Checkmate

This is just practice for a short story, so the actual story itself may not be perfect. I wrote it yesterday and was pleased with it just being a prototype. It doesn't need to be perfect, I think it's good enough :). So here it is, and I hope you like it:

“Check…and mate…”

That was the moment I finally beat my egotistical brother at the logical game of chess. I couldn’t believe I had gotten his King in a corner. That was the best move of my life. I took my Knight and pushed him in a tough spot next to my Bishop and Rook. He couldn’t move.

I could see him get up in frustration; I watched him moan and groan. He was ready to flip the board over in disagreement, in disbelief. I won! I really won the game and there was nothing he could do about it. He was such a sore loser and a terrible sport. I couldn’t believe the fit he was having….okay, maybe I can believe the fit he was having. But he was being such a big baby about it, pouting like his candy got taken away by a stranger. Remember kids, “Don’t take candy from strangers and don’t let anyone take candy from you. Bottom line, don’t let a stranger take candy from you….Or your little brother.”

I laughed, but not whole-heartedly. I was still wondering if I truly beat him. I looked at the board one last time before his fingers reached the edge. He was cornered and there was no possible way that he could’ve gotten out of it. He was in a pickle and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t own up to that one, simple defeat and take it like a man. I watched as he twirled the board in the air and let the pieces fly and drift farther apart from each other. And I smiled up at him without noticing a black Queen hit me directly on the top of my head.

“I win.”

“No. New game.”

“I’ll play another game as soon as you pick up all those pieces you flung to the floor. And I mean every last one of them.”

He gave me a determined look, and he smirked, “My pleasure.”

He hadn’t known a pawn was there under my foot. I played like I needed to tie my shoe and I picked it up. It was over. It was over when my lips said “mate”. I didn’t need to play him again. I was confident over my victory while he was being insecure over his loss. His loss is my gain, so why should I give him another chance to take it back after fate so willingly put it in my hands? Victory was at my fingertips the moment the game started because fortune was on my side. I don’t need to play him again to see if I could defeat him again. I just needed that one time and that was enough for me.

“See you later, alligator. Hope you find all those pieces.”

I walked out of the kitchen with a big grin on my face. I proceeded to put the pawn somewhere safe and sound: my right shoe by the door. And I looked back at him and gave him the farewell salute. His face couldn’t have looked angrier and my face happier. This is what happens when you make a promise with your fingers crossed. He crossed his when he promised to be at my baseball game the other day; I saw it but he didn’t realize that. So I crossed mine when I “promised” him a chance to redeem his winning streak. Two can play at that game, sir, two can play at that game.

Ah, when victory is best served on a silver platter with a golden serpent as the main dish.

A Man's Faith

     My professor, Dean of Freshman Studies, told me and the class an especially interesting story about hope and faith. (I go to a Catholic university just to make things clear.) She told us about this man during Hurricane Sandy in New York had relied on God for everything, but there was a cool twist at the end. Since I thought the story was cool, I thought I would share it. Let me just see if I can get the words out right and remember correctly.

 

     Now this man was in his home and the police were warning everybody about the storm. The rain was falling down hard, and everyone was evacuating. The police came to the man's door to warn him and take him to safety. The man shook his head and replied, "No, God will take care of me." The police obviously couldn't understand why he would want to stay in his house with danger on the way. But they eventually left.

     This time the rain wasn't just pouring down; the flood was here. And it filled the first floor of the house. So the police had come by boat while the man had moved from ground floor to the second. They told him through the second floor's window, "Come, we're here to rescue you. You can't stay in this house any longer." The man still refused to go and replied, "No, I told you 'God will take care of me.'" And off again they went.

     The next time the police had to come by helicopter because the man was now on top of his roof. The hurricane flooded his house from top to bottom, or bottom to top, whichever way you would like to put it. The police dropped the ladder from the helicopter and offered it to the man, "Your house is gone. You're sitting on its roof and you are in need of assistance. Grab the ladder so we can save you. You can't survive the hurricane, it'll kill you." Again, this stubborn, stubborn man said "no" one more time. "I told you I don't need your help. I'm fine. God will take care of me." And they left.

     If you think there was another instant that the police came to save him, you're dead wrong. Did the man live? Of course not. He's dead. Anyone could've found that out easily, but when you think the whole story was about faith, you would normally assume he lived. What came next was the interesting part.

     The guy is now dead, and he confronts the Big Man Up in the Sky. The man asks, "Why? Why did I die, God? I thought you said if I had enough faith, you would take care of me. So why did I have to die?"

     "My child, I was taking care of you."

     "How?"

     "I sent you the police, I sent you the boat, and I sent you the helicopter. And you refused all three. I never did stop taking care of you. I was always there. But you denied my assistance. And therefore, you stand before me."

     I loved that ending. Even though I'm not religious, I thought that it was pretty touching. I don't even remember why my professor told us that story, but oddly I remember the story. Maybe it spoke to me in some way, I don't know. I hope others could take this and apply it to themselves. It doesn't even have to be about God. Just think of it as your own idea of how you control every bit of your actions and the choices you make (whether right or wrong), and how they determine what happens next. Basically, your actions have consequences.

Childhood Memories

Childhood Memories

 

Night's hold on me as its many eyes gazed at me from above my head

Night's cool breath through my hair

Night's soft whispers saying "Sweet dreams"

It feels all too like a mother to me.

I dared to hold her, too, as I gazed up at her caring, shining eyes

Her pretty eyes all the more mesmerizing

I closed my eyes and breathed in her breath

It gave me life

And I whispered back in a silly tone, "And pleasant nightmares"

I laughed and swore she laughed back

Off to dreamland, off I go

And I know

It feels all too like Mother to me

 

     It's been a while again since I typed anything up on here. But here you go, another poem. Just came up with it today because I was so bored. This poem is about someone who remembers their mother. It was supposed to depict memories of being tucked in at night. In the memory, the person is obviously sleepy and already in some sleepy-like trance, personifying night and making it his/her mother. This is how the person remembers that particular night. I don't know what made me think of it, even I think it's weird. But I felt like putting something up on my blog since I haven't done so in a while. So anyways, poem mania is what my blog is starting to look like. Oh well :-P