The illusion of death is one of my favorites to perform, especially for a crowd of seventy or more. The enlarging of their eyes, the shock on their faces, the the breaths they hold — all of it fuels me with perform the best show possible. I love being eaten by sharks I love replacing my body with a cadaver and watching them see that in the end, it was all a trick, that I have come back, that I am their messiah.
It’s one of the few sources of joy in my life now that I am single again.
I once had an assistant, a charming young woman that I ended up discovery was too charming. She always kept her disbelief suspended. She’s always react to the same way to each trick as if she’d seen it for the first time. I later figured out that this was simply how her race of extraterrestrials operated and that they had terrible long term memory, but I still miss her. I still miss the delight she’d give me, despite me wanting her to be serious.
But rather than an assistant, perhaps I need an apprentice. Someone who will carry on my legacy. Someone willing to fetch me a taco from the taco truck down on fifth. Someone who can check for rats in the cellar when I don’t want to. Someone who will remind me that having a lot of wine at parties will blow my cover as a mysterious charming magician, because when I get drunk, I’m that kind of drunk.
You’re nodding. Why are you nodding? Or… are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you wish to be my assistant?
No? Then why are you nodding? Sympathy? Pity? Empathy? Both?
Forget it. You’re a reptile. I feed you lettuce. You just want lettuce, don’t you?
Lettuce and death.
Hey, everybody! Thanks for reading to the end. This Flash Fiction Friday piece came from a free write I did in April of this year. I don’t remember the prompt, and I was having trouble extending this one. Any suggestions for improvement or development are welcome.
Anyway, that’s it from me. See you next post!