Diminya Brown

The Magician

There is no magic to manifestation. To endow all Of your trust in a whimsical affirmation is futile. Zero productivity will never transpire into dreams and beware if they do because karma is sure to align, afterwards. Hendrix, on the other hand, was unaware of this affirming ideology. He lived his life on a tight rope with God always on his side and the Devil unawakened in the avenging depths below. It’s not that life was handed to him on a silver spoon but, that he believed it should be. Hendrix walked 33rd street everyday with his magical black suede notebook tucked away in his satchel that lay seamlessly on his hip ready to be pulled out at any moment. He started his morning with gratitude. “I am thankful for waking up this morning.” “I am thankful that my cat woke me up this morning.” “I am thankful that I have the air in my lungs and my little black notebook to take on the world.” Of course, all of this was written down in his notebook readily available for the universe to rip the words right out of the confines of the paper and into Hendrix’s reality. Hendrix turned up his music and today he trotted with a smile down 33rd street like everyday this week. Suddenly, a feeble man, clothes riddled with holes and grime approached him steadily and asked “ay young, can I hold a cigarette?” Hendrix a bit startled but in a friendly tone responded “I’m sorry man! I don’t have one.” Hendrix continued walking but quickly sensed that the man was following him. Hendrix sped up but, the man preying on his inquisitive fear, leaped out at him and grabbed his satchel. Hendrix collapsed to the ground and clenched hard onto the worn handle of his satchel looking dead into the eyes of the man standing on top of him. The man’s eyes were glazed over and his hands trembled immensely as he grunted “gimme this bag. Please...I don’t want to hurt you.” Hendrix slowly began to consciously experience empathy and began to feel the fear transferring from the man’s body and attempting to penetrate his. Hendrix let go. The man ran. “Damn, all my hopes and dreams were in that notebook” Hendrix sighed. The thing is Hendrix had been spending every waking moment of his life attempting to be ultra positive in order to reap some sort of happiness but, this is what he was left with. Bruised knees, stolen items, and a broken spirit. Hendrix had now truly settled into reality. Because the truth is reality isn’t pretty and reality can get ugly real quick. Hendrix continued his trip down 33rd street with a smile. “I’ll get it back, someday! I just feel it.” But what ever happened to the notebook. The notebook had gotten into the hands of 43 year old Silas Givens. Silas had lost his job about 8 months ago. The mother of his kids had assumed custody. The courts kept it plain and simple. “Get back on your feet and you can obtain partial custody, Mr.Givens.” These words were cemented into his mind. This would prove to be inconceivably difficult for Silas. You see, Silas had a terrible monster brooding inside of him. In him, sat the devil at full rage waiting for its next fix. Silas wanted to get clean but he lacked drive, motivation, and positive affirmation. One day in a dream a beautiful spirit reassured Silas “everything You want to know You already know!” This struck Silas heavy deep in his heart and it was in that moment he became so fed up and utterly disgusted with himself that he decided to quit. Quitting did not go as planned as Silas became terribly ill trying to quit cold turkey on his own. Silas began to see flashes of his universe breaking into fragments. Looming memories like short films played iridescently in his mind. He was getting weaker by the day and knew if he didn’t check himself into a facility, he may not wakeup. The fee to get into Broadview Drug Rehabilitation Center was just $45. That’s all he needed. Scared senseless, his only option at the time was to rob someone of their innocence. He scouted 33rd street and saw a curly haired, seemingly happy, man with a lackadaisical walk proceeding near an alleyway. Silas was trembling in fear so he proceeded to walk up to Silas and ask for a cigarette first to asses the danger. The man responded in a soft and inviting tone. The man begin to walk away. Silas realizing that if he didn’t take this chance he would most likely die alone on the streets, without his kids, leaped at the man and grabbed for his satchel. Silas saw no fear in the man’s eyes. It’s as almost if the man pitied him but the man still held tight on to the satchel. Silas grunted “gimme this bag! Please...I don’t want to hurt you!” He knew he didn’t have the strength to hurt him neither did he have the willpower to. But suddenly the man had just let go. Silas ran. He ran for about a mile before his body gave out. He tore open the satchel. There was only one thing in it, a small black notebook. “DAMMIT!” Silas screamed. Silas sat on the curb and began sobbing. His life was seemingly over. He was sick, in pain and mentally and emotionally unable to handle it all. He picked up the notebook and flipped to a page. “You are alive, Be grateful” the man let out a half smile because of the humor of the situation. Then he flipped the page. “You are rich, even if you’ve only saved $50” Silas gasped. There was an envelope glued to the page. He ripped it open and there it was. It was enough money to check himself in. Silas had found his silver lining afterwards and maybe the reality wasn’t so bleak. Maybe good things do happen to terrible people because they just have to realize the light within. We are all good deep down inside. As he trotted to the facility he yelled “I feel like I just won $20,000 yo!” Silas reborn into a life that he was in charge of, that he would lead, and that would always be by his side as long as he was able to stay positive. But he already knew this just as we all do. And one day he would write Hendrix and give him that $50 back and apologize for being a piece of scum but acknowledge that without Hendrix’s little black notebook, he would have been forgotten and long gone in a world full of what if’s.