Human Chess is more terrifying than you think, a scarecast original written by Simba, the

Savage Eight.

At first, there was darkness, and then there was light.

Out myself in a corner next to a rough border, running to the northwest, was tightly woven

with threads of skin, blood still gushing through little rivlets of crimson, and I was

standing on a marble square, it was too white, too polished, too clean.

Next to me was a darker square, made of dark wood, so full and deep, and on and on and

white and black over and over, eight meters long, eight meters to the north, eight meters

to the west, I could see where it ended at the other end, that skin border running north

towards to the other side of the giant square.

The blood was still gushing, eight times eight, a chessboard.

It had been a long time since I had first sat down for a game of chess.

I was 10 years old when my father tried to teach me.

Fishups moved diagonally, nights moving in L shape, castling, promotion, un-pissant,

so many rules, on and on and on, and I never really understood it.

So after a few weeks of my dad trying to teach me, I lost interest and disappeared outside.

Though chess sets sat on the shelves, collecting dust, and now, I was dragged back into it.

A brain still felt foggy, and nausea rose up to my throat, I turned and coughed to the

side, but nothing came out.

It was getting increasingly hot, too, I was vaguely aware of the sweat bearing on my forehead

and on the palms of my hands.

It was then that I slowly realized that there was something heavy on my head, like I was

...