Where I try and make sense of what is going on.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the grand finale… my final trick.”
He had them eating out of the palm of his hand. He could do no wrong. The night had gone on long, and he had won them over. H e was not a good looking man, even from the balcony seats, people could tell. His costume could not hide the scars, and he did not try. They were a constant reminder of his failure. Of how the trick he was about to perform had bested him.
He had hesitated for a moment before he strode on stage, fearing the reaction, but they had come to see him and he was going to give them a show. He heard the gasps as the lights hit his face, and he played through it. Now, they only saw The Magician.
This was the easy part. Showing them something they had never seen before, and they would never see again. For not only was this his final trick of the night, it was his Final Trick.
The men grunted with the effort of the cabinet, The Magician had made sure the wheels did not spin easily so their effort would add to the wonder. The wheels squeaked along the stage. He looked out across the sea of faces and smiled. The realization that he was going to try it again washed over their faces, he saw concern from the well dressed people sitting in the front row, they were nervous, and they had every right to be.
With a final grunt, the cabinet was set on the mark that The Magician had so carefully placed, then with a flourish, a curtain dropped from the ceiling, falling perfectly around the cabinet, just as The Magician had planned. He nodded to the movers and they left the stage, not knowing that they were going to be part of history, everyone in the theater was going to be remembered for years to come, and the people claiming to have been here at this moment, would fill the seats ten times over.
Her wardrobe change complete, his assistant strode in from offstage her long hair flowing out from behind her.
She had been beautiful once, very beautiful. In his early days The Magician had been able to hide the weaknesses of his technique because all eyes were on her. His technique improved as their years together took their toll. She was just as scarred as him, but her skin was still flawless.
She never let her anger at The Magician show to the audience, but he knew. Just as he knew right now how terrified she was.
He faced the crowd. Let them look at the scars on his face, let them see what had happened the last time he had done this trick. Let them start to fear.
The fear had been there the whole time, he could feel its undercurrent, even through the comedy moments of his performance. The had laughed when they were supposed to, but there had been that murmur, that hint of danger.
He saw it in their faces. They were scavengers, praying for a repeat of that night five years ago, the night that had driven him into seclusion. The would never admit it, but they wanted him to fail.
Tonight, he was not going to give them what they wanted. He was going to give them the greatest show they had ever seen.
“For centuries, man has asked himself is he alone, is there anything more than this existence.”
His saw the zealots in the back row, the ones that held the signs in front of the theater when everyone was watching. The signs that called him a Devil Worshipper, a demon escaped from hell. But they always snuck in just as the doors were closing so they could see the show.
“The priests came along and told us that we were being watched by Zeus on Olympus, Odin in Asgard, from The One True God seated in Heaven!”
His voice filled the theater, just like the preachers he used to watch as a kid.
“Many have claimed to have felt them, heard their voices commanding them to spread the word. But I tell you, brothers and sisters, those holy men are no different than I, they use the same tricks, the same sleight of hand.”
There were gasps. He saw people shaking their heads. He pointed to a man in the front row.
“You, sir, have you ever seen the face of God?”
The man glared. Just as The Magician wanted.
“No, of course you haven’t, the gods do not show themselves to mortal men.”
He paused. Stood tall and let the light fall on his face.
“But tonight. Tonight I will bring God before us and ask him why.”
He glanced over at his assistant. She had tried to talk him out of this, and had hoped against hope that he would abandon his plan. He saw in her eyes, not the anger he had seen only hours before, but a sadness. And for a brief moment he faltered.
“I will ask him why he does not stop the starvation, the wars, the disease. I will demand answers.”
One of the zealots screamed from the back of the room.
“Blasphemer!”
The Magician smiled, and bowed deep.
The the curtain dropped and the cabinet was shown to all.
Light poured from inside, erupting through the gaps between the board. From within came a sound, a sound unlike anything anyone had ever heard.
The Magician felt the heat emanating from the cabinet. He felt the skin of his face tighten, remembering the pain from the last time he opened those doors. He heard his assistant step away.
The Magician turned. Reached his hands out to the ornate brass handles on the cabinet doors and pulled them open.
There was only one survivor from The Magician’s final show. He never spoke of what happened that night.
He lived another hundred years, fought in two world wars, outlived his children and grandchildren.
When he finally succumbed to death, he saw what he had feared all those years, for death was what had come out of that cabinet, and it no longer passed him over.