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Disbelief!
A Thought Provoking New Story 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. 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. 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






Your thoughts?

[/quote]

Is a good thing in this case, or should I be afraid?

I'm just not sure what you are after. I dont want to seem like I'm ganging up on a kid, but Its all a bit bizarre.
When you say you are going to slow down, you actually mean that you are going to write a short story about magic and ask us to review it?

NO this story is from a while ago. I just posted it for fun... didn't want reviews.

Mike,

I'm sorry, but I lost interest after the first few paragraphs And I'm not really sure what you were trying to achieve ??

Just trying to tell a tale. When did you lose interest?

good story actually, had me intrested

TTHHHAANNKK you! Finally someone understands what I am trying to do.

Michael Kras wrote:TTHHHAANNKK you! Finally someone understands what I am trying to do.

Michael,

I've noticed that you tend to question criticism and listen to praise. In my experience, it's better to listen to criticism and question praise.

Yes. You're very right about that. I totally agree.

By the way, what did you think of the story:)?

Thank you

Michael Kras

Michael Kras wrote:Yes. You're very right about that. I totally agree.

By the way, what did you think of the story:)?

Well, speaking as a freelance writer, someone who actually makes his living from writing, I thought the plot was interesting but the writing needs tightening up and the viewpoint kept changing from first person subjective to objective. That's sloppy. Why, for instance, did you jump onto the stage "abruptly"? You're suddenly describing yourself from an objective viewpoint rather than telling us what motivated you. "In hopes to save the woman from her certain death" (sic) isn't the reason, it's the reaction. Do you always help when you see a car crash, for instance, or do you know this woman? What did you really hope to achieve by jumping up, or was the move what Hitchcock calls a McGuffin - something to move the plot along? Pick a viewpoint and stick with it. You could probably do with getting "How to Write A Damned Good Novel" by James N. Frey from the library (ISBN: 0-312-01044-3).

is this all your own work, what were your inspirations, how was the story motivated.

it needs polishing and flits about as stated before but it has substance and form and flow, but what motivates you to post as you do iterests me more.
are you seeking notoriety like blaine or hero worship like copperfield or perhaps its the inocence of youth that strives you for reconition, watever it is it will be an interesting ride thats for certain.

Thank you for your reply. The story was inspired by the movies The Prestige and The Illusionist, and the motivation was simply my love of writing!

I post quite often here because I love to converse with other magicians.

Hope that clears everything up!

Michael Kras

Michael Kras wrote:NO this story is from a while ago. I just posted it for fun... didn't want reviews.


...What did you think of the story?

kinda contradicting yourself there, fella.
i got bored too, right after your first contradiction in the story about watching the man's "polished elight of hand" then being disheartend when he says it all sleight of hand.