Creepypastas Storys

The Magician's Game

The audience laughed as the young man in the top hat smiled. The trick he had just completed had apparently been more than enough to please the crowd. As the man slowly walked away from the almost blindly bright spotlight, he kept his face focused on the crowd, continuing to smile.

He attempted to focus on specific members, one being a teenager who appeared to be recording the whole thing on his phone, another being a pretty blond girl with particularly lovely blue eyes. Tom realized that this wasn't helping when he almost tripped on his own feet, and he went back to just smiling and focusing his effort on leaving the stage.

After a few moments, the magician was out of the audience's sight.

Immediately, he stopped grinning and went to his nearby dressing room.

Once the magician had opened the door, he ducked under the doorway and walked inside the cramped room. Closing the door, he finally let out a sigh. After years of doing the same acts, it was finally starting to tire him out. At this point, he collapsed against the door and sat down for several minutes, thinking.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Mr. Olzvick, do you mind if I speak with you for a sec? I promise it won't take very long." It was clearly the voice of a young man. He seemed to be rather impatient, for he said his words very quickly.

Mr. Olzvick, being a bit startled by this person, quickly retorted, "What do ya want, autographs? Interviews?"

"Not quite, Mr. Olzvick. I have a letter for you, and it is kind of important. I'm supposed to deliver it to you face to face, so can you open up the door, Mr. Olzvick?"

He had received letters before, but something about the way the man worded the sentence gave Mr. Olzvick an uncomfortable feeling. Why would a letter need to be delivered "face to face"? Shrugging it off as just odd phrasing, Mr. Olzvick sighed and opened the door.

In front of him was a young man in a clean suit and with a slicked back haircut. With that hair, he looked a bit like an even skinnier version of Elvis in the fifties.

"I'm busy, kid, so just hand me the letter so I can get back to work," the magician grumbled.

"Mr. Olz-"

"Just call me Tom."

"Well then, Tom, you were just sitting against the door, staring off in deep thought. I wouldn't really classify that as 'work'."

"Just give me the damn letter," Tom said, getting impatient.

"Alright, fine. I wish you good luck and goodbye, Mr. Tom Olzvick," the man stated, and with that, he strolled off.

As the man walked off, Tom suddenly realized how peculiar that conversation was. How did the man know that he was leaning against the door? Why did he wish him "good luck"?

"Maybe this letter can explain something..." Tom muttered to himself, eyeing the letter.

The writing on the front of it was very neat, and there was no stamp or address. The writing stated, "Stop examining and open the letter."

Finding it odd that the letter would know of his actions as he was doing them, Tom started to feel uneasy. He flipped to the back of the letter to find more neat writing, stating, "You are a bit slow. Care to be a bit faster?"

Tom was now incredibly skeptical as to what was going on. Being unable to put aside his curiosity, Tom ripped open the letter.

Inside was a very neatly folded piece of paper. Unfolding it quickly, Tom began to read the handwritten note.