The Black And White World Of Chess

Naomi preferred the chessboard to reality. When playing, every piece and every rule is precise. Away from the game, nothing seems certain. Why am I feeling these emotions, and what do they mean? Did he really say that? Could this really be happening?

The only deviations in chess come from unexpected moves, whether it's double exclamation point brilliance or a tragic blunder that would have seemed inconceivable from a player of such caliber, they still exist within the framework of the board.

So how can it hurt more to be betrayed by someone you love than to lose a match?

Executive Execution

He said he was blown over, that the breeze from the kitchen door had left him defenseless. But our Lord sees only in black and white. The laws are clear: no dust bunny shall enter another bunny’s land--no exceptions. A silent crowd awaits as the trespasser is dragged into the dimly lit square: thrashing, kicking, pleading. It is pointless. Laws are laws, we must simply obey. He is tied to the base of a pink cocktail umbrella. We all turn our heads to our Lord expectantly. He gives a simple nod. The match is struck and the pyre lit.

From Guest Contributor Skyler Bath

Apple Jenga

Pyramids of fruit abound in the market’s produce section.

A man pokes and squeezes to find the perfect Gala. Five tiers down, he locates a winner, and the Jenga game begins.

He shapes his hand into a “C,” then moves in slowly to extract the prize, leaving a hole in the pyramid where the apple once was.

Standing a little taller, he raises his chin and puffs up his chest.

One aisle over, he sees a woman arch her back and hold her shoulders high. Next to her, three holes exist in the Golden Delicious pile.

He’s met his match.

From Guest Contributor Jennifer Lai

Myth Match

The day is cold even by New England standards. Girls dump menstrual blood on icy sidewalks in some kind of protest. Myth is dead. Our high school biology textbook compared the body to a furnace. Mr. C, our very nice teacher, was killed that spring with his wife and baby daughter in a car wreck. There’s no point in speaking ironically to people who can’t understand irony. You’ll just end up having to publicly apologize. Freud said dreams are the day’s residue. It has to linger for a while, as if to warn we’re a danger to self and others.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.

Old Criminal History

The site of the homicide is vicious and bloody. No evidence is found except fingerprints left on the victim.

Later Detective Lance Jones tells his partner Carl that AFIS found a match to the bloody fingerprints left at the crime scene. The homicide is so violently over the top that Carl is sure the perpetrator has to be a young healthy muscular male.

Carl is surprised when Lance tells him the suspect is an older male.

“Did you say the suspect is sixty-four years old?” asks Carl.

“Well, he was in 1942 the last time he was arrested,” Lance replies.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

Match Light

The flame exploded into being as the match head dragged across the sandpaper. It might have seemed magical, but really it was just that the glass-on-glass friction generated enough heat to kindle the match's phosphorus.

The match provided the only light in the entire house, perhaps the entire city. Between the impenetrable clouds and the power outage, darkness had descended as quickly as the sun.

The illumination lasted long enough for Theresa to count the remaining matches. Seventeen. Each one guaranteed to ignite but she knew such guarantees were hollow.

Seventeen matches to survive until the end of the world.

There's Probably A Metaphor Somewhere

They'd played countless times, but never with so much at stake. Their matches began as flirtation, then morphed into courtship. They won in equal amounts until, as time passed, her victories became mostly afterthought.

Their styles contrasted perfectly. He was aggressive, careless even, looking to strike quickly at her most vulnerable spots. She played cautiously, guarding every pawn. Eventually, he'd wear down her defenses.

This was their final game. The winner would keep the house, the car, the dog. When she won, he couldn't believe it.

"You were always awful at chess. I let you win because it was easier."