Peter Jacobs was around thirty years old when he realized, for the first time, that he was vanishing.
Piece by piece.
First, his ingenious ideas, those that he believed were immortal, simply evaporated on one fine day.
Then, his ingenuity and his kindness were amputated.
The disappearance went on and on:
When he turned sixty, fourteen teeth, fifty per cent of his hair, a kidney and a good part of his liver ran away from him.
Now, Peter Jacobs, the way he was at the beginning of this story, no longer exists.
The only thing that remains is a spirit, wearing his shoes.
The metaphor of this man can now be found in a cloud of smoke, dragging the pieces across the board in a local chess club, and for a moment, this visage might even make you believe that there is really somebody there playing chess.
***
A/N: Theme song: "Coldplay: Viva la Vida."
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Tiny Tales | ✔️
Short StoryThis book is a collection of numerous short stories I have created, both mini and midi ones, written in the period of the past twenty years. Some of them are award-winning entries in various micronarrative competitions. Others were adapted with the...
