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View Full Version : The Magician. (2,500 words)



Cardboardzen
May 3rd, 2015, 03:39 PM
When he comes. He comes a sitting atop of a horse. His feet dangle off one side. He is tall, with pin stripe pants and a heavy top hat. He spins his cane of gold between his fingers. His eyes are an invented color; he files his fingernails and whistles a tune that turns everyoneís head that hears it. They began to gather around him and his horse; they follow him until he orders the horse to stop. He jumps down off his horse and spins his cane. He dances and jumps in the air, clicking his heels. He taps the horse with his cane. The horse drops dead. This man, whom they call the magician, jumps atop the horse and he smiles and swoons. He clicks his feet with his cane.

Come, come. He says. Closer and let me tell you a tale. I have mysteries to sell. Yes, yes. For you and you and you. He laughs. It is wondrous laugh. He jumps and clicks his heels together. People crowd around him. Children peek from between their parents legs. The magician spins his cane and takes off his top hat. He reaches inside, pulls out a handful of candy and throws it into the crowd. The children pluck up the candy and stuff it into their mouths. They smile. Their parents stare off as if hypnotized.

The magician waves his cane around and around. He dances, spins, clicks his heels. The children giggle with mouthfuls of candy. One child begins to vomit. The magician stops. He raises his cane and twirls it at the crowd. They are transfixed, they follow the canes movements. A storm gathers behind them on the far horizon. Crows swirl up from the forest; flying into the clouds. A shriek of thunder spills out. It sounds like laughter. The men start to look at one another. They notice that some of them look different than themselves. They decide that they hate these men. When it seems as if the magician favors these men of different color, they grow bitter and resentful. For they desire nothing but the magicians love and attention. They begin to take out clubs, knives, and one pulls out a revolver.
Other men begin to look at their skin and notice the difference. A voice comes into their heads. It is the voice of the magician.
It says:
Look at those weak fools! You are so much stronger. How come he gets to have so much more than you? Look at his beautiful wife, his beautiful children, even his house is bigger. Why should that man have more? You should slice his throat, take his wife, and kill her children, burn his house.

The man grinds his teeth and tongue until blood starts foaming from his mouth. These men of color begin to take out clubs, knives, and one pulls out a revolver.
The magician crouches with his arms resting on his knees. He watches with amusement as the men start to shove one another. A woman in the far back rips another womanís clothes. The women look at each other with faces red with hate and jealousy.

Now! Yes, yes.
The magician speaks in a voice that makes the crowd stand still.
Come around all. I have surprises for you and you and you. I am the magician. Watch me weave spells from my tongue and magic influence from my cane. You are different now. Not the same. So says the magician. That is no longer your brother but your enemy and enemies are not human so thus they must perish in the flames. Look at us! We are the widowers of conscience, drunk on champagne, now gather the children and let us purify them with pain!

The magician clicks his heels, spins his cane, and dances.

The crowd erupts into a fire of applause. They chant in unison with a poisoned purpose. Some of the men stand still with visions of blood, lambs with no head, and crows being eaten by children with black eyes.

The magician brings the children to a stage. He lines them up while dancing and clicking his heels and spinning his cane. He puts a noose around each of their necks. The childrenís faces are placid like statues. No emotion is seen in their eyes. The magician walks to each child, one by one, slapping them with his cane; as he does this they fall and snap their necks. The crowd applauses more and more violently as each child is hanged. A dark, unnatural wind blows up a strange mist of purples and greys. When the magician reaches the last child, he turns towards the crowd with a smile, he twirls his heavy top hat in the air and it falls perfectly on his head. He bows again and as he does he so slightly taps the child behind him with his cane. The child falls and snaps his neck. The crowd turns into a fervor of violence and applause.

The magician walks to center stage. He crouches and puts his finger to his mouth as if telling the crowd to be silent. The crowd immediately goes quiet. The sound is maddening. Behind the magician the children swing back and forth. Crows eat and peck at their faces, maggots swarm on their feet. The children still blink, breathe, they are dead but remain animated. This is the magicians trick.

The magician points his cane into the crowd. He speaks in a wicked tone.
Ah. There is still much left. For you and you and you. There is a traitor among us!
When he says this, the crowd cries out. They look at one other in a panic, trying to spy this traitor. One man walks up behind another and slices his throat.

The magician stands and raises his hand for the audience to be quiet.
You are all traitors! Yes, yes! All of you. Blood and terror is your sentence. Kill each other, eat their hearts, murder their women, for you are all traitors and must perish!
The audience howls with insanity. Men start pushing one another. A gun shot rings out. Men stab one another in the eyes and throats. Women claw each otherís faces. A man walks about with his intestines hanging out of his stomach. He screams like an animal and bites the face of a woman. The blood is so thick and heavy in the air, many wild beasts from the forest run to join in the massacre.

The magician sits down and crosses his legs in a calm manner. He twirls his cane, he files his fingernails, completely ignoring the screams of men and woman and beast as they rip each other apart. Every now and again the magician looks up with a curiosity. He points his cane at a man, the manís eyes roll into his head and falls dead. The magician laughs and clicks his heels with his cane. He is very amused.

Soon all is quiet. The magician looks up. There are piles of bodies. Pools of blood run heavy into the dirt. He scans the field and when he can find no one alive, he whistles, spins his cane, clicks his heels, and taps his horse with his cane. The horse rises up and the magician jumps atop of it. But through the mist and blood and dead bodies, a young woman staggers out, her hands and face are caked with dried blood, her shirt is torn revealing one of her breast. The magician sees her and jumps from his horse. He looks at her annoyed. He approaches her and points his cane at her breast.

You are indecent. Cover yourself, woman.

Please sir, she says in a frighten voice, I want to live. Where are my children? My god! She weeps. What have we done?

The magician goes to tap her with his cane but she moves out the way. The magician eyes her suspiciously. What is this foolery, he demands, this trickery. Have I not given you everything you wanted? You asked for something to drink, so I gave you whiskey. You asked for food, so I gave you candy. You asked for love, I gave you orgasms. You asked for war, and I gave you BLOOD. You stupid animals have no appreciation for anything, do you? You only demand and when you are given what you desired, you cry like children. Are you not happy? This is my gift to you, woman. He spreads his arms out and points to all the dead and blood. Why, he asks, are you not happy?

What are you, she asks, are you the devil? I knew these women, I knew their children. My God, I knew them all as neighbors and friends. You, she points feverishly, you gave us nothing but promises and death.
She starts to cry.

The magician spins his cane, looks at his fingernails with a disinterested and bored look. He begins to laugh. The laugh is manic and scares the woman. She begins to back away but the magician grabs her and pulls her towards him.

No, no.

I am a devil but not the devil. Would you like to know what the devil is? I will tell you. The devil is the wickedness of mankind. Oh yes, yes. It is the philosopherís creation to explain the horror of mankind. A creation of clever men to explain the dark souls of man, you see, civilization is the great contradiction of man. I am also a part of that creation. Look into my mouth and see the souls of men.

The magician opens his mouth and darkness spills out. The woman screams and tries to run but the magician grabs her, pulls her to him, and laughs.
You judge me, he smiles, you think Iím evil and a monster but it is you that murder. Look at your hands, wicked woman. There is blood on them. Now, look at mine.

The magician raises his hands. They are majestic, clean, they look as they have never seen a scratch or cut or freckle or any harm. They are the cleanest and most beautiful hands she has ever seen. She looks down at her own hands. They are smeared in blood, many of her fingers are cut, and two of her nails are chipped with pieces of someoneís skin. When she sees this she puts her hands to her face and weeps violently. The tears and blood merge together as if she is crying blood. Milk drips from her exposed breast. It mixes in with the blood on her body.

Yes, yes.
The magician smiles.
Would you like to know whose blood that is? I can tell you, for I know all things. That is the blood of your children. Stop that now. Why do you cry? You painted them with patriotic feathers and sent them to murder and be murdered and you deceived yourself by saying it was bravery and courage. I tell you this, wicked woman, any fool can die. That is not brave. To live, now that is courage and bravery! Do you know what this is?

He pulls out a piece of fabric with a letter on it from his pocket. The woman looks at it. Her face is covered in thick blood. She nods. Yes, she says, that is the emblem of our village.

Yes, wicked woman, it is a symbol. This is power. Do you know what separates you from the beast? The ability to speak these symbols. Symbols have power. You are the only species in this world that can speak and pronounce symbols. Bah! You think owning to your mortality is what makes you different? Even a clever beast can look at the stars and contemplate some form of awareness. No, no. Itís the ability to speak words that can make a man love, kill, hate. This symbol right here, in my hand. This, this! Has more power than anything. A man will kill his wife and eat his children for this silly piece of fabric. Tell me, wicked woman, what do you desire? Be quick. Be faithful. For I can see through all menís hearts.

Please sir, the woman says, I want to live and see my children.

That is a contradiction. Your children are dead.

Please, the woman weeps, I want to live.

Yes, yes. The magician says while he approaches her. He strokes her hair. You will live, he says while he puts his hands around her throat. His fingers trace her neck and jaw. He removes some of the tears and blood from her face. Neither the blood nor tears leave any stain or mark on his fingers.
You are very kind, she says.
The magician presses his fingers into her throat, he starts to squeeze, choking her. She screams, slaps at his face and chest. He brings his face closer to hers and when she looks into his eyes - she is filled with horror - for he is not human. He has the face of a worm. He is the aberration of mankind, the abyss that unwinds in the bellies of madmen. He smiles. His breath smells of rotting corpses. He squeezes her throat tighter.

Yes, yes. He says. You will live, but not on your terms Ö on MINE!
As he says this, he snaps the womanís neck and throws her to the ground. Her hand falls on his shoe. The magician jumps out of the way and screams. He wipes his shoe with his coat sleeve.
Oh, how I hate when they touch me, he shutters.
He dusts himself off. He spins his cane in the air and catches it from behind his back. He spins and dances and clicks his heels.

The magician climbs back on his horse. His feet dangle on one side.
Onward! We have a celebration to attend to.
The magician whistles. He files his fingernails. They turn into colors of blues and reds, yellows and purples. Outside the town, a boy runs out from the woods. He carries two fish and a fishing rod. The magician orders the horse to halt.

What are you into boy? The magician asks.

Nothing mister. Heading back home. I caught a few beauties. See Ďem?
The boy holds up his fish. One is missing its head.

The magician jumps off his horse. He spins his cane and clicks his heels.
Are you superstitious, boy?
What does that mean?

The magician laughs.
The boy staggers back a bit. The laugh frightens him.
The magician licks his lips. He offers the boy his hand.
Your parents are dead, your village is in ruin, but come with me and I shall show you how to whistle.

The boy hesitates and looks to the direction of his home.
The magician takes his fish and throws them into the woods with a disgusted look on his face. He grabs the boys fishing pole and snaps it in half. He grabs the boy and places him on the horse. He jumps on, sitting next to him, and orders the horse to move.
He teaches the boy his tune. They whistle together. Once they get into the next town the boy jumps atop of the horse. He spins, clicks his heels, and twirls his cane. The magician sits atop of him. He moves the boy with strings. He whispers and everything he whispers the boy repeats.

Yes, yes. Gather around. I have mysterious to sell. I have a surprise for you and you and you Ö

The boy looks up at the magician.
The magician smiles and nods. A black fog pours out of the magicianís eyes and mouth.

I donít want to murder them, Mister.
Do as youíre told, boy.
I donít want to hurt anyone.
The magician whistles. The boy starts to hum this tune. It is a pleasant tune to the boy. It pleases him. He dances, spins his cane, and clicks his heels.
Now, he proclaims to the growing crowd of people, gather your children and let us dance in the flames!

Bevo
May 4th, 2015, 12:20 PM
That was a great read but I would include mature content in the title as per rules.

I found the imagery to be really strong, felt like I was in the story at times.
The violence against children was unexpected and I'm not sure it really advanced the story.

Great job overall!