The roaring applause of the crowd is music to my ears. The adoring screams of the fans who so adore the trick of the eye. Despite the knowledge that it is purely illusion, they will always come back for more.
The rabbit in my hat was in the cage under the black cloth. The doves that emerge from the smoke came from the rafters, set loose by my gorgeous assistant, and wife. Card tricks are especially easy.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the crowd, do you believe in magic?"
I call from the hidden crates in the center of my ring, my microphone causing a resounding echo, challenged only by the bellowing approval of the crowd.
“Then my darlings, you have come to the right place. For in this humble tent of mine, you will experience the wonderful illusion of a magician’s work!"
A thundering boom, and a smoke screen shields the eyes of the gasping audience as I jump into the ring. The lights dim, and the spotlight shines onto me. The applause and shouts are deafening.
“Thank you kindly. Your support is overwhelming, it brings tears to these old eyes."
I let out a sob, and bring a handkerchief to my face, and the crowd laughs as a yard of brightly colored fabric falls out of my sleeve.
“Oh my, what a mess I am today. Perhaps I should be a clown, instead of a magician yes?”
I take a handkerchief, one very specific, and rub it onto my face, wiping red lipstick and white face paint onto me.
A special trick taught to me by my wife, if you place the make up in a very special way, it will rub off onto your face perfectly, and the sounds made by those who watch tell me I’ve executed the trick perfectly.
“My darling husband, you seem to have turned to the very profession you mimic. Look at the make up on your face!"
My wife is dressed in a shimmering gold leotard, with a crimson hues, a black tulle shirt that flares out at her knees, knee high, golden stiletto sandals that compliment the outfit perfectly, and she is finished with a bedazzled make up that brings a look of fierceness to her that makes my stomach drop.
“Perhaps you are seeing my natural form, my love. You seem to have married a clown!”
“Nonsense!” She sends a slap across my face, with a spray of water mixed with a gentle soap mixture perfected over the ages to remove make up. “Take off that silly garb this instant!”
“As you say love.” With a simple flick of a towel and the face of a clown is gone, and the crowd roars. “Thank you, thank you. And applause for my lovely wife!” The crowd whistles and shouts, as my wife bows.
“My love, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like you to prepare for my next act, while I pick a lucky member of the audience.”
The crowd went absolutely wild, parents lifting their children, adults pushing each other, teens jumping and waving. The kind of chaos that puts money in my bulging pockets.
I waltz through the crowd, whistling a tune, smirking at the love and adoration of those screaming my name when a child catches my eyes.
A small boy, can’t be much older than about eight, hiding right outside of the tent. Judging by the rags on his body and the dirt on his face and hair, he can’t afford entry.
His eyes sparkle with the innocent joy of many when watching their passion before them. A feeling I find myself sympathizing with.
He sees me stare, and the spark of fire is snuffed out with fear and he turns to run.
“Little boy!” I call out to him and he stops. “Come here.” The crowd goes silent as he walks in. I see the higher class in my audience sneer in arrogance and disgust.
“I can explain..!” The boy started, but I placed a gloved finger over his chapped lips. I unhook the microphone from my jacked and speak in a whisper.
“Hush my boy. I see the passion in your eyes. Do you believe in magic?”
The fear melted away, and he nodded. “Yes sir, I do.”
“Then you will always be welcome at my show.” I unhook a pin from my coat, a star, and put it in his hands. “Use this, and you will always be allowed access to my circus. No matter where we are.”
The boy smiled from ear to ear, and I ruffled his hair as I stand, reattaching my microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen we have our volunteer! Please help me in welcoming this young boy into my ring!” A weak, hesitant applause met my words.
“Now, now, there is no room in my audience for bitter feelings. This child is my personal guest. Now I ask again, please assist me in welcoming him.” I clap loudly, and more people join.
“Better. Now my boy, if you would just follow me over to here, we will be showing our fans the art of levitation.”
I could see the boy shaking. Out of nerves, or excitement, I couldn’t tell.
My wife was long since ready, was already laying on the three stools we used, despite the illusion that there are only two.
Once the two visible are removed, and the audience is stunned, they never notice the hoop that is split down the middle pass over the body. The trick to this illusion, is balance and concentration.
“As you can see here, my lovely wife is laying on two stools,” the boy beside me shifted, I ignored it.
“I shall have my assistant here chant the spell to knock her unconscious, for in this trick, silence and concentration is key. After my wife is blissfully asleep, I shall remove the stools and have my assistant here crawl underneath her to prove there are no tricks. If you still don’t believe me, I shall run this hoop under her.”
I raise the hoop and spin it around my arm, unhooking the clasp, keeping it in one piece.
To keep authenticity, I do my research and I use genuine spells. We know they mean nothing, but the looks on the stunned faces of the audience makes learning the gibberish worth it.
“When you are ready my boy, chant the spell, ‘Satiatusque somno ponere, levitate,’ and my wife will fall into a death like slumber.”
The boy closed his dazzling green eyes, and held up a hand. “Satiatusque somno ponere. Levitate.” In a voice much too deep to belong to one of his age.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill went down my spine. I shuddered and let out a breath, struggling to regain my composure.
“In theory, she should be asleep. Allow me to test this now.” I snapped once, twice, three times above my wife’s face. She didn’t even flinch. She usually squints as signal that she is ready. The show must go on.
“Now I shall remove the stools, and we shall see if our spell has worked.” I begin to pull the first stool out from under her legs, and I toss it aside.
I go to the second under her head, and I begin to pull and the crowd lets out a gasp. I toss it away just the same and the crowd begins to applaud when she remains up.
I wave my hand under her, and the boy crawls under her head, and I notice his eyes travel toward her waist.
“Sir, you’ve forgotten the third stool.”
My blood went cold and the crowd went quiet. I smile, and laugh. “Why, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“There is a third stool under your wife, hidden by her skirt. How can we prove she is levitating if she’s on a stool?” The crowd began muttering and I grew hot under my suit.
“You don’t need to worry sir, I’ve cast the spell on her, she can’t fall.”
The innocence of youth. I couldn’t disappoint my fans. I wiped the sweat from my brow and took the stool from under her waist, preparing for the worst.
I opened my eyes and yelped. She was actually floating! The crowd went absolutely wild.
I cover the microphone and look at the kid. “What are you playing at?”
He smiled at me and simply said, “I’m a magician like you!” He waved his hands in the air, my wife awoke and gently fell onto her back. He looked at me, winked, and vanished in a puff of smoke.