I misplayed the Caro-Kann Defense when I was nine. Father fed me only bread for three days.

Chess is everything, everything is chess. Everyone moves in patterns. A boy will never lose if he knows the patterns. A boy must only focus.

A boy faces nine pawns, a bishop, and a knight, all neatly arranged in black cloth chairs around a white table to which the judge sent us. The others all say guilty for now. There are two windows through which they uneasily glance for escape. A boy does not. A boy focuses.

“Blood is sensational. It is memorable. But when one views blood dispassionately it does not prove guilt,” I say.

The bishop holds forth with enmity not evident three hours before; his position is exposed. “Fine! Blood by itself proves nothing. But that man showed his character,” he says. “His poor girlfriend, don’t forget, found a flash drive full of violent, degrading pornography. Disgusting pornography.”

“And they fought about it,” nods pawn f2, but I’m observing pawn a2, whose eyes look down at the mention of degrading pornography.

“Many people watch many kinds of pornography,” I reply, “and your personal repugnance for it gives you no right to condemn a man. Or a woman, for that matter.” Nearly imperceptible gratitude softens the features of pawn a2. The athletic woman likes it rough.

A boy focuses.

“He punched the wall!” the bishop thunders. “She confronted him about—I’ll say it again—disgusting pornography, and he put a hole in the drywall. He’s a vicious, angry killer.”

His hold loosens with his temper. Mine remains firm and even as a tower wall. “That was the day before, and are we also to condemn anyone who has ever punched a wall?” Pawn f2 considers. “If you’re determined to lock up or execute every person who has ever accessed an adult website or hit something inanimate, then you’ll find yourself in a very lonely society.”

“Literal blood on hands.” The bishop, obviously immune to irony, pounds the table to emphasize each word: “Blood. On. Hands.”

Rook takes bishop. “You admitted not two minutes ago that blood by itself proves nothing. You have no evidence of his guilt. You have only your personal dislike and easily explained blood. He found his girlfriend’s body. He held her. But it does not follow that he made her bleed. It’s just as possible that she went out that night for some sordid Tinder hookup with the wrong man.”

“That’s uncalled for.” The knight sallies forth from the back row, and a few adoring pawns watch him gallop by. “There is no reason to slander the poor woman by saying she was cheating.”

“Supposing is not slander.”

“Yes, it is,” the knight answers. “Lay off her.”

Into the Lasker Trap. An aggressive opponent attacks a deliberately weak position. A boy takes the unsuspecting knight in four moves.

“Very well,” I say. “She met a suffering and unstable friend but misspoke and pushed him over the edge. Or she met a cousin with a dissolving marriage who came on to her, and who took her sainted rejection badly. Or she met her brother, who has sat in the front row every day of this trial with eyes so dry they must burn. Did you not notice his unweeping face?”

“You’re just confusing everyone.” True. The pawns shift in their seats and flick their eyes between us. “It had to be him. The earrings which he bought her were ripped out post-mortem. Why would a brother or a cousin do that?”

“Yes,” I say, “her diamond earrings were gone, nowhere to be found. Certainly not in the pockets of the accused. But very tempting for a random hoodlum.”

He hesitates to think, while the dizzy pawns cannot. The bishop remains out of play, and the endgame becomes inevitable.

***

Afterward, the athletic pawn told me I had done a good thing.

I replay the game in my study that evening. It amused. Perhaps next time a boy will play the white position.

By now the pawns question how reasonable their doubt was, and whether they were wrong to press the bishop and the knight into a corner. They lack conviction. They lack information.

I take up the diamond earrings from their fellow keepsakes in the drawer. Atypical and perhaps risky to play in one’s own county, but she looked fetching in the mornings with her latte.

A boy must take an unprotected queen.

Death is a smile

across the face of one ready to face it.

Death is a champion

that saves a tortured body

or a tortured soul.

Death is the peace

that finds the devastation of war

and the emptiness of famine.

Death is a gift

when it is time to return HOME.

Dear Death

Why havent you come for me yet?

I lived my life, I did well, raised kids, helped people, accomplished all I wanted.

I'm ready to go, I have nothing else to do here, in this world.

Why are you making me wait for you?

Why make my grandkids spend their days by my hospital bed?

Why make the watch me in pain and sickness, instead of living for themselves.

I wish I could tell them to just go live, and let me wait to die.

But they won't listen to me, they'll only listen to you.

So please, won't you come and get me?

I'll be waiting.

Dear Death,

I don't even know where to start. I don't even have words to describe the effect you have. So sudden. So complete. So destructive. All at once you rob those left in your wake of a precious and invaluable presence in their lives. Though everyone effected by you can learn to live with you and your effects, there will always be something inside those that feel the sting of your presence that can never truly heal. You only know pain and destruction, theft, sin and anger.

I both wish I never had to meet you, and also am grateful for you, at the same time. You taught me so many things about myself that I never could have learned had I not met you in the way I did. I am stronger than you. As much pain as you cause, and as powerful as you seem, I am stronger and more powerful. That is always the case. Always was, always will be.

You teach all in your wake how to be strong, how to overcome, how to live, though you yourself are weak, defeated and dead.

Until we meet again,

Chandler

Thank you for being a kind and gentle host,

Receiving us into your merciful stillness.

You stop the pain and you end the trauma.

You welcome us when all is wasted here.

A quiet and peaceful passage you are,

To where ever our final place may be.

What comes before your sweet darkness falls

Is what delivers to us the sorrowful sting.

You are only there to catch us

As we move from here to there.

©2019 RosalinM

How might you be? I wonder what a life like yours would be like. Is it sad to make people die?

No, you must be used to it.

How else do you take us all into your stiff arms... and walk us away from all we ever knew...?

You took my mother slow, like you wanted to give her a chance... a chance she couldn't ever take.

My grandma you took fast, like you always wanted her to be yours.

You are sick, always a relief, always a something, always the end.

You are the enemy of, simply, life.

Sincerely

Evelyn.

Dear Death,

You are the literal worst. You have trapped many people in your heartless clutches. But I will not be fooled. You will not get me.

You took my friend. She was so full of life. She had a career path. She had so much opportunity to be something. And yet you decided to talk to her. You and her danced so many death threatening steps. Until one day, she believed you. Now she is nothing. But you will not get me.

You took my grandfather. He was so generous and kind. He always gave me something, even if it was just a pretty rock he found walking. He cared about me, my siblings, and my cousins. It absolutely crushed us when we found out he wasn't our real grandfather. But he continued to love us. Then your friend, Agedness, took him on a long walk. A walk straight to you. You took him away from me, Death! But you will never take me.

You took my dog. My closest and dearest friend. He loved me and was so loyal. I have never felt so loved by anyone else. He gave me peace about my future. He cuddled me when I was sad. Then you convinced him to walk across that busy intersection. You hurt me in so many ways, Death. Which is why I decided, you cannot have me.

What did you do to deserve me? Take away those I loved? That does not deserve a reward like me. You have lost your chance to get me.

From,

The girl who lives forever

Spread love. Hug the people you care about and make sure they know that you care and appreciate them. Make it known to your friends and family that you love them, because tomorrow is never promised. Family is my love of importance and without them, I would never know the importance of love.

Dear Death,

I have tried to visit three times now and you won’t answer the gate. I tried the pearly one up front and the gates in back that were on fire to no avail. You had to hear me screaming, “Please just let me in!” the last time I came around.

Evidently I am not welcome until my unknown scheduled appointment time.

So here I sit at this sad job trying to appear busy and sane. It is exhausting.

Obviously I am obsessed with the mystery that surrounds you yet you shut me out.

You are responsible for more than a few holes in my heart causing unimaginable pain.

If you won’t let me in then I beg you to let me go. Stop monopolizing all

my thoughts and bringing darkness to my soul. You are keeping me from Life

which should be cherished and enjoyed. I promise to stop visiting unannounced if you will allow me to appreciate the joy of Life until it is my time. Lovelove, Lizzle