towering white army. Realizing that the end was inevitable, I rose to my feet. With one last look at my opponent, I tilted myself to the right and fell stiffly to the ground with a light wooden tap.
“Checkmate!” She giggled. I watched as my opponent began to circle the living room, savoring this well deserved moment, chanting: “I beet Arthur! I beet Arthur!”
My opponent. My mentor. My twelve year old sister. All three united as one, even if only for a moment.
“Na na na boo boo, I beat yoou!” She cried.
Well, maybe more so a teacher than a mentor.