This short story is from <Feel Better Compilation of Short Stories for Seniors> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
Life is a kind of chess, with struggle, competition, good and ill events. –Benjamin Franklin
Mr. Davis was known as the unbeatable chess champion in the park. Every afternoon, he would set up his chessboard under the old oak tree, challenging all comers and consistently defeating them. His reputation was unmatched, and he had yet to lose a game. People admired his skill and precision, but some also found him a bit intimidating with his stern demeanor and unwavering focus.
One sunny afternoon, a young boy named Kevin approached the chess table. He was small for his age, with a mop of unruly hair and a determined look in his eyes.
“I’d like to play,” Kevin said, his voice steady.
Mr. Davis looked him over, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure, young man? Chess isn’t a game for the fainthearted.”
Kevin nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”
The game began, and to everyone’s surprise, Kevin played with remarkable skill. Move after move, he countered Mr. Davis’s strategies, keeping pace with the seasoned champion. The onlookers grew quiet, watching the intense battle unfold.
After an hour of intense play, Kevin made a decisive move, putting Mr. Davis in checkmate. The crowd gasped, and Mr. Davis stared at the board in disbelief.
“You’ve beaten me,” he muttered, barely able to process the defeat. Determined to regain his honor, Mr. Davis challenged Kevin to three more games, but the outcome was the same each time. Kevin won, and Mr. Davis found himself humiliated and frustrated.
After the final game, Mr. Davis stormed away from the table, his face flushed with anger. Kevin watched him go, his expression unreadable.
The next day, Mr. Davis returned to the park, still sour from his defeat. He saw Kevin sitting alone on a bench, staring at the chessboard. Despite his initial anger, something in Kevin’s demeanor softened his heart.
“Kevin,” Mr. Davis called out, walking over to him, “how did you get so good at chess?”
Kevin looked up, his eyes filled with sadness. “I used to play with my parents. They taught me everything I know. But they died in a car accident last year. Playing chess helps me feel close to them.”
Mr. Davis felt a pang of sympathy. The boy’s skill wasn’t just natural talent; it was born out of a need for connection and comfort. His anger and frustration melted away, replaced by understanding.
“Kevin,” Mr. Davis said softly, “I’m sorry for your loss. Would you like to play a game with me?”
Kevin’s face lit up with a small smile. “I’d like that.”
They set up the board and began to play. This time, they talked as they played, sharing stories and getting to know each other. As the days passed, Mr. Davis and Kevin continued their matches. They played nearly every afternoon, drawing a small crowd of regular spectators who enjoyed watching their friendly rivalry.
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