Wonder
The elderly man clutched the phone next to his ear, his face a mask of concern. “How long is he going to be there?” he asked, his voice low to avoid drawing attention from the patrons wandering into the nightclub. He listened, then said “How’s he holding up?” A pause, then he nodded. “That’s right, it’s tomorrow, isn’t it? I’ll put together something for him. Something special.” The man, his eyes weighed down by tired bags, closed the phone, then slipped it into the pocket of his worn sport-jacket. He surveyed the nightclub he managed. The dim room held a sparse crowd, listening lazily to the half-hearted music produced by a second-rate guitarist on stage. The manager shook his head, as if that could shake away thoughts of the phone call he’d just finished. “The show must go on,” he muttered. He went backstage and spotted the night’s next performer: a tall, youthful figure in faded velvet and crimson gloves. The manager approached the magician. “All right, kid, you’re up next,” he said. “The crowd’s thin; they’re not expecting much. Do your best, okay?” The Magician adjusted his top hat and grinned, the smile reaching his piercing blue eyes. “Don’t worry. They’re in for… something special.” The guitarist wound down his lackluster act and shuffled off the stage without a word. A bored emcee appeared, barely glancing at the sparse crowd scattered across the dingy room. Under the weak, flickering spotlight, he droned into the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen… uh, please welcome… the Amazing Alex.” His voice held the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list. A few stray claps echoed weakly, drowned by the slurred laughter of a drunk perched at the bar. “Oh, great,” the drunk jeered, swaying slightly. “Another rabbit-outta-the-hat clown!” The magician mounted the stage. He bowed deeply, holding his pose for a moment, before straightening. He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Good evening, ladies and… well… mostly gentlemen.” The heckler belched, waving his drink dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So what you gonna do?” The magician’s jovial smile didn’t falter. “Actually,” he said, his voice dropping into something conspiratorial, “I’m not going to tell you what I’ll do.” The audience stirred, some leaning forward in their creaky chairs. “Instead, you—” he swept a hand toward the crowd—”are going to tell me what I’ll do!” A ripple of murmurs waved through the room. The heckler snorted. “What a joke,” he slurred. From the back row, an aggravated voice called out, clear and cutting. “Make that guy shut up!” The magician’s smile widened mischievously. “Granted!” he said, and with a snap of his fingers, a puff of smoke erupted around the heckler. When it cleared, the drunk was clutching at his throat, eyes wide in surprise, his lips moving but no sound escaping. The crowd laughed and offered a smattering of claps. A bold voice from up front shouted, “Eh, he’s just a plant!” Alex perked up and grinned. “A plant, you say?” He snapped his fingers again, and another puff of smoke surrounded the drunk. When it dissipated, only a potted plant sat on the barstool. The crowd laughed and offered appreciative applause. “Who’s next?” asked the Magician. The Bold Guy leaned forward again. “Twenty-five grand! Right here!” He slammed his hands on the table in front of him, the force of the gesture causing some of his beer to slosh over the rim of his glass. “Sorry,” the magician replied with a playful smirk, “only one trick to a customer!” The Bold Guy grumbled a bit, but his protest soon petered out. Alex turned his gaze to a dejected-looking young couple nestled in the corner, their expressions as dim as the nightclub. “You, ma’am,” the magician called, his voice smooth. “A penny for your thoughts!” With a flourish, he pulled a copper coin from her ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. The woman began hesitated. “Well… that guy’s trick sounds good to me. I owe 25K in student debt. It’ll take me ten years of waiting tables to pay for the useless degree I bought. So…twenty-give grand, right here.” She tapped the table. “Granted!” The magician closed his hand around the penny and a cloud of smoke swallowed it. The audience gasped, eyes wide with anticipation. “There you are!” he announced proudly, extending his hand to give the coin to the young woman. She stared at it, bemused. She nodded, as if she’d known all along that the Magician wasn’t for real. “Great, a penny,” she sighed. “Thirty thousand more and I can make next month’s loan payment!” She examined the coin a bit more, then announced, “It’s not even the right color!” This last observation drew the attention of her boyfriend, a numismatist, who took the coin and scrutinized it with the attention of a neurosurgeon. “White penny. Steel. Minted in 1944. Rare as hell. Even a circulated one of these goes for thirty thousand!” he exclaimed, excited as a kid on Christmas. The young couple’s spirits transmuted to confused hope. The small crowd buzzed with curiosity. Alex noticed the shift, sensing the electric energy building around him. He had their attention now, and knew from long experience that he’d keep it for the rest of the show. “Who’s next?” he asked again, scanning the audience for the next willing participant, his eyes eager.His gaze fell upon another couple, who looked like they could be newlyweds, their spirits not dampened a bit by the bleak surroundings. The young woman hung on to her beau like a life-preserver. The fellow spoke confidently. “True love,” he said, paying his girlfriend a flirtatious wink. “We want true love.” Alex’s face softened. “True love, eh?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a deck of cards, fanning them out with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Pick a card,” he said, extending the deck toward the man, who hesitated only briefly before pulling a card free. “Show it to everyone—except me, of course.” The man turned the card around for the audience to see. Laughter enveloped the room as the crowd recognized the Queen of Hearts. The Magician held out the deck to the young man. “Back into the deck, please.” He shuffled the cards with a flourish, the cards whirring between his fingers as he riffled through them. “Now,” the magician said, lowering his voice theatrically, “let’s see where love takes us!” He snapped his fingers. A spark jumped from his hands. He pulled out a card with a grand flourish. “Your true love,” he declared, handing it to the man. The man flipped the card over, revealing the Two of Clubs. He frowned, visibly disappointed. He shook his head. The magician raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear!” Alex exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. “I think I’ve made a mistake!” Then, after letting a dramatic pause pass, he turned to the woman sitting next to the man. “Perhaps the queen of your heart should check her purse?” The room’s spirits rose in expectant murmurs. The woman blinked, confused. “My purse?” “Yes,” Alex insisted, gesturing toward her bag. “Have a look.” With a bewildered expression, she reached into her purse and gasped. Slowly, she withdrew the Queen of Hearts, taped to which was a small velvet box. Her hand trembled as she opened the box to reveal an engagement ring inside. The audience burst into applause as the woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes!” she cried, turning to her stunned boyfriend. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” The man looked genuinely astonished. He stammered, then grinned lopsidedly. He turned to Alex, who gave him a wink. He remembered his old mentor, Orion. “Magic isn’t about fooling people,” the old wizard had said, “it’s about creating a sense of wonder.” Alex surveyed the crowd–small, but starry-eyed. “Thank you, Orion,” he silently said. The manager approached the magician as the last of the crowd, bubbling with chatter about the show, trickled out of the club. The magician was packing away his props, carefully placing them into a small leather case. His velvet coat hung loosely off his shoulders. His eyes still twinkled with the residual thrill of the evening’s performance. “Hey, kid,” the manager said, lighting a cigarette. He glanced around the emptying room with a frown. “You did good out there. Real good. I don’t know how the hell you did that ring trick, but… they ate it up.” Alex smiled, but didn’t stop packing his gear. “The best tricks are the simplest ones,” he said cryptically. “But what about Tommy?” the manager pressed. “Tommy?” “The drunk,” explained the manager. “Where’d you hide him?” “Ah,” replied the magician, grinning. “He’s someplace…safe. A bit confused, maybe, but he’s all right.” The manager thought about pursuing the matter, but let it pass. A generation of experience with a generation of stage magicians told him that asking about the tricks was useless—illusionists never explained their secrets. “Listen,” the manager continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “how’d you feel about doing another show? You’ve got a booking here as long as you want.” The magician shook his head, his movements deliberate. “Sorry. Only one show to a venue. A promise to my master.” The manager exhaled smoke, letting the silence linger before chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you. I’d hightail it outta this dump if I could!” Alex smiled, then returned his attention to his packing. The manager hesitated, as the germ of an idea dawned upon him. He flicked the cigarette away. “Hey, how about… doing a birthday party?” The magician raised a curious eyebrow, his interest piqued. “A birthday party?” he repeated, his tone neutral, but a hint of curiosity creeping in. The manager nodded, pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket. He fanned them out—the crisp twenties crinkled. “I can make it worth your while.” The magician glanced at the money, but remained unmoved. He started to turn away. “It’s not about the money,” the manager added quickly, his voice dropping lower. “It’s…my grandson.” Alex paused, looking up at the manager now. Something shifted inside him. “He could really use a boost, you know?” the manager continued, his whole heart behind his words. “He’s angry about…a lot of things. I thought… maybe a little magic… might lift his spirits.” He sighed deeply, as if the world was burdening his shoulders. “His birthday’s tomorrow. He’s turning eleven.” “Maybe,” Alex murmured, “tell me more.” As the manager described the gig, the magician’s grin grew wider and wider. The children, glad for a chance to escape the boredom of the hospital’s pediatric ward, sat eagerly at the cafeteria’s tables. Some of the children—the less infirm ones—even bounced in their seats, awaiting the arrival of a man the nurses had called “the Magician.” The anxious waiting was interrupted by a pop, a cloud of smoke exploding in the corner of the room. When the haze cleared, there stood the Magician, his faded velvet coat hanging a little loose on his frame, an open, friendly smile spread across his face. A nurse standing nearby blinked in surprise, mesmerized by the Magician’s materialization. One little girl, frail but awestruck, whispered, “Where’d you come from?” Before the Magician could respond, a sharp voice erupted. “What’s the point of this?!” The speaker was a boy, his head bald from treatments. He glared at the Magician with eyes far too old for his eleven years. “It’s bad enough that I have to stay in the–” he made air-quotes with his fingers “—children’s ward. But they really think I’m gonna feel better by some caped dimwit pulling rabbits out of hats?! Puh-leeze!” The Magician met the boy’s fierce gaze with a steady calm. “No rabbits or silly hats here,” he said softly. “Just a humble entertainer, trying to make a little magic, if you’ll let me.” The Awestruck Girl chimed in again: “What tricks are you gonna do?” As if on cue, the Magician bowed. “Actually,” he said, taking on his practiced conspiratorial tone, “I’m not going to tell you what I’ll do. Instead, you—” he swept a hand toward the children—”are going to tell me what I’ll do!” The boy was unimpressed. His eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said. “You wanna do a trick? Okay. I wish for a brontosaurus. Let’s see you do that!” His voice dripped with sarcasm. The Magician’s lips curved into a smile, but there was something deeper in his gaze now, something that shimmered with both understanding and a trace of sorrow. “Granted,” he said. With a flourish of his hand, he snapped his fingers exploded with a small flash. The beast was the size of a cat, but otherwise it looked like a denizen of Jurassic Park. The children looked on in astonishment as the tiny, toy-sized brontosaurus meandered at the boy’s feet, staring befuddled at the floor, its dull eyes searching for a patch of grass. The boy eyed the mini-dino with a skeptical gaze. “Cool hologram,” he laughed acridly. But the boy’s mouth fell open when he reached out toward the gentle beast and his finger met a solid skin that felt like leather. The brontosaurus flickered, then vanished. “Unfortunately,” the Magician said, “the hospital doesn’t allow pets on the ward. But I’ll see that he’s waiting for you at home, when–” “Make me better!” the boy blurted, a flash of hope—raw, desperate hope–suddenly blazing in his eyes. He clenched his fists, his voice trembling as he said, “Make me better! That’s what I want! I wish to be better!” The Magician looked stricken; his smile faltered, he winced with pain. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “but… one trick to a customer.” The boy’s face crumpled, tears springing to his eyes. Silence hung over the room for a long moment. The Magician, his heart heavy, turned again to the Awestruck Girl, whose wide eyes were still gleaming.With a soft smile, Alex said, “A penny for your thoughts?” He drew a penny from her ear and offered it to her. “What trick would you like to see?” The girl looked up at him, her small, pale hand reaching out to take the penny. She thought for a moment, then looked over at the boy, her expression as gentle as velvet. “I like his idea,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She glanced back up at the Magician. “I want… for him to get better.” Now it was the Magician who was awestruck. He searched his memory—which spanned more decades than anyone would believe—for a moment where a request had inspired him with such wonder. People’s wishes, especially grown-ups’ wishes, were usually so…small: money and status, pep in their love lives, an occasional demand for raw power. The magician felt a singular thrill of cheer as he raised his hand to snap his fingers. “This might just be my best trick ever,” he confided to the girl in a stage-whisper. Credit: Tim Chambers Ko-Fi Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.