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The Great Pawn Hunter
Chess Tutorial

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Ah! sweet cemetary...loveliest roses of the field. Never the shame of flowers, plucked from the graves, in the name of perpetual care, shall lay abreast your doorstep. For you see, beautiful flowers will never send prospective buyers away from an advertised grave plot. But, the withered ones will. However, a poor meek grave digger didn't think it was right to throw withered flowers in the dump when they still had good roots...and so begins our story...

One day he gathered some withered flowers thrown from graves and especially from one grave of an old chess player he once knew and brought them home to his family. They became a beautiful rose garden.

Now, one night he had a dream. The grave digger was being chased by a gang he couldn't escape from. He moved from avenue to avenue falling over the cobblestones in a desperate plea to escape from the mysterious figures. They were closing in on him. He fell to the road scratching the ground in a feverous attempt to right himself with the backs of his hands and feet. The gang closed in above him. His heart was beating wildly. Never in his life did he feel such dread. There was no way out. It was the endgame. All the moves he had left, were bad ones. He was in "Zugzwang". He prayed to God. He shouted "God where are you?" and just as his doom was imminent he awoke!

He kicked the clothes off of his chest and looked around him. He was covered in sweat. The room was dark but with the light that shone from the clock he could see an outline.

Now, as is widely known, ghosts can be seen from twelve midnight to two o'clock in the morning. But, after two o'clock, they must go back to their resting place, not to appear outside of their grave till the following night. But it was only 1:57 am! He had three minutes left.

Slowly, this outline came out of the shadows and into the light. The grave digger studiously watched the figure's every move. As it came closer, he could see the dim light pass right through the figure's face. The face was that of an old man, wrinkled but strong of character. The spirit moved beside the bed and began to bend. The grave digger began to pray. But he did not pray for himself for the grave digger always thought of others. He prayed for God to give the spirit rest.

However, for this spirit there was no rest. He had come for two goals and he had already obtained one of them. For you see, the spirit was the old chess player he once knew. It was the spirit that gave him his nightmare and it was the spirit that saved him from it, and it was the spirit that caused him to pray...a guardian angel, a teacher, a friend.

As the grave digger prayed, the spirit peered over the table beside the Grave Digger's bed. On the table, was a lamp. Beside the lamp was a pawn. Beside the pawn was a chessboard. Beside the chessboard was a crucifix. Beside the crucifix the spirit found what he was looking for. For beside the crucifix was a beautiful red rose brought back to life...his rose. The spirit's eyes smiled. That rose was planted by his family in loving remembrance. The Spirit wanted it back and was prepared to fight for it. He beckoned to the Grave Digger with his hand to rise and play a game of chess. The Grave Digger got up and sat at the board, half believing the events before him. He motioned with his hand to set the chess clock, but, the clock set itself...for three minutes...and the game began: