The Ocean of War

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The Ocean of War

                There are three objects in the room.  The first is the photograph of the distant ancestor, the second is the dated chair, and the third is the missing chess piece.  Each has a wealth of experience and knowledge, but seems to be incapable of communication, at least to any member of the kingdom animalia.  However, more error would be impossible with regards to this thinking.  The lone ant, in its depressed, monotonous existence, began its journey from the small hole in the northeastern corner of the room to the crack under the door on the other side. 

                “Fall, worthless vermin!” called the photograph.

                “Feel the wrath of the cheese!” screeched the chair.

                “Checkmate, my friend,” said the chess piece.

                The ant was lifted from its lowness and flipped at a rapid pace, fifty to sixty times in the air before falling and perishing upon the cold, heartless wooden floor. 

                The photograph’s wisdom was the greatest.  Its sole purpose was not to hang on the wall, as a vague memento of the distant past, most definitely not.  Rather, it was the key, the portal, into the next dimension.  The feeble minds of the humans could not perceive the fifth dimension; this power was beyond the realm of possibility for living things.  The chair’s strength was the greatest.  Its structural stability was unmatched by any standing being in the history of the universe.  Little did anyone, or anything, know, however, for even the photograph was unaware of the power held by the frail chair.  One breath from this chair had intensity sufficient to bring the world to its knees, its spirit spurting out its fingertips to be lost for eternity in the darkness.  The pawn’s courage was the greatest.  Its function far exceeded that of the lowly game of chess, invented by beings unworthy of licking the toes of the oak.  Centuries ago, it had taken down the very best of all, including the regime of the Khan, the earthquake of the oceans, and the plague.  It stared death in the eye, and laughed.  This was the sole creature able to destroy, in its full meaning.  The universe could be wasted with one blink of the eye of the piece.

                Which, then, took the innocent life of the ant?  Which held power greater than that of the Mayans?  Doubtful it seemed.  When all hope was lost, the chime of the clock signaled the end; all could finally rest.