En Passant

Each piece has a soul...1

You can tell by how they look at one another. 2

Sister said that chess pieces can't look at each other; they don't have eyes. But I knew they had something else...They were something more than little piece of wood that Cousin threw around all over the floor. 3

They didn't like being thrown across the floor. The king's crown chipped, which burned an anger in me. But Cousin looked up at me so naively, his eyes in a yearning to play...So I told him we should play a game. 4

"How do you play?" 5

I smiled. Another person to fall in love with the game; another person to be trapped in its grasp. "Its simple--all you have to do is try to trap the king and give him what is called 'check mate'." I picked up a pawn. "Each piece can move a certain way and only that way...This pawn can only move forward...that is, unless there's an En Passant, when it crosses over and takes the pawn next to it, but that doesn't really matter..." 6

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I had always hated those exceptions, such as En Passant. I knew them all by heart; I could recite them backwards and forwards from memory. But they rebelled against the normal rule--the normal weakness of the pawn. The pawn was weak; the queen was strong. Such was the way of life. Suhc was the way of the game. 8

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Next, I picked up a queen and began, "This one is far different..." And so I began to show him the way each piece moved. 10

He watched with wide eager eyes...eyes innocent to the complex strategies and openings such a simple game could weave. But I knew them, looking to my king and almost inwardly laughing, for I would never let my king fall into any harm.11

Each piece had his own dignity. I could see how each piece responded to my commands. My commands. Those words always gave me chills of happiness and pride, for I was the one who could lead my pieces. I had power. 12

I let him be white, for to the novice, being white gives an advantage. But I've grown beyond that point. He did what most novices do--push a random pawn forward. So I ordered my pawns around his. Queen's Indian position, I mumbled to myself. 13

Once the lowly pawns had moved, I sent forth the bishops through their windows, who arrogantly looked diagonally across the empty fields of black and white. IN response, Cousin threw forth a wild Knight, who hopped over a row of unsuspecting pawns, loyal yet clearly baffled by his master's strange moves. That was the way of the novice.14

Beside my loyal pawns I summoned powerful knights forth, who guarded the centre of the fields, which separated him from me. Since his moves were still foolish and meaningless, I suggested to the rook to create a castle for the most high king. In obedience, he folded my king in a castl'ing, the sturdy rook watching his side. The two were left in the corner of the board, as far away from the weak pawns and dirty knights. They, who were expected to do the killing off of my opponents foolish blunders, would be watched by the king and rook in pure amusement. 15

Now he sat there, bending over the board in concentration. He bit his small tongue in thought, turning to his mess of pieces. Then revelation flickered through his eyes. Clearly proud of his idea, he grabbed his queen by the crown in confidence, and thrust her across the board, capturing an open pawn. So I lost a man. But that was when the killing began. 16

Trade, trade, trade, the lines of soldiers dwindled smaller and smaller. Pawns, knights and bishops fell to the ground while the kings watched in safety. When each piece fell, a tiny voice seemed to cry out for just a moment, but then it was erased from the game. Each one had a soul. 17

It, however, hardly mattered now whether a pawn had a soul or not, for I was to win in moments. My men doubled his own, his king exposed with a frightful look. The player frowned ,his eyes seeing clear defeat. So I smiled. Another won game....18

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Two moves, and mate. I whispered the plan to my queen and bishop; they liked the idea very much. A game is a game, no matter the player, and to crush him with victory is always required. So I bid my bishop to cut him off. One move 'till mate...20

Or at least, that was how destiny was supposed to go.21

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A careless eye? Or fool's luck? So blind was I to an advantage that I forgot that a game is never won until its won? What was I thinking? Was I thinking? Or, ironically, was he actually thinking?23

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In a firm grasp, he took his pawn and danced around mine. In a blind moment, I cried, "That's cheating! You can only move it forward!"25

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But to my surprise, he just smiled and said, "Dear cousin, you said yourself that their is one exception--one time where the pawns can dance across the board. En Passant," and he took my last pawn. 27

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Was I blinded by shock and rage--that someone would dare take an advantage on my game? My game! I vented my rage to those below me, the bishop holding off the king's range, the queen who stood in lust for blood, the rook who aided the king. I sent the rook in a furried rush to check the king. They bid me not to, but I did not listen. They had no choice.29

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We saw the blunder at the same moment, but I could not recall what had already been done, and his queen feasted on the open rook. My king turned his head in disgust. My heart beat a mile a minute, a feeling I had never felt in a game before. A feeling of fear for the next move instead of eagerness to crush. A pain in the lungs for air to rush in, yet the air was still. A wonder if I would be stabbed in a moment. The fear of loss. 31

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In haste, I reached for my king. My precious king; he would be safe at all costs! I bid him forward, but he would not go, blocked off by white's rook. I bid him to the side, and he was cut off once more. I tried every square before him, and yet he would not move. Then Cousin whispered those words I never imagined hearing from anyone but myself, "Checkmate," 33

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That moment, each soul shattered on the board, and the pieces fell in lifelessness, still, cold, dark, dead. I cried out to my long dead king and my killed queen, to the remaining of my men, yet they were silent. I looked up to my opponent and whispered the customary, "Good game,"35

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Instead of throwing the pieces around the floor as he had done before, he gently carried each to the crude wooden box I held them in. The lowly pawn and the King were held in the same hand. And once the game was over, the king and the pawn were put back in the same box. The same box, proud and pauper. Perhaps it no longer mattered, since their souls were shattered. 37

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But to me, it still seemed to be a sort of En Passant, a defiance against the natural order. The experienced crushed the novice. That was the natural order. The King and queen ruled over the pawn, and kept their distance from the pawn's menial work. That too was natural order. Yet in a moment's flash, both orders were broken into myths. The En Passant had won.39

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