Reign of Terror

Out on the play lot, among the children swinging and climbing, two young gentleman sat across from each other in the sand, and each emptied a bag of marbles into their hands. The silence between them broken only with a menacing glare. The mild summer day would lend well to another death match. There was only one certainty...marbles would crash.

Tim's bag was overflowing with the spoils of war. He handled the glass balls as if they were fragile ornaments, holding them up to admire them before returning them to the safety of his leather pouch. His reign of terror had swept through the class like an invincible marauding hoard engulfing everything in its path. His thirst for victory was unquenchable and grew more merciless with each new asset. His calculating observation of each glass ball was either an evaluation of its utility or drunken admiration of his own power over it, but probably both. He carefully placed the pieces he cared for most back into his pouch.

Ted sat opposite from Tim with relaxed composure, his disastrously small armada of four already assembled in front of him. His meek disinterest was unbecoming to the small group gathered around. He seemed to almost beg for the class' final bastion to be pillaged.

The spectators watched intently as Tim held each specimen, waiting to see if one of the weapons they had once owned and beloved would be placed in limbo. Everyone knew how much Fred loved his shiny blue jewel, and all watched in anticipation as Tim held it high, observing it longer then the others. Fred's head sunk in despair as the magic blue piece was slowly and deliberately placed back it into the sack. Through the robotic presence a crack of a smile could be perceived on one side of Tim's lips as Fred turned to walk away. He would reserve his choice for a psychological adversary of greater consequence.

All in class brooded in secret anger, defending their own former marbles with as much indifference as possible. They knew Tim would choose one special marble, the one he felt was most loved by a particular classmate. He had a way of knowing who was most vulnerable...who needed to see their marble back into the hands of anyone but Tim. Anyone at all. All acted like they were impervious to Tim's little game, but he always knew. As he held each marble up he could feel weakness. Once discovered, he would delight in the opportunity to use this precious marble to occupy another. This vicious cycle had consumed the children and all watched in invisible horror as each of their marbles was placed back into the sack. It would be only slightly less horrific to see it enter the ring, but they hoped nonetheless.

Meanwhile Ted sat casually, flicking tiny sticks in Tim's direction. Finally, the choice was at hand...an opaque red marble was lifted high. The crowd took a collective gasp. This was what many felt was Ted's most prised possession...the great ball of fire. Tim rolled it between his fingers ominously. A tiny stick bounced off the side of Tim's cheek and all watched in amazement as the ball of fire was gently placed among the spherical contestants.

Ted immediately washed the sand flat in front of him with his hand, then, with care, drew the outline of the perimeter. To the surprise of everyone, instead of drawing a circumference, Ted fashioned a rectangle. "Today we play gaipar."

Tim was neither amused nor disturbed. He nodded in acceptance. This was shockingly unexpected. In gaipar, Ted was risking all four marbles simultaneously. If Tim could expel the gai, they would be lost in a single round. But, being the challenger, Ted had the first shot.

Ted carefully placed his boulder behind the perimeter and crouched in his position. He could take all of Tim's warriors in one powerful shot. If he missed, he knew it was over...Tim would methodically pick away each turn until he had occupied every last one with the ball of fire. Ted's strategy gave him the immediate advantage, but required courage, which would quickly convert to stupidity if he missed. Failure would place the last of our planet's known marbles into Tim's hands.

The crowd held their breath as Ted fearlessly aligned his shot. Tim sat motionless in his stoic, statue-like posture. Everyone knew Tim's unbeaten record could be shattered in one roll. History would depend on one brave shot of the boulder, one taken against all odds.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Tim quickly grasped all of his marbles, placed them in his sack, and walked toward the schoolhouse.

Ted, disheveled, gracefully removed his meager assembly and followed Tim with the rest of the crew back to class.

Tim's reign of terror did officially yield weeks later, but posterity does not recollect the official captor of the great ball of fire, only the artist courageous enough to draw the new arena.