Poor Chess, and Miscellanea

By Stewart Berg

Listing of contents along with short summaries:

"Poor Chess" -- A story of an Idealic King, including a Realand Queen and the general mismanagement of circumstance

"The Nature of Nurture; or, The Nurture of Nature"-- A story of a place with two disparate, nondivergent paths

"The Evergreen Crystal Fountains" -- A story of the land beside the Big Rock Candy Mountains

"Puttin' on the Prole" -- A story of those who, while behaving one way, wish to be regarded in another

"An Essay on Experts" -- An essay in prose that addresses the enervation of expertise

"The House that Griffey Built" -- An essay in prose that reveals a realization that might have wider implication

"The Light Who Said 'Me!'" -- A story of a bulb certain of self, surroundings, and, most of all, you

"Bovie to Kennie to Plath" -- An essay in verse that addresses development as demonstrated by Emma Bovary, Carol Kennicut, and Silvia Plath

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stewart Berg
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781005526474

Stewart Berg

Stewart Berg is a 2014 graduate of Pacific Lutheran University. He lives in Austin, Texas.

Book preview

POOR CHESS, AND MISCELLANIA

By Stewart Berg

Published by Falling Marbles Press

Copyright Stewart Berg 2023

Smashwords Edition

Contents

Poor Chess

Part II

Part III

The Nature of Nurture; or, The Nurture of Nature

The Evergreen Crystal Fountains

Puttin’ On The Prole

An Essay On Experts

The House That Griffey Built

The Light Who Said Me!

Bovie to Kennie to Plath

POOR CHESS; or, A FEW DAYS IN THE LIFE OF AN IDEALIC KING

PART I: The Day of the Ninety-Seventh Conquestorial March

CHAPTER I

For a moment, the sun was in Archibald Wisenhunt’s eyes; however, the young King of Idealia, seventh of his name, quickly turned aside his head. Thus, in mock evaluation of his hundred-strong right flank, Archibald escaped the ire of the brightness.

A Palatial who stood guarding the King, misinterpreting the movement of his sovereign, took a step forward from the semicircle that was formed behind Archibald, and he made brave to ask whether the gesture in question was intended to open the proceedings.

Shall we order the March, Our Height? he asked.

I am merely in evaluation, Archibald quickly replied, and he made sure to speak in the royal manner of not deigning to move one’s head.

With a deep bow, the Palatial returned to his place. The collection of individuals, which numbered Archibald and his nine guards, stood on a small, regal platform that was elevated off the ground by roughly the height of the average man, and such afforded those on stage with a slight overview of the cascading rows of soldiers who, for that day, were allowed to number themselves among the Holy Vanguard.

Unwilling to tempt any more turnings of his head, even considering the fact that the sun was now recovered by a bank of clouds, Archibald began to, indeed, evaluate the right flank of soldiers that he faced. At first thought, upon seeing the loose and revelous collection, the young King condemned his armed servants in a few under-breath words; however, upon second thought, which included reflection, the young King reminded himself that the day’s holiday was, after all, intended for them, and the hundred that he saw, like the other two hundred who comprised the total of that day’s ceremonial army, had been handpicked from all corners of Idealia due to their good looks whilst enarmoured, not their professionalism.

As Archibald contemplated, down the narrow lane between right flank and center column walked a man who, by air alone, seemed himself onstage. Known to all, this man was Arcommander Winifred Faulkyn, leader of all non-Palatial forces in Idealia, and he had been elected to fulfill the day’s most important role, which was, of course, that of the Conqueror himself; accordingly, the man was without his usual arms, and he, instead, wielded the official replica of the famous Sword of Cities, which was commonly called the All-Sword.

Archibald stepped forward on his stage in order to better receive the approach of the Arcommander; further, the sight of the latter so competently filling the role of Conqueror made the former conscious of the fact that, every moment, his own appearance provided appearances of King. Flanking the Arcommander were the other two individuals who had been chosen as personages for the holiday, though only one of the two was, like Faulkyn, a Idealic power player in his own right. These other positions were, of course, that of Conqueror’s Deputy, which was on this day filled by Leopold Sebastian, who currently served in the Privy Council position of Aportfolio, and that of Conqueror’s Uncle, which was on this day filled by an individual of little distinction.

We are ready, Faulkyn said aloud to his young King, and then he turned about in order to take in all those under his ceremonial charge.

Under the evaluation of the man who was both their Arcommander as well as day’s Conqueror, the three hundred began to ready themselves, and a cloud of clamor quickly arose as many limbs did many things. Archibald, meanwhile, spoke an affirmative that went unheard, and then he gave a nod that went unseen.

Conquerors! Faulkyn called out. Let us March!

A loud cry went up from the three hundred, and many banged their shields, as well; further, the first fringes of crowd were not far away, and their multitude, upon hearing the first movements of procession, raised their voices in expectation. With a flourish of the All-Sword, Faulkyn started back down the way that he had come, flanked by the two who had followed, and to look at the Arcommander’s back, as those onstage now could, was to be unable to distinguish the man from the Conqueror himself, though separated in time by so many years. Archibald, meanwhile, quickly departed the stage via its back stairs, and the entire structure was then deconstructed by a team under the direction of a Palatial.

•

Due to the length of the walk, Archibald was the last of the leading components to reach his place in the parade, which was, of course, the position of second-most prominence, beside Faulkyn, who, in the guise of the Conqueror, was the leader of the train as well as the center of the whole holiday. Once monarch was arrived, the parade was able to start, and like the gigantic thing that it was, the train lumbered forward slowly, requiring several hundred yards of intermittent movement before settling into proper parade pace.

Naturally, the holiday procession was noisy; in fact, Idealia’s general commitment to peace and quiet made the day of the Conquestorial March, by way of being outlet, all the louder and more rambunctious. From either side of the street, acclaim poured upon those between, and many who were part of this year’s replica of the Holy Vanguard returned the cheers, occasionally leaving their positions in order to better mingle in the celebration. Such deserters of post were, of course, chided by their superiors; however, these superiors, being themselves part of the parade, did their duty laxly, which was greatly appreciated by all involved, and in some instances, the act of chiding was even used as a way of joining.

As King, Archibald did not stoop to such familiarity with his surroundings, though he did, as was expected of him, provide an unending series of handwaves to those massed upon either side of the road. In truth, this lessened outreach, due to the source, had a far greater effect, and Idealia’s King felt quite proud of the fact that the masses of onlookers, even while hugging a member of the parade, had their eyes on him.

Before long, the parade made its first turn, which placed the procession on the main thoroughfare that would lead it to the city of Ideal, the capital of Idealia. The Conquestorial March proper now began, and its route would take the parade into the Capital, through its three stops, and then finally to the very heart of Idealia itself. With every step, the crowds on either side grew in size, and Archibald felt similarly increasing his closeness to his people.

So far, though the March was only just begun, Archibald had conducted himself as well as could have been expected of such a young King in such a situation, and any eye looking to Idealia’s Height with ill will was, thus far, disappointed. Suddenly, however, a slight disturbance upset Archibald entirely, and the nature of the suddenness plunged him into deep thought, which did, of course, slightly upset the positive assessment of surrounding eyes; for to appear as lost in thought was, after all, regarded as rather unbecoming an