The Deception of Magic

Cover photo thanks to Keith from Keith Smith Photography - check out his website for some more awesome photos - http://www.keithsmithphotography.com.au/

Chapter 1 - Pictures and Words

This book was different, Ciara knew as soon as she found it hiding at the top of the highest shelf in her favourite bookshop. The name of the bookshop was ‘Pictures and words' and it was hidden down a darkened alleyway, where the sunlight never reached, and its only inhabitant was moss. It grew everywhere, bright green and furry. The path leading down to the store was made with old bricks that seemed like they had been there for centuries, originally being clay in the earth whichhad been carved and sculpted with passion. The only direct sunlight the alley had was a sliver just as dusk approached. It was a fleeting few momentsof teasing warmth. The bookshop was halfway up the alley, with a pub on one side and a Laundromat on the other. It seemed like it was originally a back entrance, where rubbish was thrown and where the drunks lay sleeping. The paint in the doorway to the store was cracked with age and broken in places, covered in green mould and was not very inviting. The only indication that it was a bookstore was the white lettering that covered the small French windows. Sometimes there was a trolley of books on the sidewalk, but that was only when there wasn’t enough room inside. The door handle was loose and it needed to be turned sharply for the door to budge. The aroma inside the store hit like a summer storm - fierce and strong, but is was not nearly as pleasant or exciting. Moth balls and old paper filled the air with an expected but always surprisingly strong smell. Sandalwood scented incense burned in the back corner where the money tray sat and where the owner spent most of her time. The store was not busy or profitable enough to warrant needing a computer, or any other expensive technology for that matter.

Receipts were only provided on request and were painfully long to obtain. The owner, dressed in her faded blue jeans, gypsy top and dreadlocked brown hair, was meticulous with her curvature writing. It was agonisingly slow, yet the product was beautiful. She didn’t speak and many thought she was somehow impaired. People tried to make conversations during their purchase, but were only met with silence, nodding and the occasional smile. She sat on a stool for hours and always had a different book, as if she was either a very fast reader or people didn’t go in there too often. There was a loud ticking clock above where she sat and it made a soothing noise that broke the silence andmake the day go by.

Ciara had only visited the store twice before, the first time being by accident. There was a tea shop in the area that had gotten excellent reviews but she had turned into the alley a block early. Ciara was immediately drawn to the bookshop, mesmerised by all the titles, but didn’t have time to explore the shop fully. She had her Photography class on later in the morning and didn’t have the time to spare. Tealess, she had run to the class and flustered entered, receiving angry looks of disturbance. The next time she went to the shop, it was raining, and she had to leave her red umbrella outside. The shop was surprisingly warm and fog had covered the small window panes. She only found one book on early photography, full of black and white photos, the pages yellowing with age. It sat on her wooden coffee table in her house as an intentional decorative piece. Once classes finished for the term, she found she had a lot of time on her hands and ventured down to the bookshop out of pure boredom. It was on this visit that the book at the top of the shelving caught her attention. It was called ‘The Deception of Magic’ – the title was stamped into the spine of the novel in silver lettering. It was bound in leather, which smelt warm and inviting. The price tag stuck to the top right hand corner of the book said $5. When Ciara opened the book, she was immediately mesmerised. The title page had a carefully drawn dragon, with intricate detail on its head, body and tail. The detail of the skin on the beast was similar to calligraphy, and it looked like the scales where in fact symbols. Ciara wondered if the symbols meant anything. Flicking to the next page, the paper felt thick in her fingers. She didn’t care if it was a horrible, boring story, the book was beautiful. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled five dollars out in dollar coins, payed the owner, who only paid attention to the price sticker on the book. Ciara waited for the receipt, put her book under her coat, picked her umbrella up and walked out into the rain, carefully making sure she didn’t slip on the moss. The book felt strangely warm under her coat, when she had expected it to be cold and give her goose bumps. She made it up the slippery alleyway with only a minor slip and walked quickly towards her house. The city was smothered with fog, covering old architecture, modern glass filled buildings and luscious parks. Ciara had lived in the city of Brisbane for over a year now, after finishing school and moving in from the country. She had horses and a Border Collie dog called Rusty back at home that she frequently visited. She had big dreams of becoming a photojournalist and travelling the world but soon realised when she started her course that a lot of other people did too. She was competitive, but second-questioned her abilities and the prospect of changing professions completely entered her mind many times. The rain made the air chilly and she had to run up the massive hill where he apartment was located and as soon as she got home, she took the book out from her coat, placed it on top of her photography book on her coffee table and went and made a warm mug of hot chocolate. Her phone rang while she was making her drink and she got distracted and completely forgot it. It stayed on top of the photography book for the next three days until Ciara got sick of watching reruns on television and picked it up.