Spookyness

Baptism

*Credit to AP Matt on Facebook*

Don’t go, they said. 

He isn’t real, they said. 

My colleagues had said it was a hoax – an urban legend that old illusionists tell younger ones to spook them. If it was real, certainly no one was ever given an invitation to be a part of Emil Valducci’s show, especially not a girl. Women aren’t allowed to be magicians. Women are only allowed to be the beautiful assistants or quick-change artists. This was the way. But this is a new age and even the old, unchanging traditions of magicians were open to new interpretation. 

I’d been studying illusion for almost a decade when I got the invitation. Even after years and years of dedication, I wasn’t really accepted by the others. I’m quite good, I really am. I do some wicked slight-of-hand and I’m even proficient at escapology, even though it’s a dying art form. As a girl, I’m more flexible than other magicians, which really helps me out of the straight-jackets and handcuffs. I was good enough. I decided to go to the show, hoping that it was a demonstration of his skill instead of an audition of mine.

The place wasn’t hard to find. It was the kind of place you would normally overlook, just a little hole-in-the-wall movie theater, the kind where the glassed in ticket booth had enough room for one man to stand and take your money. The glass booth was empty and stained with yellow-brown tar from years of someone smoking a cigarette inside it. I decided to go inside in spite of the empty booth – I had been given an invitation, after all.

The front door opened to a long, dark hallway. The pairs of old fashioned lamps lining the walls of the hall were dim, barely glowing. I heard the muffled rumbling of an excited audience whispering to one another coming from the end of the hall. 

Everyone else must have been seated already. Two velvet curtains were loosely gathered up at the doorway; I ducked to enter.

When I entered the auditorium, I was first struck by the silence. I had just been hearing the low din of a hundred people whispering and muttering. And now… silence. My ears felt heavy, like they were full of water. A knot began to turn itself over in my stomach.

I looked around at the others in the audience. They were sitting perfectly still, staring patiently up at the stage. Every seat was taken – every seat except one in the middle of the front row. It must be mine, I thought. I approached the first row, passing the eerie, glassy-eyed audience. I tried to take in as much as I could as I walked slowly toward my seat. 

A portly, chubby man in turn of the century clothing – thick black walrus moustache hiding his lips, a vest with a pocket-watch chain and a monocle over one eye. He spilled over into the seats around him, pressing into the patrons to his left and right. No one seemed to mind. They stared forward blankly. 

A young boy with a thick striped black and yellow shirt sat a few seats over. He wore a small cap with a propeller on his head. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen anyone wear that before, I thought to myself. He sat with a paper cone full of pale pink cotton candy in both of his hands. He didn’t touch it. I shook my head slightly. No boy his age would be staring at the stage instead of eating that sugary fluff. The vacant smile on his face gave me chills.

An old woman in a pastel turquoise pant-suit from the 80’s sat beside the boy. Her hair looked like a poodle sat on her head, tight curls of platinum blonde in a round poof. Her teeth looked like polished stones and were the same color as her twisted ropes of pearls. Some tacky gold brooch was pinned to the lapel of her mint-green suit. The loose flesh under her chin looked like the skin of a plucked, uncooked chicken.

My cell phone chirped. I jumped. The buzz in my vest pocket startled me and the sound of the text message tone was deafening in the silence. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I took a glance at my phone. The harsh white light nearly blinded me. A text from one of my colleagues: you didn’t actually go, did you? I frowned and ignored the message. A terrible feeling washed over me and I looked up.