Instead of thousand possibilities - part 6 - A prison on wheels

This is the sixth chapter of the chess story A Place of a Thousand Possibilities. If you haven’t read the first five parts yet, now’s the perfect time to catch up.

I’m not sure if I should spoil what’s coming in this chapter—so I’ll just say this: Ray won’t be the only one in prison.

INSTEAD OF THOUSAND POSSIBILITIES - PART 6 - A PRISON ON WHEELS

Ray was a little banged up from when that chess general piece had hurled him into something that resembled a trailer home. But he shook it off and looked around. What he saw gave him pause—it looked more like a jail cell than anything else.

The inside of the trailer was tiled at the bottom, and in the center stood a set of bars with a door masterfully disguised by its seams and a small lock. Ray quickly realized he was inside a prison on wheels. On one side of the cell, there were no bars—that made sense; it was the door of the trailer itself, the kind that usually leads into the back of a cargo van. It was locked, of course.

There were no lights—except for a single torch-like lamp hanging on the wall. But instead of fire, it had a dim electric bulb that barely lit the space.

There were two cells inside the trailer. A barred wall in the middle separated them. Someone else was in the other one. Ray could only see a shadow—whoever it was was crouched in the far corner where the weak light didn’t reach. The second cell had the same bulb and a barred front (Ray’s had the bars at the back). At the far end of that cell was just a wall.

Ray called out to the figure in the shadows—and to his surprise, it came closer.

It was a living chess piece. A bishop.

Clearly aged and battle-worn. The piece had scars, missing chunks, and parts of its wooden body were starting to rot.

“You’re... human,” the bishop said in a high-pitched, quivering voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one of your kind.”

“If you’re hoping to leave this world,” the bishop continued, “forget it. They’ve caught you. And you know what they do to those who try to escape or resist?”

Ray shook his head. No, he didn’t.

“They kill them. The King of this world doesn’t take well to being questioned. Or mocked. But what he absolutely cannot allow—what he fears most—is being beaten in a game of chess. Whenever a human shows up, he wants to challenge them. But he won’t risk losing. His life is on the line. So instead, he decides to take yours.”

Ray stared in silence. “What about you? Why are you here?” he asked.

“Me?” the bishop wheezed. “I spoke out. That’s not allowed. This camel caravan hunts down chess pieces, chess people, and your kind—humans—across the entire wasteland. And it’s vast. Even that giant building shaped like a king chess piece you saw from the cliff... even that’s just a fraction of it.”

“The King of this world sometimes speaks of new laws,” the bishop went on. “He climbs to the top of that towering structure and looks down upon the summoned chess people and living pieces. If anyone objects to what he says, he sends his general pieces after them. They’re executioners.”

“If you try to run, you have to cross the wasteland—there’s no other way. But the King communicates with the senior general, who always tracks you down. When there are two prisoners in the trailer, they’re taken to a small town in the desert. That’s where the worst punishment awaits.”

“In the center of that town is an arena shaped like a Dababarider piece. Inside, it’s built like a bullfighting ring—but instead of bulls, there are feral, bloodthirsty living pieces called Wildebeats. They feed on blood. And watching from high above, in his lofty tower seat, is the owner of the arena: a living piece known as Alibabarider.”

“You’ll see it for yourself—though probably only for a few seconds. Because once the Wildebeats gore you with their horns... that’s it,” the bishop said.

Ray couldn’t speak. He backed into the corner of his cell and sat down, trembling.

His mind drifted—first to this bizarre world of the Royal Game, and then, slowly, to his own world. For the first time, he truly felt how much he missed it. How much he missed his home.

And more than anything—his mother.

But that couldn’t be changed. His mother was dead. You can’t wave a wand over an urn full of ashes, turn around, and then turn back to find her alive again. Maybe in the world of the Royal Game, that kind of magic was possible. But this wasn’t Ray’s world. He didn’t belong here. And he wanted to go home.

But the Royal Game wanted to get rid of him too—just in a far crueler way.

Ray thought about his father. He had seen him once—but didn’t remember. His dad died when Ray was just two. He was rushing to work and didn’t look before crossing the street. A massive truck hauling several tons of cargo came barreling through. The driver tried to brake—but it was too late. Ray’s father never made it.

The driver was arrested for negligent manslaughter. The fact that he was speeding didn’t help his case—especially not in a city. Later, they found out he was on drugs. He lasted a month and five days in prison before he killed himself.

Ray only remembered his father from photos. His mother raised him alone—and over time, she became more and more absorbed in chess. Maybe because it made her think less about the loss of her husband. Eventually, she came to love the game—and when Ray turned eight, she taught him how to play. He beat her.

Ray still remembered that moment. That first win. It kick-started his chess career—as if he were a pawn heading toward the other side of the board, destined to become a king.

But his mother’s death—and falling into this world—felt like being captured by a player named Misfortune. Still, maybe, just maybe, he was only in check. Not checkmate. Not yet. The game wasn’t over.

Ray’s thoughts were cut off when the trailer suddenly jolted hard. He was thrown forward and slammed into the bars. The jolt had come because the camel chess pieces pulling the trailer had panicked—rearing up and veering off course. The general chess piece driving them had to act fast to regain control. They’d been heading straight for a massive square rock.

Luckily, no one was hurt. Even Ray, though he’d hit the bars, had only bumped his back—nothing broken.

The trailer stood still for a moment, creaking softly in the silence. Then it resumed moving, the camel figures tugging it back into rhythm. As it rolled forward again, Ray noticed something—something that gave him a sliver of hope.

The trailer door had a lock. Not just any lock—a coded one.

But instead of numbers, the dials featured silhouettes of various chess pieces. Sixteen in one row. Eight vertically. A full board.

The odds of guessing the right combination were, realistically, almost nonexistent.

Still, Ray gave it a try.

He entered a sequence that felt... likely. Intuitive, somehow. A pattern that meant something to him.

The lock didn’t budge.

It stayed shut—unyielding.

He stepped back, realizing the truth.

He wasn’t getting out.

The story will continue soon

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

A FEW WORDS FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear readers,

 As you’ve probably noticed, this isn’t the final part of the story. As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter, unlike in Dragon Wasteland, this story doesn’t yet include the additional sections with chess-related insights or the more detailed A Few Words from the Author. These will either appear at the end of the final chapter or be published separately on the blog afterward.

 If you enjoy my stories, feel free to join my Discord server—there you'll get access to exclusive tales I haven’t shared anywhere else, plus a bunch of other perks, many of which I talk about in this video.

In any case, thank you for taking the time to read this part. If you have any questions or feedback, feel free to let me know in the comments.

Thank you!