ShortStory1

It was the fourteenth day of Simone Fausse-Alerteâs self-starvation. The theater was full of eyes fixed on him sitting on a stool upon the stage and doing nothing. He wasnât moving, except for his pupils which followed every movement in the crowd. He didnât see people, just a flock of googling eyes and puckered lips behind quizzing-glasses. His ears were in vigilant ignorance of all the words of disbelief that were muttered by the pompous people in the lodge. He would prove to them, prove that he was a real magician; just a few more hours. An assistant climbed up the stage and sipped water into his mouth. He gulped and returned to his stature-like posture.
Simon Fausse-Alerte wasnât his real name, but itâs hard to imagine a popular magician with a non-French name. He was in the business so long that he even forgot how they used to call him before, and it didnât really matter because still no one really knew about him. He remembered the time when he fit himself in a watermelon, or even the time when he set his shirt on fire and then transfigured it into a cigarette, or the time he turned himself in a tree for a whole week â every time the gentle swirl of reminiscence was blown away by the outcome of those events.
ââ A toy melon?! A magic store trick-shirt?! And oh, those self-important bastards putting their palms over the eyes of their kids when I reshaped back nakedâ¦ââ he frowned on the bare though of this events. But the worst of all, hidden deep in the pocket of a pair of lost trousers in a nailed-shut locker in the abandoned part of his mind- his last great show. It was the time magic shows were quite popular with the mainstream crowd, people could afford to see what they liked and every one of them knew for certain that they loved magic. He worked on the show like on none of them before. The stage was perfectly set, behind the scarlet curtains spread a bushy veil of smoke covering a life-like workshop. The plan was to multiply himself and manufacture a souvenir for everyone in the audience. It begun pompously, the curtains opened and he appeared wearing his wizard robe and a tie (for he learned to blamed his previous failures on his lack of elegance) gathering the smoke in a glass ball and dropping it on the floor, all in swift, well-rehearsed movements. From the shattered glass rose a great spider of fireworks and from each spark appears his double. Silence. Not a bug. Just his hart excitedly jumping in his chest. Nothing. No one was there to behold. Nobody. Not a single man. And even the doubles didnât seem to be impressed; and it was real magic.
It were minutes left until his great comeback, he drunk his last glass of water before the great finale. His assistant sipped it into his mouth, padded him on the shoulder and gave him an excited but confident smile. The whole crew was on their toes. Jerry, Simonâs manager, counted every popcorn eaten, every drop of water swallowed and every childâs pull on its parentâs sleeve. All pennies flying into his pocket. It was a wonder how he pulled the show of, a thousand phone calls, hours of negotiation, countless sleepless nights, all for one all-but-popular veteran magician.
Simonâs assistants quivered in excitement. The whole crowd breathed slowly, their eyes pinned on the clock above Simonâs head awaiting the last 10 seconds. The numbers to be chanted simultaneously with the movement of clock-finger were already waiting in their throats. The electrified atmosphere seemed to be wrapped around everybodyâs neck, except for Simon. He didnât even blink. It hurt; hurt his being in every way possible, still his gaunt face gave away no physical nor emotional expression.
His mind was away, floating over his head. Can stand their bloody eyes, rotten words but they didnât come to see REAL magic look at them and their cheap thrills REAL magic REAL REAL REAL and they couldnât give a damn.
He was sitting in his room transfiguring his tears into a small audience and stomping on them. The whole crew was camping at his door for days. Simon had recently quit his job as an ice-cream salesman due to a parent complaining at the ice- cream with a non-melting spell on it, that he sold to his kid.
I tried everything the only thing Iâm good at the thing I was made for and they think itâs a hoax
Days passed and his crew were shouting words of encouragement through his door, even tried to break through it. He put a security-lock spell on it and continued to drown and gape for air in the blue mist of his thoughts.
Real magic and they rather see me fetch a bunny from a hat this is REAL pain and looking at them is a real pain in the ass
After a few more days everybody around Simon really started to worry. To his assistants he was a friend and mentor, and to Jerry, and it was hard for him to admit it, the one and only source of income he had.
ââ Look now Merlin, if you donât open that door nobodyâs gonna wait for you, and if you really want to stop whining step outside and look what we have for youââ Jerry shouted through the keyhole.
It hurts im a failure but Iâm giving it to them giving what they asked for all the time
More days had passed after Simon shrank the keyhole. He was in the process of creating a fish to swim in a glass which he filled with tears as a paper slid under the door. It was all planned, all set for his return and his great claim to fame.
5, 4 , 3 ,2 ,1â¦.He did it. The whole theater burned in ecstasy. The whole team run to congratulate to Simon, parents were throwing their kids in the air, and an old hoity lady in the lodge fainted. Journalists were rushing to take a photo of Simon. His gaunt face was set to be on the front page of every newspaper in the world. He took a bite of a banana, adjusted his tie, bowed to the audience one more time and sat down to answer the hottest questions the press prepared for him.
"How did you do it?" Asked a man from the press
"You don't ask a magician such questions!" Shouted someone from the back of the room.
Simon sniggered and stabbed everybody in the room with a sharp penetrating stare
"Real magic is inexplicable but you morons have been duped, I cheated" he stuttered bitterly
A murmur kept spreading through the crowd until a man finally stood up and said "Of course you cheated, you're a magician, it's all trickery, we only want to know how you did it"
Simon's palid face went red
" You want to understand? Understand magic?!" He shouted spinning his hands
"i'll tell you the secret, i took pills, food replacement in the water".
Silence. Not a fly. Just the violent, exousted sound of Simon's breath⦠the crowd breaks down in complete astonished ecstasy. ..