Gemotions

I stared at the empty chessboard, the black pieces arranged in perfect formation. Professor Blackwood, my chess master, had disappeared without a word. He would always leave a note after our games, commenting on his mistakes. This time, nothing.

I sat down, my fingers tracing the familiar squares. The game was an extension of his mind, of his strategies. He wouldn’t have left an unfinished game.

I studied the board, searching for a hidden message, a clue, some indication of why he'd left. The quiet of the room was oppressive, filling with a sense that something was deeply amiss.