Tag: magic

Arthur’s Trick

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Arthur’s trick was he’d take a fruit, turn around, and when he’d turn back a second later he’d have the empty peel in one hand and the fruit in the other hand.
We checked his pockets and his jacket, but he wasn’t concealing an already-peeled fruit anywhere. And if you’d draw something on the rind with a magic marker, that exact mark would be on the peel.
Tommy wanted to watch it happen. He stood behind Arthur, and Arthur turned…
I have never heard a scream like that, animal or human.
We don’t ask Arthur to do the trick anymore.

Chadwick

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Baron Chadwick stood at the parapet at sundown and serenaded the moon with the strains of violin music.
For hundreds of years, the moon rewarded him with restful sleep and another day of life.
He keep the arrangement a secret, quietly changing servants every decade or so.
But one morning, Chadwick awoke to find his violin and butler gone.
He watched the creases reappear on the backs of his hands throughout the day. As the sun went down, he felt the telltale aches and pains.
Chadwick pulled his the spare violin and played… with the same old ancient magical bow.

Some stains

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Some stains don’t come out easily.
No, I’m not talking about grape juice stains. We get enough of those in the clothes people donate through us.
I’m talking about spiritual stains. Echoes of misery and agony, soaked into the fabric beyond the reach of any detergent.
Put on a haunted suit, the wedding goes bad.
Put on a haunted ball cap, you get headaches.
Put on a haunted dress, your tits sag.
That’s why we use a laundry that has a full-time exorcist on staff. Removes the curses.
But if you don’t pay, we can always put them back in.

Wishfish

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Once upon a time, there was a fisherman who caught a magical talking fish.
“If you let me go,” said the fish, “I will grant you three wishes.”
So the fisherman wished for a large lemon, a sharp fillet knife, and a good wine that goes with fish.
“Your wishes are… um… er… granted,” said the fish.
Then the fisherman killed and boned the fish, slicing it into thick fillets.
However, when he got home to have his wife cook the fish for him, the stove was broken.
They had a fire pit outside, though. The fish was absolutely delicious.

Home

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When you are far from home and all you see is a pile of stones, fill your heart with memories of home and arrange the stones like the night sky above it.
Now close your eyes, take a deep breath, and forget where you are.
Concentrate completely on home. The sounds of home. The smells of home.
The weight of the air of home on your bare skin.
Know that you are home. Believe that you are home.
Count three beats of your heart, breathe deeply, and open your eyes.
Welcome home, apprentice, for you always bring home with you.

Trinkets

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The ancient Indian closed his eyes and hissed a curse:
The land, it hates you. It trembles with rage, shaking under your accursed White Man’s feet, wishing it could swallow you whole and spit you out in Hell.
Those maps in your wicked hand will not guide you. The land will twist and writhe like The Snake Spirit, sending you to your doom.
I looked at the trinkets on his table again.
“Okay, twenty bucks for the necklace,” I said.
“Thirty,” said the Indian.
“Twenty-five?”
The Indian smiled. “Sold,” he said. “And you’re lost because your map is upside down.”

Time To Change

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Do you believe in magic?
Well, I do. I believe in it with all my heart.
I’ve seen dragons flying through the clouds. They’re clever creatures, ducking behind the clouds when you get your camera out.
I’ve stopped trying to take their picture. I’d rather just enjoy their acrobatic wonder.
I’ve made friends with the Little People. I’ve also made friends with man-eating giants. But you rarely see both at the same party.
I think it has something to do with the caterers.
There’s more out there, but I can’t tell you right now.
Full moon’s out.
Time to change.

The Surprise Inside

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When I was little, I knew exactly what was in each Cracker Jack box before I opened it.
I could hold the box in my hands and just know what was in there.
Cool, huh?
Bullshit.
As time went by, the prizes got cheaper and less impressive. I used to sense tin whistles and compasses. Now I sense stickers and “collector cards” that aren’t worth collecting.
Cheap, flimsy crap. Everything is cheap, flimsy crap these days. And it just keeps getting crappier.
But you know what the worst part of this “gift” is?
I’m diabetic. Never could eat the shit.

Life Is Cruel

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“Alive,” mumbled the wizard, casually flicking his wand.
The chair, startled, walked around the table and settled back into its usual spot.
“Alive,” yawned the wizard, waving his wand yet again.
The clock’s hands spun. Then, the minute and second hands turned back and forth, seeking out the correct time.
The wizard smirked and wandered off to his workshop.
Later that evening, both the chair and the clock slowly died.
Nobody noticed, and nobody mourned their passing.
Just like every other object the wizard had brought to life, blithely ignored, and allowed to die.
Sometimes, life is cruel that way.

The Wasting Curse

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Alfonse dragged the sack of bones out of the charnel house and down to the creek.
“Drown, you infernal hag,” grumbled the old monk. He emptied the bones into the water.
That’s how the Wasting Curse struck Creeksedge. Man and woman, child and beast broke out in massive, putrid boils. The sores would burst and run, making the victim mad with thirst.
More cursed water, more sores.
Then death.
Alfonse watched it all from his hut, drinking bottle after bottle of the abbey’s wine.
The witch’s ghost knocked over his candle, incinerating Alfonse as he slept.
Revenge, whispered the wind.