♙- Diary of a Pawn -♟

I've thought about writing a blog following the journey of a Young Pawn as he goes to war. I've written the first mini-chapter and want to gauge peoples reactions to see if it will be worth my time.
thanks, Sparty

♙- Diary of a Pawn -♟

~Chapter One~

The Opening

- Oct 31 1973

I love my country. There is no greater place on Earth than right here in the WhiteLands.

Mother raised me well.

Father died in the Scandinavian wars a long time ago at the hands of the Black Mistress no less...

He was a Pawn like me, as was his father, and his father.

Some say we are decended from the Great Knight Muzio who famously sacrificed himself so that we could go on to win the the so called "War to end all Wars".

It's how our family got our name... Sacrifice. My name is P. Sacrifice.

Every major war in history has seen at least one member of my family fall in combat; and while we are a respected family, it gets a lot of laughs from a lot of folk.

My family's reputation is one of decency but of foolhardiness. The Kids at school use to call me "Cannon Fodder". When I told teacher, she would say that I needed to accept the position in life...

There hasn't been a major war since the campaign to take back Nimzo-india, though word was spreading of trouble stirring in the East.

"War's a'coming I tells ya!" 

"Yeah, Yeah, war's always coming ain't it Irish?"

Two of the Kings Knights were bickering about end of the world mumbo jumbo at the local pub.

"I wasn't wrong about the the terrorist insurgency in the Yogoslav was I?" says Irish.

"That was years ago!"

"Was I wrong about Bird Flu?"

"Yeah, but this is coming from the Knight that got his Butt kicked 'cause he picked on a little black pawn. Her Dad wasn't too impressed now was he?" retorts his companion.

"I could have taken him on".

"You weren't quick enough though were you?"

"I just hate them" snaps Irish. "Every Last One of them... they come over here take our squares, steal our positions..."

He was off again. He kept going on and on about how much he hated Black Pieces. I get his patriotism, but you can't blame someone for wanting to live in the greatest place in the world just because they're black.

"WE MUST CUT THE HEAD OFF EVERY BLACK WOMAN AND CHILD!!!" yelled Irish.

"YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" roared the pub.

Apparently, you can...

"So what will it be P?"

That was Deedee, the Landlords daughter, barmaid of the Kings Head. She's not like everyone else.

She once said that beaneath the paint of one's coat, everyone is made of wood.

"I'll have a Scotch please Dee."

"Coming right up".

"Make that a double".

"Well don't have too much" said Dee, "You don't want to be a Passed out Pawn now do you?" She handed me the glass.

"Let me think about that... uh... Yes!"

Tromposky Mason, the Regional Bishop started playing the Fiancello. The singers and half the pub started singing an ancient song the ancestors heard on the Golden Disk that fell from the sky...

"Knights in White Satin,

Never Reaching the end,

Letters I've written,

Never meaning to send..."

The door to the pub swung open.

"War Has Been Declared! War Has Been Declared!!!"

A young Pawn rushed in through the doors. There was a moment of silence followed by an immediate wave of natter.

There were an all manner of looks on peoples faces, but the most common look was that of a person trying to hide some inner terror.

The commotion started rising and then the children started crying. There was a hooded figure in the corner of the pub not saying anything nor looking at anyone.

The Landlords wife was looking distressed.

"Okay, Settle Down!" said the Landlord in an elevated voice.

No Affect.

"Settle Down Now Everyone!" Said the Landlord a little louder.

The commotion intenstied...

"IF I DONT GET SOME CALM AND QUIET, I WILL STOP SERVING ALCOHOL... RIGHT NOW!"

The pub was silenced.

"Right..." said the Landlord. "Now let's just hear what the Lad has to say shall we? Go on lad..."

The young lad from earlier stepped up towards the bar and faced the crowd.

"I overheard Reti..."

"Reti! What? The Reti!?" said one of the crowd...

"Yes, I overheard him saying to one of them castle types that some Pawn called Bird died from injuries he got whilst spying on the Black Armies and that before he died he caught a glimpse of the new Black King..."

"Who's the new king?!?!?" Begged the crowd. "Who's the new King !?" The Lad looked worried...

"Tell us!!! Tell us you son of a Bishop!"

"Tell them, my son" said Mason.

The young Pawn looked down at the board then up again.

"He said it was the Knight Short, or N.Short... or something like that. He said he had taken the Kingship for himself and assumed himself as OverLord of all the DarkLands, that's all I know."

The older pub goers looked at each other with concern.

One of the elders stepped up. He was a wethered Pawn but seemed to hold a solemn respect nonetheless.

"We have had a most grevious news delivered to us this day. For those of you who are too young to remember, the darkness of the old wars tested even the best of us. But I warn you... though our genrations time of war was difficult, the powers of Voldemort and Lord Sauron are no match to the Darkness that we found within N.Short.

He was but a lowly Pawn in our day, but he rose through the ranks with tremendous political play. Some of us even speculate that it was he who stabbed the back of the last Black King... and it would seem that this may actually be the case given the situation.

May every able bodied Pawn, Bishop and Castle volunteer for the Kings Army...

There is no greater honour than in serving King and country into battle.

By the Teak of my back and the Felt of my feet... we must defend ourselves if we want our children to have a future."

There was a quiet moment when all took in the Old Pawns' words.

"I have one more thing" piped the young Mason Pawn.

"Reti caught me eavesdropping on him... He asked me to deliver these letters to some of you."

He went round and started delivering letters to most of the Pawns, to his father Bishop Mason, one of the Knights ( not Irish).

Last, he came to me.

It was a fine letter in beautifully handwritten cursive letters.

"To Mr P.C.F Sacrifice,

On behalf of the King, 

I, Queen Parham of Bishops Palace, do humbly request your servitude in the White forces,

Signed Parham R"

I looked at Dee.

"I'm being Draughted. Dee! I'm being Draughted!"

OMG I just laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. Please write more!