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?

Still Mad

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling hungry and went down to the kitchen. I had leftover pizza in the fridge that would really hit the spot.

Bob was sitting at the table, as if he were expecting me. I ignored him as I took out the plate and put it in the microwave. I wasn't happy about how our last conversation had ended so I was annoyed to see him here, like nothing had happened.

He finally spoke. "Are you still mad?"

I chose not to respond. I have a longstanding rule against speaking to ghosts.

Authors And Readers

It became obvious to the Minister of Culture that everyone wanted to be a writer, and no one wanted to be a reader. When the Minister of Culture collected statistics, she noticed that most of the stories published by reputable publications remained unread. With the support of Parliament, the MOC instituted a new rule: for every story published on the internet, the writer was obliged to read ten stories by other authors and write a summary and critique of each story. This practice led to a number of happy authors and readers, who turned out to be the same people.

From Guest Contributor Anita G. Gorman

Five-Minute Rule

An apple drops onto the produce floor and bounces twice before rolling under the corn stack. You’d hoped to walk away, but three ladies saw it happen and are giving you an accusatory look. So you pick up the fruit and carry it to the baked goods section.

Five minutes later, you return the dropped apple and turn it inwards to hide the bruised spot and wet corn silk.

You grin with satisfaction and think of the poor sucker who doesn’t check his fruit before purchase.

At home, later that day, you unbag your peaches and notice they are mushy.

From Guest Contributor Jennifer Lai

Fresh Air

After twelve years of working on the 72nd floor of that building his curiosity got the better of him.

He’d been warned, “Whatever you do, don’t open the windows on this floor.” But it was the only floor with windows that opened. Why would there be a rule against using them?

Everyone was diligently working in their cubicles. He’d only crack it an inch or two. The latch flipped quietly.

Just as he placed his hands against the pane it disappeared, as if it had never existed. In his surprise he didn’t realize he’d leaned forward too far. He fell.

From Guest Contributor Cameron Filas

Irresistible

Brian loved being an angel. Heaven was a playground without any teachers and Earth was Tombstone before Wyatt Earp came to town. In other words, anything goes.

There was just one rule to being an angel. Every angel learned, upon getting his wings, the one hard fast prohibition that could get you in hot water. Unfortunately, Brian had broken it three times this very first morning.

Now Brian was going to hell.

"You'd think God would have learned his lesson with the apple. If you don't want people punching baby angels in the face, don't make a rule prohibiting it."