Collection Of Short Stories

The Last Illusion (Highly Commended in Cecil Day Lewis Literary Awards 2013)

Magic. It's a primitive thing really. Even the most seemingly complicated tricks and shows are based around two simple concepts: illusions and suggestion. Each, on it's own, is a simple, yet powerful thing. Yet put together, they can become an unstoppable force. With suggestion, you could hypnotise a person, but if you added illusions, you could give them an unforgettable experience, or, if you so wished, drive them to insanity. It's fascinating really, don't you think? How easily a so-called "advanced" species could, in theory, be brought to it's knees by something so simple as magic. By something so primative as hypnosis.

I have always been amazed and fascinated by magic. When I was a boy, if ever the circus was in town, I would sit, watching the magicians for hours. I heard stories of the greats. I wanted to be just like them, if not better. I finished school at the tender age of twelve, and was sent away to college by my father, who wished for me to pursue a noble prefession, preferably in the worls of medicine.

I chose to study psychology. I enjoyed it very much so, and completed my degree, earning my doctrate at the age of seventeen, with great honours and grades to my name. A year later, I startes practice, but I was never truly happy, never truly satisfied. I quit my job, with a large and hefty sum of money to my name, and went back to my passion; Magic.

And that, my friend, is where my unfortunate story truly starts.

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                           Two Years Earlier. Le Theatre Paradis Latin, Paris

The crowd rustled and murmured excitedly as the compère walked on stage, in front of the curtains. The firey torches at the front of the stage illuminated him hauntingly as he smiled, before adressing the crowd.

'Ladies and gentlemen. Mesdames and monsieurs. On this fine evening, it gives me great pleasure to say this... Nay, to have presented this fine genius of a man. This master of the elements. This master of... dare I say it; death. I should hope you have all enjoyed the show. But be prepared to be astonished more so than before, for you will not believe what appears before you for this final masterpiece. And so! Without further delay. I give you, for the last time this evening... Dr Bœrnwern.'

The small, boisterous man waddled off-stage, as the curtains were pulled back, revealing a man, stood on a chair. The crowd gasped in shock, not because of his simple attire; a blue shirt, accompanied by grey trousers, a matching waistcoat and brown dress-shoes, but because of how he appeared. Not just standing on a chair, but he had a noose around his neck, the string of which reached up into the rafters above the stage. Not only that, but the poor man looked fear-stricken. For a man whose reputation spoke of as boisterous, fun-loving and good-humoured, it was not expected in the least of things.

He seemed to pale and gulp, before lifting his right foot before him. The audience held their breath, as he squeezed his eyes shut and fell forward. A few women screamed, only to cover their mouths in shock as his foot stopped dead in mis-air. The magician himself loojed down in shock and confusion, before letting out a bark of laughter. He jumped up and down on that foot, before removing the other from the chair and bringing it to join the first. He stood, in mid-air, with a joyous expression on his face and raised his arms in presentation of his wonderful trick.

The audience clapped and cheered, while he, himself, looked from his feet to the noose and back again in wonder. The audience began to quiet as he jumped again, still to no affect. It seemed almost comical in nature. He jumped once more, only, to the horror of the audience, to fall through his little pocket of air. He cried out and grabbed at the noose, gasping for air.

The audience fell into a stunned silence once more, watching in horrified fascination as their favourite magician hung before them. He closed his eyes, still gasping for air, and removed his hands from the noose. He turned visibly red as he brought his hands out to either side of him and clicked, the sound seemingly snapping the rope. He crumpled to the ground, before falling into a tumble, only to end up standing and smiling his arms out wide in substitution of the 'ta-da' of an orchestra's finale.