Calming Song (Run, Run, Run) By Benjamin W. Folgers

Have you ever walked on one of those bike paths in the suburbs? Sometimes they start in the just-beginning-to-develop areas in the town. They lead you through that area and continue on through the brush. I remember that when I was a kid, my mom let me go anywhere alone, to the dismay of my Dad and the other neighborhood mothers who thought it was too dangerous. I loved to walk or ride my bike through those areas. The bulldozers and other construction vehicles put me in awe with their gigantic yellow hides. And I loved that smell. You know the one that I'm talking about. The smell of the dry dirt that was overturned earlier in the day and you know if you search enough there will be those dirt clods that kids love to squish. To me that smell epitomizes my childhood because it reminds me of an era of freedom, freedom which seems lost in today’s society. It was a freedom from worry. Parents these days don't let their kids roam around because they have this idea that the entire population is made up of rapists and kidnappers and murderers.
My favorite area around those paths was the area set between two subdivisions or in a forest preserve, where the electrical wires lay, raised by those metal towers. I remember walking on that black asphalt and listening to the steady hum of the electricity zapping through those wires. That sound always calmed me. Maybe it was because that steady, hypnotizing sound reminded me of the times my mom would hum and sing me to sleep. She would sit at the side of my bed and run her fingers through my hair and sing to me. Softly, gently, smoothly.
I would get off of the path and lay in the grass surrounding those tall towers, listening to the buzzing electricity, and my eyes would slowly start to close. And then I would fall asleep and wake up to the sound of crickets chirping, the sun setting while casting its beautiful dusk colors on the sky and land. Then that one fear that all children have would make its appearance; the fear of the dark. I would get up from my place and run, saying to myself, run run run. If you’re fast enough, It can't catch you, and I would. I would run because I knew that, back at my house, my mom would be waiting for me and I could run into her arms and she would sing. And I knew then that everything would be all right.
Nowadays I still go for those walks if I have the chance, which isn't often because I hardly ever come home from school. Those sounds still calm me and I still lie down sometimes and rest my legs. But now, now I don't go running when the dark comes. Usually I enjoy it. But there are sometimes when I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach. That feeling I used to get when I was younger, and sometimes, in the back of my mind, I can hear my Childhood yelling at me, run run run!
And I do, for old time's sake.

Bluffing Kings by Isaiah Smalley

Click
The clock came to life the small hand eagerly lurching forward. Roderick surveyed the chess board glancing from piece to piece with confidence. He slid his king forward a space and hit the timer. Hushed whispers snaked through the crowded auditorium, like the utterances of a polite ghost.
The two boys neither older than sixteen sat at a small table facing one another. Roderick wore a fading suit, a crooked bow-tie and the smugness of an asshole. Jeremiah on the other hand looked the part of the pristine regional champion. Immaculately groomed, adequately poised, and already fraying at the edges. Roderick began tapping, watching his opponent squirm.
Tap Tap Tap
Jeremiah instinctively hit his clock, but he stared at Roderick not the board. The disdain in his eyes spoke for him. Roderick could smell blood in the water; he knew Jeremiah’s confusion would quickly become doubt and eventually anxiety. Jeremiah looked back to the board, his eyes shifting rapidly, trying to understand the move. He clasped a rook hesitantly; he'd touched the piece now he had to move it.
Tap Tap Tap
Roderick remained silent grinning at the rook. Jeremiah’s face shifting into full-on panic as his gaze fell on the board scouring the pieces, looking for anything, the seeds of fear flowering beautifully in his mind. He glanced involuntarily toward the crowd and tugged at his tie, attempting to gain some sort of courage. When Jeremiah moved his piece Roderick quickly moved his queen from her hiding spot and slid her next to the king. Jeremiah hit his clock, still cautious, watching the queen. He moved his rook again. "Check." His voice lacked confidence.
Tap Tap Tap
Roderick swiftly took Jeremiah's rook with a knight and hit the timer. Jeremiah’s hand moved to his timer, instinct fighting the paralysis of shock. Seconds ticked away as he tried to recover, he'd been too preoccupied by the king and queen to notice and he paid for it.
As the game progressed Roderick watched Jeremiah fall into his trap. His moves became more erratic, his frustration palpable and because of it he lost piece after piece, until finally. "Checkmate." Roderick hit his timer for the final time and stared across the board.
"H-How the hell did you do that?" Jeremiah uttered in a broken tone.
"I came prepared."
"What?”
"I knew I’d lose to you in chess, so I decided to gamble.”
“What the hell are you-.”
“I convinced you, you would lose.”
“That doesn’t-,”
“You lost the moment you confined the game to the pieces.” Roderick said as he rose from his chair.