Checkers Characters Story

The door to our front hallway swings open on silent hinges. Black and red tiles cover the floor. Two paintings hang on the wall, one a stack of red checkers, the other, a stack of black checkers. My long black hair slips over my shoulders, tickling, as I lean forward, making sure the hall is empty. Not a soul in sight. I sigh. Thank goodness.

I step into the hall and close the door behind me. I find what I am looking for at the center of the hall. A red jump rope is coiled on the ground. I go over to it and bend down to pick it up, keeping one hand on my fascinator, a large red checker that is balanced on the side of my head. My red and black checkered skirt, matching the floor, blossoms around me as I bend down. My fingers graze the twined material of the rope, a shiver of child-like excitement moves from my fingertip to my shoulder. I stand up and twirl the rope in my hands.

Today was a long day. Nothing went wrong, I’m just a little envious of my sister. Blackie may be the oldest twin, but she sure has a young heart, full of energy. But, now that I am alone, I can relax for a moment, stop being the mature one. Just jump some rope. Finally, alone without Blackie following me everywhere, without Blackie demanding to play too, I can play by myself.

I hold up my arms and lift the rope. It dangles from my fingers, the building energies of my tense limbs ready to release. My knees tighten, I begin to crouch.

Bam! The hallway door slams open and Blackie runs in.

“Reddie! There you are—is that a rope? I thought I had left it somewhere! Let’s play jump rope!” Blackie exclaims. She bends over, her hands on her knees as she catches her breath. I don’t want to know where she ran from in the house to get all the way over here. Blackie huffs a sigh and straightens up. She stomps her black-socks feet and holds up her hands, ready to play.

“I just want to play by myself right now Blackie,” I say. I try to keep my voice calm, but I can’t help my shaking hands. My alone time was already taken away. I drop my hands; one end of the jump rope falls to the ground. It’s muffled thump echoes.

Blackie’s eyes widen and her mouth opens and closes. “W-what? You don’t want to play with me? But jump ropes are my favorite. Are you trying to hide it from me?”

“I’m not trying to hide it. I just—agh. I wanted some alone time. Alright?” I snap.

“You can’t play alone though.”

“Yes, I can, and I will. I’m going to my room. I want to be alone,” I say. I turn around and go to exit out of the other end of the hallway when a sharp tug pulls me back. Blackie had snatched onto the end of the rope and is reeling me back in. Her hands clamber over the rope, one over the other until she wraps a length of it around her fist.

“We will play tug-of-war! If you win, then you can leave!” Blackie yells. She laughs and gives another tug. I stumble and grasp onto my end of the rope. I lock my legs against her pulls.

“I don’t want to play—let go!” I only want a moment to myself! Blackie follows me everywhere.

“Only if you win!” Blackie says with a laugh. She is fully into the game now.

“Let go!” I yell again. I don’t want to play any games. I tug hard on the rope, I jerk my arms downward and pull with all my might. I hear Blackie gasp and see her snap forwards as the ropes tighten around her fingers. She yelps.

“That hurts!”

“Then. Let. Go!”

Blackie pulls back hard, jerking the rope on my as well. I hold my ground as we dive into an argument.

“Just give me my rope back, I don’t always have to play with you. You spend all day goofing off anyway. I just want to relax. You are exhausting!”

“I just wanted to play. Isn’t that supposed to be nice?!”

The rope begins to creak. My hands are bright red from the pressure, and I can’t feel my fingers. Blackie is biting her lip and I can tell she is feeling the same strain. She should just give up! We continue to pull, the rope vibrates, shaking as it stretches farther and farther—snap!

The rope breaks. I feel weightless for a moment, my hands up in the air, my feet knocked out from under me. Suddenly, as if someone unfroze the clock, time returns, and I smash into the hard red and black floor.

A space of time passes before I can find myself and push myself to sit up. I feel a little dizzy. My eyes burn as I hold my broken half of the rope in my hands. Across the way with the rest of the torn red rope trailing to her, Blackie sits in a daze, her eyes slowly widen, and her face reddens as she looks from the rope to me. Big hot tears gather at the corner of my eyes. I try to blink them away, but they release to roll down my cheeks and splash onto the wrecked rope.

I cry.

“Oh no, oh no—Reddie, I’m so sorry!” Blackie says. She gets up and runs over to me, dropping to her knees. “Are you okay? Did I make you get hurt?”

My sobs rack my body, I cry over the rope and over the stress of it all. I barely make out Blackie as she worries and talks to me, trying to soothe me.

“Reddie, my twin, I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have made you play with me,” Blackie says. She tears up too. I begin to hiccup, trying to breathe around the thickening feeling in my throat. Blackie’s knees bump mine, her high red socks to my black.

“I’m sorry Reddie, I’m sorry.” Blackie puts down her rope and pulls me into a hug, smothering me in her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I made you cry, I’m sorry I broke your rope. I won’t make you do it again, I’m sorry.”

I can only feel the weight of the broken rope in my hand.

Suddenly, Blackie lets go of me and sits up. I wipe my face and sniffle, hoping I don’t have boogers dripping down my nose. Blackie picks up her rope and looks at it for a moment, the frayed end splaying in her grasp.

“I have an idea,” she says. “Can I see your piece?”

I hold mine to me, tucking it to my chest. I shake my head no.

“Please? I think I can fix it,” Blackie asks. Her voice is pleading. I blink back my tears and hand over the rope. Blackie snatches it away and holds it up to her end. Suddenly, she twists the two ends together and ties them together. She tugs on the knot to make sure it is tight.

“Done!” Blackie exclaims. “You’re right, I am a little too goofy sometimes. A lot of the time. But I am sorry for breaking your toy, I hope it isn’t too short to play jump rope now. And I mean jump rope by yourself of course. I can leave you alone, I can let you have some space if that is what you need.”

“It’s just so stressful,” I say. I wipe my tears on my wrist. “I always have to be the mature one. I don’t have time to play as you do. Everyone accepts that you will goof around, but not me. I have to be serious. It is so much pressure sometimes, I just wanted a little break.”

Blackie looks at me with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought I might have gotten on your nerves at the very least, but I didn’t know about the stress of it all. I’m sorry—I know I keep saying it but I’m so sorry. You were just trying to have some alone time and I ruined it. I’ll help more, I promise. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No,” I say. I pick up the rope and loop it around us twice. “The rope might have broken but I don’t want to lose my sister over this.”

Blackie hugs me again, “I will help more—I swear it!”

“As long as that means not forcibly playing with me,” I say with a smile.

“I promise. I will try to support you from now on. You mean too much to me for me not to try to help. I promise to be more considerate of your feelings. I love you.”

“I love you too sis.”