A Projection On Paper story revision by Zachary Storch

My father taught me the way of the blade. He said the most important thing to remember was why he taught me. He taught me so I would learn when to use it. He started with wooden sticks that he threw into the air. He showed me how he cut them such that they would split into eight pieces before landing onto the ground. I cut them once only.

The next day my father took me out to the river. He placed his blade into the stream and showed me how his blade cut the water and any leaf or twig that touched the edge of his weapon. I asked him why he did this, and he said it was to show the power and danger of the sword. We slashed at flying sticks again the next day. I cut one twice.

Eventually he taught me to hunt. There were wolves outside of town. I asked him what the wolves had done. He told me that they had pillaged chickens and grain. I took that as moral and a reason to use a sword. Thieves deserved the sword. We exterminated them.

In time it was sticks again. I cut one four times, but it was only a fluke. The rest I could only cut three. Father cut them all eight.

He sparred with me, too. He decided to use live blades. With restraint and precision, he scraped my arm and it bled badly. Father stopped then. When he lowered his blade I cut him back. I expected him to be angry, but he applauded me.

I grew older, and my skill had improved. Six times I cut the sticks. Father only cut them five. He still taught me, though now I knew I was the stronger. I would always learn from him.

Bandits attacked and pillaged town. I decided to go to their camp. Father came with me. I found six bandits, and I cut them all down. Then we encountered a woman. I raised my sword. She held her hands up and cried for me to stop. Father urged me the same, claimed she was innocent, that she was just one of their wives. She drew a small dagger from her belt as he talked. I turned my blade upon my father. I cut him down, then swung back at the woman and she fell with him.

I returned home.

Author’s Note: A revision of Pedagogy. I think this story has potential, but it’s still a little rough. It’s quite a bit better now like this.

A Projection On Paper story/proof I need more sleep/pretty terrible short-short story by Zachary Storch

Reptiles, (iguanas, to be more specific), are the only animal besides humans to play chess. I know this may seem hard to believe given their lack of thumbs and cognitive reasoning skills, but there are some regular reptilian Bobby Fisher’s. A more scaly chess master would not have lost to Deep Blue, and could most certainly best the Turk. It’s quite simple and all demonstrated by the events I saw during an afternoon three months ago. I was in the Caribbean. After finishing a round of golf and consuming extremely overpriced drinks at a local bar, I began the trek back to my hotel. On the way, I came across not one, but two of the aforementioned rock-climbing-quick-sprinting-cold-blooded creatures.

Logically, I set out to capture them.

The reptiles were fast. I dived at one of the two, but all I grabbed were painfully hot pebbles. They ran off, and I pursued. Off into the prickly bushes the four-legged demons ran, seeking to thwart my advance. I refused to give up, not so easily or quickly, even if I was in shorts. I grit my teeth and stomped through the needles, through the bladed foliage. At that my reptilian adversaries knew I had them in a tight spot. We were back on the golf course. One made for an artificially planted tree, and the other took a break towards the warm safety of a nearby sand-trap. Splitting up was a powerful move. I did what I had to. First, I ran and shook the tree with the climbing beast, vigorously so. That sent him tumbling down and sprinting to join his friend, to seek safety in the sand. I rushed over and kicked my foot through the dirt, giving them a start again. Back through the prickly bushes they went. Now, I was certain I had them on the run, that soon they would tire out. I went back through the brush again, legs bleeding, but I pushed onwards. The critters went into the road and still I followed, sure of my victory, when I was struck by a car.

For you see, the villainous masterminds had planned it all along. They may not have thumbs, but an iguana can play the world like a chess game.