Birdie

One, two. One, two. Hit and return.
Player One said, “We are both too good at this game. How long has it been since someone has scored?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.
“Was that the point you think? To choose a game that we both excel at so that we would eventually have to talk to one another?”
“I don’t know.”
The motion of running steps, the focus on the birdie, it was like moving meditation.

—————

Player One almost tripped and Player Two barked a laugh. Still no point scored. Bounce and return. Bounce and return.
Player One said, “What were we even fighting about? Do you remember?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.
“It’s like, I know that I don’t like you. I just can’t put my finger on why. Is it because of that hang dog look that you have about you? Is it because you wronged me in some way? I can’t imagine that’s it. I can’t think of anything that I would be upset about. Nothing really matters anymore, does it.”
Player Two grunted. Apparently, this was finally something that they could agree on. He sent the birdie sailing back.
Player One said, “What if it was something really arbitrary? Like, I dropped my cheeseburger and you laughed at the horrible crushing loss that I must have felt in that moment? . . . Do you laugh?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.

—————

Player One said, “Forget wondering how long it’s been since someone has scored. How long have we been here? It feels like years. What is the score now anyhow?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.
Player one took an opportunity to glance behind him and saw the score written glaringly large in neon lettering across the whole wall. “What do you mean you don’t know?! You can see the board without even having to turn your head. Maybe it’s crap like this that’s why I don’t like you.”
Player Two bared his teeth and violently sent the birdie sailing back.
Player One said, “It has had to have been years, maybe even decades. Years of you giving me back nothing except mess of ‘I don’t knows’ and the birdie. Always the birdie. I can’t even remember what food tastes like. Can you?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.

—————

Player One said, “You know what, that’s it. I’m going to let you win. No matter that I’m in the lead, I’ve been in the lead for so long that that hardly has any meaning anymore either. What do you think is going to happen? Whatever comes next has to be better. Better than this endless fight I cannot win. Right?”
“I don’t know,” said Player Two.
“Oh, I can’t tell you how glad I am that I won’t have to hear that ever again. I’m going to pretend that I know everything from here on out, just so I don’t ever even have to hear myself say it!”
Player One set down his racket. He let the birdie sail past. He sat down on the middle of the floor facing the scoreboard, legs crossed like he used to do in elementary school. He watched the birdie sail past again. He watched the score change. The lighted numbers under Player Two’s name climbed higher and higher until they reached twenty one.
Silence followed.

—————

An outline of a door appeared in the wall under the scoreboard. A figure in a white suit approached. Player One got up and turned around. The room was empty behind him.
Player One asked, “Where did he go? The one that I was playing against?”
“He’s been reabsorbed.”
“What?”
“Reabsorbed. Returned to the host consciousness.”
“Uh huh. Whose host consciousness”
“Why, yours, of course. You had a decision to make and you’ve wasted years trying to make it. At last, you gave in and now he is out there in the real world acting on the results of this competition.”
“What were we even fighting about? I can’t remember.”
“You were deciding whether or not to go after the girl. Might be too late now, but you are out there giving it a shot. In this competition you represented your pure indifference to life. The other one never knew the answers to your questions because he was so focused on the desire to go after her that he thought of nothing else. He really didn’t know.”
Player one asked, “So, all of this time, I was fighting myself?”
“Yes. And you allowed yourself to win.”
“By losing.”
“Yes.”
“Well, what happens now?”
“You wait here until another challenge arises. If you win, you’ll get to go back for a while, drive the body, so to speak. Best of luck.”
The figure in the white suit let themselves out of the sliding door and then it disappeared.

—————

Player One settled onto the floor and waited. His eyes focused on the birdie, lying crooked on the ground where it had fallen. He recalled the feel of the racket in his hand. He thought about the next game. How long would it be until it began and how long would it take?
He gave a large sigh and then sank back into the feeling that it didn’t really matter anyway. After all, what did?

Prompt ▼

For tomorrow write about two enemies who are playing a game of badminton. The first to 21 points will win, and it is a matter of honor to

come first. Try and make your judge laugh as your genre is Comedy. You must choose this as one of your genres to qualify for the

competition.

As always, the word count limit for stories is 1000 and the line count limit for poems is 40.

Author's Note ▼

This really got away from me. Haha! One of the stranger things to emerge from my mind of late.