The Illusionist

The Illusionist



“I can show you the stars!” He cries looking over the audience. Joy and excitement in his eyes, with a flourish of his hand lights sparkle throughout the darkened room. As the sky seems to come to life around them, as he moves across the stage, smiling broadly, as the people stare in disbelief.



“I can show you the fire that burns brightly in everyone’s soul.” Mummers circulate as the stars fade and total darkness envelopes the room, many doubtfully whisper as nothing seems to happen, until a small spec appears in the distant horizon growing ever brighter and stronger with each passing second. Until the flames seem to engulf the crowd. The fire roars in their ears as many close their eyes in an attempt to hide from the inferno; slowly the fire diminishes and though their fear is still strong they hear a voice inside their heads.



“I can show you the future,” he continues softly, “a future of blood and steel. A future where man rules all, opposed by none, other than himself.” The voice continues as the crowd starts to move, looking around they are no longer in the theater but instead they stood upon a field littered with the dead, as crows circled far overhead waiting for the living to pass so they too can begin there feast.



As the others, the illusion fades and the crowd is back in their seats looking astonished and bewildered.



“I can show you many things,” says the illusionist walking through the crowd, “but who is to say it was ever real? Who is to say anything was real? Who is to know?” With a final bow to the audience, he opens the door to the world and disappears. As though he was never there.