Death of chess - part 3 - Escape

This is the third part of the chess story Death of Chess.

(If you want to read the first part, you can find it here).

I wrote this story as a chess fantasy about a woman whose passion for the game—and the trauma she carries within her—draws her into another world. It is a story full of raw emotions, dark twists, and an unexpected clash between chess and the ancient game of senet. I would love to hear your thoughts.

DEATH OF CHESS - PART 3 - ESCAPE

Carolyne had spent hours locked in that cell, convinced there was no way out.  

But then—someone reached out. Across the corridor, in the cell opposite hers, sat an old man who asked, gently, if she needed help.

Carolyne hesitated. Could she trust him? She weighed the risk. In a place like this, what did she really have to lose?

“Could you help me, please?” she asked. The man blinked, as if waking from a long thought.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll help you—if you truly want to leave this world and find your daughter. While you were unconscious, they took her away to treat her injuries. But let’s talk about how to get out of here. I don’t know much myself, but I do know this: you must never mention chess. Or games like Go. Not here. Not in this world. History made them dangerous.

But there is a place where you can speak freely. Where they’ll answer almost anything.

It’s in a city you’d call Toronto—we call it that too. There’s an information center there. Massive. Inside are people who know nearly everything about this world. They’ve lived through most of it. And time doesn’t flow normally in that place. Even after countless renovations, one magical artifact remains—keeping its staff ageless.

They’ve never hired anyone. Never fired anyone. They spend endless days absorbing knowledge. And when someone arrives, they’ll answer a simple question for hours. That’s the risk—you could spend years there. It won’t affect you, but the world outside will change. Even your own.

I know this because I’m from your world. I couldn’t handle the endless talking. I ran. But the moment I mentioned chess, a man in a passing car shot me in the leg. I couldn’t run anymore. The police came. Locked me up.

But I believe you have more strength than I did. Maybe your world was cruel. Maybe it hurt you. But this one feels worse. And you want your daughter to grow up where she was born. I hope I’m not wrong.”

The man fell silent. And Carolyne knew—he wasn’t wrong.  

But first, she had to get out of the cell.

She thought hard. Then an idea came. She hated it. But she hoped it wouldn’t go too far, and that she’d escape before anything happened.

When a guard passed by, Carolyne called out:

“Hey, officer… you know, I’m not from this world. I miss mine terribly. I remember so much—like my husband. I miss him so much here. Would you remind me of him? I mean, if I’m in another world, it’s not really cheating, right?”

The guard froze. Then walked straight to her. He unlocked the cell.  

Carolyne thought: Men… honestly. What am I supposed to think? They’re just the murkiest puddle in the gender pool.

The guard stepped inside and shut the door behind him.  

Before he could react, Carolyne lunged—kicked him in the groin, then drove her knee into his stomach. He collapsed, groaning. Dropped his keys. She snatched them, unlocked the cell, and locked him inside.

“Oh, and by the way—I don’t have a husband. And the father of my child? Even more of an id—than you. Tough luck.”

The guard writhed in pain. When he finally stood, he rushed to the bars and shook them in fury.

Carolyne ran. Through corridors, past empty cells and some not-so-empty ones.  

A few prisoners clutched chess pieces that crumbled into ash.

Then—she found a window. Small. Green. Frosted. Five meters above her.  

Luckily, a fire escape ladder was nearby. She climbed. Her injured arm throbbed.

At the top, she reached for the window. Her foot slipped. She held on with the other. In her hand was a stone she’d picked up earlier. She swung it with all her strength. The window cracked. Then shattered.

She reached the ledge. Crawled onto it.  

From there, she saw the truth: she was fifty meters above the ground. But the building was so broken, she might be able to climb down.

She squeezed through the window.  

A gust of wind blew shards into her face. One, tiny as a grain of sand, lodged in her eye.  

If you’ve ever had sand in your eye—imagine a shard of glass.

She cried out. A tear mixed with blood ran down her cheek.  

She tried to rub it out—but her finger pressed into the eye instead.  

Luckily, just enough. She pulled the shard free.

Then—someone grabbed her.  

It was the guard. His colleague had freed him. He stood on the fire escape, gripping her ankle.

Carolyne kicked backward. Hit him hard.  

He fell.  

She swung forward—and tumbled out the window.

The fall was short. But it felt endless.  

Birds flew overhead. Planes passed. Crowds walked below.  

A truck rolled by—carrying a trampoline. It stopped at a red light.

Carolyne landed on the trampoline.  

Bounced fifteen meters up—face-first into the wall she’d hoped to climb.  

Scraped herself. Grabbed a ledge.  

Climbed down.  

And finally—she was free.

Carolyne still had to find Carol.  

She guessed her daughter was in a hospital—but had no idea where.  

Then, as she turned a corner, she spotted it: a hill rising above the city, crowned by a massive building. Something flashing sped toward it. That could be it.

She waited at a traffic light for what felt like forever.  

Then she saw a truck loaded with boxes—each one filled with senet boards.  

Painted across the truck was a rainbow-colored track, with senet boards gliding along it. Above it all, a bold slogan:  

“Senet is the greatest game in the world.”

Carolyne rolled her eyes. Clearly, they’ve never heard of chess.  

Before the truck pulled away, she jumped onto the back and hid among the boxes.

The packaging was unbearable.  

Bright colors. Screaming fonts. Exclamation marks everywhere:  

“Senet! Senet! Senet!”  

If chess weren’t banned here, she might’ve let it slide. But this? This was propaganda.

She found a box labeled “Decorate your own senet board!”  

Inside—just one set of paints and brushes.  

She tore it open, grabbed a brush and some color.

On one of the boxes, she crossed out every “Senet” and wrote in bold letters:  

“Chess.”

Wouldn’t surprise me if they burned the whole box for that, she thought.  

Maybe even the rest of the shipment. Maybe the truck too.

When the truck neared the hill, Carolyne jumped off and sprinted upward.  

At the top stood the building she’d seen—massive, flashing lights, sirens blaring.  

A fire station.

Carolyne sighed. Who paints a fire station white?

She dashed back down the hill, weaving through the city.  

A car nearly hit her. The driver screamed at her to get out of the way.  

She didn’t care. She kept running.

And then—by sheer luck—she found the hospital.

Outside, she paused. Looked around.  

Was anyone following her? That guard? Someone else?

She stepped inside.  

At the front desk, a woman asked who she was here for.  

“My daughter,” Carolyne said.  

That was enough. The woman waved her through.

Carolyne bolted up the stairs.  

Four floors.  

She startled doctors, nurses, patients—  

But she found Carol.

Her daughter had a cast on her leg.  

She was learning to walk with crutches.  

And she was doing surprisingly well—especially for someone who’d only recently learned to walk at all.

When Carol saw her, her eyes lit up.  

She cried out:  

“Mom!”  

Tried to run to her—  

And fell.

Carolyne rushed over. Lifted her up.  

Held her close.

Together, they left the hospital.  

Boarded a long-distance bus.  

And began the journey to Toronto.

The road was long.  

But at the end of it—  

A cold, beautiful city.  

And somewhere within it, hidden but vast—  

The infocenter.

Carolyne searched for it.  

And when she found it

—  

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

Continue the story here

© Laura Choanozoa (a pseudonym and the author’s trademark), all rights reserved.

A FEW WORDS FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear reader,

I hope you enjoyed the story. And you’ve probably realized by now—this isn’t the end. Just like the chess tale Instead of Thousand Possibilities, this one has multiple chapters. But as I said, I truly hope you liked it, and I hope you’ll stick around for what comes next.

Either way, I’d be really grateful for your feedback.