Nightmare Magician

The crowd were all seated and ready. The chatter of nearly 1,000 people in the warm glow of the theatre's lights carried with it the anticipation of witnessing something special - a magic show. The bright red, vermillion and gold decor spoke to the occasion and glistened, as the 8 pm start time rolled around.

Soon the lights dimmed and the din was hushed. A sound began to play over the speakers, at first too quiet to make out but gradually gaining in volume: 'Are you ready? He's coming. Are you ready? He's coming. Are you ready? He's coming...'. The chant was repeated, louder and louder, as swirling symphonic music rose with it. With the crash of a great cymbal and a triumphant crescendo, the curtains to the main stage swung open and a brilliant spot light revealed a man in a great red suit jacket, with long tails and immaculate white trousers. A black top hat and cane tipped with silver trim completed his elegantly dazzling look, a well-styled moustache holding firm under the hot lights. With the magician's reveal the crowd were cheering and clapping. The man opened his arms and soaked it in, absorbing the adoration.

Suddenly, with a great spark and puff of smoke he was gone, the spotlight illuminating where he had stood a second ago. Murmurs and whispers of the crowd started in the trick's wake. The room was dimly lit, as if by small fires, and quiet. Then gasps and more applause emanating from the top rows filled the room once more. The magician strode powerfully from the top of the stairs, producing a flower here, a coin there and other trinkets to hand out to the baying audience. Those who touched his hand were shocked to find them icily cold, but their reactions were lost in the joy of those looking on, unaware.

He regained his central spot on the stage and raised his hands at which point the crowd hushed once more. At last he spoke: 'Good evening!', he boomed in a theatrical and commanding voice, 'and welcome to the time of your life!'. As more applause erupted he began his performance.

The magician pulled rabbits out of hats, seemingly read minds with the most dazzling card tricks, performed great feats of escape artistry, placed with fire, deceived and delighted his audience who were totally wrapped up in the spectacle of it all. They had lost track of time in the splendour and presence of their entertainer.

'Ladies and gentlemen, I have but one trick for you, the biggest and the best yet. Who wishes to come on stage, and join me?'. Before finishing his sentence there were hundreds of voices trying to get a foothold and be chosen. The magician walked slowly down the steps and into the aisle between seats, each step accompanied by a click of his cane on the grund. In his wake chilled air touched those nearest him. The dim lighting of the theatre hid the black oily trail he left as he walked. Those same lights began to glow angry red, unsettling some of the crowd and causing the cheers to abate quicker than they had done previously.

A minute later, the magician was back on stage with his volunteer. He smiled at her intently for a second longer than was comfortable, the unease of which was amplified by the crowd's near silence. 'Won't you tell us all your name please, madame?' said the magician as he gestured to the audience. 'Erm, uh Molly' the woman responded. 'Hello there, Molly, thank you for agreeing to help me! Can we all say hello to Molly?'. The magician spoke in a tone which was somehow different to his friendly one from earlier. Not mean but rougher, slightly. The crowd seemed to contemplate as much, its response somewhat lacklustre. Unlike on previous occasions, the magician did not shout back 'I can't hear you!' as in a pantomime. This time he stayed looking out to the crowd with wide eyes. He clicked his fingers and a box, a bit shorter than a person, on a wheeled table rolled toward him, seemingly on its own. With intrigue the crowd watched on. Atop the box was a saw, and it seemed clear what the trick would be. Without saying a word the magician opened the box, like a coffin and produced a small step. 'My dear, Molly, would you be so kind as to come and get in my box?'. Compelled by the onlookers and the magician's presence Molly obliged, stepping into the box and laying down. There was a hole for head at one end, and another for her feet. As the lid was closed the magician lay a red velvet drape over the box which came all the way to the ground.

The magician paused, centre stage, and surveyed the crowd. He stomped his cane to the ground and the lights went out completely. There were no screams or any sounds from the crowd as one might expect, rather just silence. Dead silence. The only sound had been that of anyone standing falling to the ground. The magician snapped his fingers and the head of the middle person, of each row, was set a light in a blazing fire. The rest of the crowd were slumped and dormant in their seats, until the magician spoke: 'wake up my children, I have a surprise for you...'. Like zombies the audience members opened their eyes, vacant and expressionless facing filling the room. No one took heed of the few with burning heads, they all stared arrow straight at the magician, who drew the saw in front of his face and made his way to the front row. Picking the first person he came to, he drew the saw deep across a man's arm. The crowd sluggishly turned to watch as the magician held up the man's bleeding arm. Still no one reacted, even as a snake-like tongue slithered from the magician, wrapped up the man's bleeding arm and ripped it off. The man slumped forward as the magician again held up the saw in one hand, the arm in the other, and asked: 'shall we try it on our friend Molly?'. The crowd nodded, distant, as the magician took to the stage, striding towards Molly. Smoke from the burning heads was slowly filling the room and mixed with the flames to give a thick orange vale to the scene.

The sawing began with the wood of the box, until flecks of blood began to pepper the magician's white trousers. Stroke by stroke he sawed, his tongue lapping at the floor where a crimson pool was growing, all the while his dead-eyed audience watched on.

As the saw broke through the bottom of the box it clattered to the floor and the two halves slowly rolled part, Molly's head eventually the other side of the stage to her feet. For some in the crowd one eye followed each of those separate halves as they started to let out groans and grunts, and bang on their seats - the zombie applause. With his trousers nearly as red as his jacket, the magician grinned ear to ear and took a deep bow and began to chuckle to himself. With the rows of fire the scene resembled a tribal ritual, the magician commanding all. Grabbing his cane once more he smashed the tip into the ground. The burning heads extinguished, the room went dark and the silence was total this time. Some moments passed, the smell of ash penetrating all corners of the theatre and still silence pervaded, until that same smoke triggered a fire alarm. Sprinklers burst into life, emergency lights flooded the dark and the hypnotised crowd came crashing back to full consciousness.

Upon seeing the macabre scenes of Molly on the stage, the burnt heads and the man with a severed arm, the crowd exploded into screaming chaos as water rained down on them, washing away the blood at centre stage. As carnage and a mass exodus ensued the magician was nowhere to be found, but a tar black set of footprints stood just behind the indent left by his cane.