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Amber knew she wasn't alone but all she could see was a damp blackness. Her senses told her she was in a closed space, tall, but narrow. Somewhere beyond one of the walls, the one behind her, she could hear the faint sliding of felt on marble. Her bionic hearing was at last paying off!
The sound of sliding felt triggered panic fear traumatic childhood memories and she kicked out wildly with her bionic feet (not legs, that's a fairy tale). The door splintered. The chess pieces came to life around her. Friend or foe, she didn't know, but hoped to get a ride from the horsy one next square over the hill and through the woods - no, wait, that was another fairy tale. Why couldn't she seem to keep her mind off of them? Maybe it was that book the old woman had given her at the park on Saturday - what was her deal? She struggled to make sense of it all, closed her eyes and began feeling her way back to the home row. What was that hard tall piece that brushed her hip? Opening one eye she saw just what she wanted - a bishop - and how she wanted it. Feigning a sore bionic foot, she leaned heavily in the bishop's direction. She knew he had vows and parishioners, but they were just stinking toy pieces. Why couldn't he see that? When faced with the opportunity for a living, active relationship with her, he always checked her mate's coat at the door and pawned his watch. What a rook she thought with contempt and went to join Alice in the croquet game.
