Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter 1

I'm in the subways agin, trying to find the least disease ridden spot. I've been searching since I stopped doing magic tricks in the park, that was 4 hours ago. I only made $7.38 from my magic tricks, so I only had enough for dinner or save for new clothes from good will. Even though I haven't eaten in a few days I chose to save for the clothes, people will tip more if I look professional.

I perform magic tricks all day everyday in the park so I have enough to eat. Growing up on the streets of NYC is tough, but to grow up on the streets with nothing and no one without knowing who you are is brutal.

I have no memories prior to, I think, age 10. I know how to preform magic, do math, and spell, I just don't know where I learned. I'm also apparently a genius with an I.Q of 148. I don't know my name or age, but I think I'm 18, I have jet black hair and ocean blue eyes. I am a little skinny from not eating, and have some muscle on my legs from performing all day.

The magic I preform is fake but looks cool, not like the wash outs and wanna be's. It looks cool, colorful, and totally real. It's why I get the larger tips than others. People often ask me, "who are you?" and "what are your secrets?". I smile and say "I am no one and the best magicians never reveal there secrets." They seem placated by this, but it's true, I am no one, I have no name, and I don't know how I know these tricks. Sometimes I scare myself with these tricks. When I preform my body takes control, and instinct kicks in. No one has ever gotten hurt from the tricks, not even myself, but I don't what I'm performing that day at all. I've never prepared for the show, it always just happens, I don't know how I do it.

After 2 more hours of searching I found a good spot in an abandoned tunnel. It's dark and cold, but it beats being close to the tracks. I've seen many homeless die when, in there sleep, roll onto the tracks and get hit by a train. Sometimes I wish I could just jump in front of the train myself and die, but something always stops me, like some one, or someTHING, is telling me to hang on, that I'm meant for more. I don't know how much longer I can stand though, before it all becomes too much for me to handle.

I take the ratty blanket I found in the garbage and lie down. As I fell asleep I feel eyes watching me, must be the rats. I shrug and sleep, I sleep and dream. I dream of powerful birds who turn ablaze.