THE QUIET CHECKMATE
Some stories… you don’t just write.
You survive them.
I just wrapped the final scene of a screenplay I’ve been living with for over a month. And I say living with because this wasn’t one of those breezy weekend scripts where characters flirt and plots resolve with a kiss in the rain. No. This one had sharp edges. And it knew where to cut.
It took me to dark, silent places—places where grief doesn’t shout, it watches. Where every character’s arc is forged in silence and pain. I found myself pacing my room at midnight, questioning not just the characters’ motives, but my own. I felt like I was walking barefoot on broken glass—knowing I had to cross, but dreading every step.
At one point, I had to pause and study the intricacies of a specific chess move. I thought I’d just Google a cool play and move on. But no. The scene demanded more. The stakes were higher. So I ended up neck-deep in Sicilian Defense, Zugzwang, and the beautiful cruelty of the Smothered Mate. That moment became a quiet war. No weapons. Just minds trying to outlive each other on a checkered battlefield.
What began as a simple idea—a flicker—turned into something heavier. Something real. This script tested me. And strangely, I’m grateful for that.
I’m not going to reveal the title just yet. Not the plot either.
Let’s just say… some sparks don’t just light up a room.
They burn through your soul.
More soon.
Mahdi Ahmed 
Leave a comment