This week’s SpecFic writing prompt winner is S.J. Wolford!!!
The prompt this week was: A world famous magician randomly selects someone from the audience to assist in an illusion. Little does the magician know, the volunteer is capable of real magic.
This was her entry:
“They say he’s the best of the best,” Omalia beamed as they neared the back of the crowd. “And all on account of those potions he brews.”
“Is that so?” Lettie raised a skeptical brow. The girl always was the most gullible of the bunch.
If there was any truth to this Master of Sorcery’s boastful claims, the potion he peddled might give their little crew a nifty advantage.
Unfortunately – if the condition of his stage was any indication – he was a regular old snake oil salesman and their evening would be a wasted one. Still, there had to be some way to make good use of this charlatan’s shitshow.
The performance began and suspicions were confirmed. As the crowd in front of them gasped and cheered at the simple illusions, a chorus of curses and sneers rumbled from their crew in the back.
Disappointment sagged Omalia’s shoulders. She was in for a relentless night of teasing. Sure, her blind optimism was annoying, but it was also a refreshing contrast to the cynical attitudes held by the rest of the crew. Lettie knew she needed to salvage the night; she refused to let Omalia lose her light over one bad call.
“He’ll ask for a volunteer soon,” Lettie glanced back at Cap, “Get me up there.”
The old man nodded, closing his eyes to channel some influence the magician’s way. After a minute, Lettie was summoned to the stage.
“I have a proposal,” she made the discreet offer under her breath as she took the magician’s hand. “Your gold from tonight, every last coin, and I won’t reveal your secrets.”
“Secrets?” he scoffed, “Just pick a card, sweetheart.”
A sly smile curled her lips as she obliged.
“Is this your card?” He held one up.
Lettie shook her head, using her telekinesis to yank the card from the man’s fingertips. She sent it in a whirlwind around him, making sure to slice here and there for dramatic effect. Papercuts weren’t life threatening, but they stung and they bled. She had a point to prove.
Horror painted the man’s face and Lettie maintained her smile. The audience ate it up as part of the show. He scrambled to present another card.
She whispered, “Yes or no?”
The magician, apparently as daft as he was phony, ignored her question. With a blink she set the entire deck on fire.
“Yes! Yes! Of course!” he shouted, wildly stomping at the flames that threatened to send the entire dry-rotting façade ablaze.
“Oh, there it is!” she grinned and pointed to the card that was neatly pinned at the front of the stage, “What an incredible gift you have!”
The audience cheered and she found Omalia’s face in the crowd. She tossed her a wink. Their purses would be full and the phony magician would leave their town just as fast as his shabby little cart could carry him. The night was not lost, after all.