Checkmate: Game of the Departed

Chapter Two: Moonlight

Bea stared at the dream catcher that swung gently above her head, the air from the painfully slow fan giving it a slight nudge every now and then. Sighing, she kicked the covers off and sat at the edge of the bed. She tapped a rhythm on the bed frame as she stared absently into the mirror that was hanging across from her. Making a purposeful effort to focus her eyes, she peered at her reflection. Breaking her gaze from her one on one staring contest she looked out the window of her Grandparents spare room and directly at the moon.

Bea had always loved the moon, especially when it was full and bright like this. It reminded her of the sun but somehow softer. Getting up from the mattress, she softly padded her way over to the window sill and stood on the stool that she had placed there for this very purpose. She had gazed at this view hundreds of times, each somehow more beautiful than the last. She stood up on her tippy toes and blew onto the window, the heat from her breath making the glass fog up. A small smile playing on her lips, Bea reached up one hand and begun to trace into the fog. With a final line, Bea stepped down from the stool and stood with her hands on her hips, admiring her work of art. A creak made her turn only to see that the door had slid open ever so slightly.

Her Grandparents house had always had a problem with creaking. The one time she had asked her Granddad why he didn't just get the creaks fixed, he had chuckled slightly and replied, "Why on earth would I do that? The creaks mean that nothing can sneak up on me!" That was the first time Bea had seen the way her Granddad's eyes went blank, like he was remembering something he really didn't want to. She used to find it scary but now it was just something that was part of how Granddad worked.

Bea shook the image out of her head and slowly crept toward the slightly opened door. She peered through the gap into the empty hall, only illuminated by the moonlight that streamed from the spare room. Bea turned to go back to bed when she suddenly remembered that she had left the chess game out. Concerned about the condition of the old game, Bea quietly passed through the doorway, sliding the door shut as she did so. Taking measured steps down the hall she eventually made her way into the kitchen, grabbing a chair from the dining table as she passed it. Pushing the chair up against the fridge, Bea used her arms to sweep the top of the fridge for a flashlight. Once she had found one, she climbed back down from the chair, making her way through to the other side of the kitchen. Turning the light on Bea quietly bounced toward where she had left the stairs down from her adventure in the attic early that morning.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, the rusty hinges of the trap-door squeaked to life as Bea squeezed, once again, into the dusty space of the attic.