Michael Kras
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DisbeliefDisbelief!
by Michael Kras
Not once did I ever think I could believe again. Not once did it even cross my mind that the impossible could indeed be possible. I knew it was all one big hoax… a sham… a con.
Now I know better.
I saw him on the streets. He was a street peddler. A salesman. I slowly approached him, curious of what he was hocking. He began to show me some magic. MAGIC. Or so I thought at the time. After his amazing display of flourishes and polished sleight of hand, I pulled out some coins and handed them to the man, who promised to teach me the wondrous magic behind all of it, and that I too could someday possess these powers. Coins in clenched fist, the man lowered his mouth next to my ear, and told me what I paid for.
“It’s all fake”, he said sharply, “Never believe anything other than that. It’s pure hand skills… not magic!”
These words stung me worse than his sour breath. I silently walked away, feeling lower than ever before.
It was years afterwards that I attended my first live magic show. I sat in my seat in sheer boredom, when all of a sudden I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I turned to find the magician standing behind me, staring at me deeply. In the darkness of the theatre, his eyes appeared to be like small black holes, slowly eating my soul away. Chills came over me but I managed to remain composed. If anybody knew what had done before the show I'd surely be arrested, but I've worked hard on keeping myself normal and collected. I'm confident he didn't notice my bloodshot eyes and rather blank expression as he began to speak. He asked me to volunteer for this next “incredible feat of rare conjuring”. I naturally refused.
However, the man was not prepared to give up, and he insisted I come up to the stage with him. Being a good sport, I accompanied him on the stage and obeyed his instructions.
“This wardrobe possesses amazing abilities. Please step inside, my good fellow!”
I entered the cabinet, feeling a light breeze as the two wooden doors closed before me. I stood afterwards, hearing the muffled sound of the performer’s voice and faint gasps through the thick cabinet doors. Beginning to feel discomfort, I attempted to open the doors. They were locked, and I became frightened. A very long time passed by, and not one hint of light from the lamps at the head of the stage was visible. I violently began to shake the cabinet, hoping the magician would let me out.
Nothing. I shook the cabinet more vigorously, and to my surprise, the cabinet tipped over and the side panel of the cabinet smashed open. Upon exiting the cabinet, I discovered the show was long over… in fact, the lamps were put out and there was no one to be found. Confused, I stumbled through the theatre, trying to find an exit.
“So, you don’t believe in magic”, a loud voice boomed from backstage. I jumped, startled. Slowly, a dark figure emerged from behind the old red curtain and approached me. Snapping his fingers, he turned on the gas lamps. I sat there, astonished. “That was just a little trick”, he said. “This man, however, is unbelievably real”. With those words, the magician reached into the air and produced a silver ticket. Handing the ticket to me, he told me not to miss the show for anything. I assured him I wouldn’t as I ran out the back doors and out into the streets.
The next evening, I attended the show. Taking my seat, I noticed only a miniscule audience scattered throughout the theatre. The light dimmed, and a lanky man in a tattered tuxedo took center stage. He addressed himself as Tarlin, and I intently watch Tarlin, remembering the other magician’s words. Needless to say, the performance was less than amusing. I caught every secret move, every sleight, every hidden compartment, EVERYTHING.
Then, he wheeled a large pot filled with dirt onto the stage. He silently removed a watering can from underneath the table, and poured the water onto the dirt. “You are about to witness the miracle of growth like never before!” he said with an odd tone of voice.
Waiting silently for mere seconds, the audience witnessed a small unidentifiable object emerging from the dirt. It quickly grew into a full bush, complete with genuine leaves, and afterwards sprouted vibrant red roses. The small audience somehow conjured up thunderous applause, and I sat still in my seat, hoping that finally the show would take a turn for the better from that moment on.
Tarlin briefly left the stage and returned with a large cloth. He invited a young woman out of the audience to help him, and draped the sheet over her erect body. My attention became genuinely full when Tarlin also revealed a large silver sword, and placed the tip of the blade gently against the top of her head. He then thrust the sword downwards, accompanied by the shrill screams coming from underneath the sheet. The audience went into a panicked frenzy, some running from the theatre entirely. Blood was rapidly pouring onto the polished stage and staining the white sheet. I abruptly leapt onto the stage, in hopes to save the woman from her certain death.
However, whisking the cloth off of the solid figure of a woman, I discovered her body was completely gone. Gone! Nowhere in sight at all. In the midst of rage and confusion, I grabbed Tarlin and threw him to the ground. Holding him at sword point, I dryly asked Tarlin where the woman was. “It’s magic”, he replied, and with those words I thrust the sword into Tarlin’s bare skull.
Now you can see why I believe in magic again, because as I sit here in my cold cell, awaiting my execution, I have nothing else to believe in. I still don't know why I reacted in such a way... special stuff can make you do special things I suppose. The special stuff isn't allowed in prison anyway, so at least I'm clean now. And as I sit here and practice my polished sleight of hand, I can’t help but wonder if what Tarlin said really was true. Maybe it WAS magic. Maybe the woman is still alive and well. Of course, there is no way to know for sure now. But I can’t help but wonder.
The End
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