One Hell of a Magic Trick.

[Babymullet Ver 9.8]

So I have finally have had enough mental genesis in my own head to come up with a good enough start to begin work on a revision of an old story while also coming up with a new idea for a story to begin and hopefully finish.

The old story I'll hopefully post in the finished section in a week or two as I improve it, but this idea here I just fleshed out a few hours ago.

I have a good enough snap shot of what I want to happen to make me have good hope that I'll be able to finish this story actually. The plot itself is simple, and reflects some of the current mental dilemmas I have, along with my own passion for all things magic.

As always I ask for your comments and constructive criticism, as most of my writing is done with little revision and done by the seat of my pants when I first post it. I have my own crtiques of my own so expect a difference when I post it in the finished stories section

Expect this to run somewhere about 5-8 chapters of about 2,000 words a chapter, short and sweet, although it may be longer.

But let us get to the story, this one takes place at a fictional place in the 1920's (TIME WARP!) The US has banned all alcohol, and to serve the liquor passions of the population an illegal trade of rum-running has sprouted up everywhere, a very profitable business of rum-running.

I'll be trying to make things as historical accurate as I can, using the slang of from the time, partly to make a good story, partly because it's more fun to write that way. Hopefully the style of writing isn't to annoying to read, as that is my current biggest fear with writing this way. But without further ado, on with the tale.

***

Some terms

Dicks: Investigator.

Bluenose: An excessively puritanical person, a prude, Creator of "the Blue

Nozzle Curse."

Big Six: all the way, complete, really big person.

Gam: A women’s legs.

John: Bathrooms

Flivver: A model T car, can also mean a broken down car.

Giggle Water: A strong alcoholic drink

Darb: A dependable person.

***

One Hell of a Magic Trick (1,739 words, 4 pages.)

***

Located a few blocks from Wall Street, far enough into the city to feel a bit untamed, but not enough for you to get whacked on the head just by dressing too fancy, sat a simple enough building. It was just three stories tall, made of stone, and to a passerby with no knowledge of the city night life, rather boring looking.

Every weekday, men in nice coats and hats came into the simple building. Some would drop by in the morning and have a hearty American breakfast, or have a cup of coffee as they read the paper at the restaurant inside. Some would come back for lunch and look out the large windows at the pedestrians on the street. Others got their hair trimmed at the barber shop located in the back; take an immediate right when you walk in, can’t miss it.

But, when the sun went down, it changed. Instead of walking up to the little building with a newspaper tucked up under the arm, the elite of the city arrived in style. The most expensive cars in the city would pull up, and instead of a coat and work suit, men would arrive in a full six tuxedo. Pop open the passenger door to have the most wonderful set of gams step out, attached on top of them was the prettiest gal in the finest fancy dress.

These elite were not here for a haircut, or a late evening dinner. No no no, they would walk all past that rubble, past the johns to another door. Three specially timed knocks would make a slat at eye level slide open, a brief verbal exchanged occurred and the door would open to a stairway leading down. Stairways that led to the most extravagant speakeasy in all of New Narakot

You see, beneath this simple little building was a network of caves; a lot of caves, in fact. Some caves large enough to fit, oh say, full bar and room for 247 people to comfortably mingle as they listen and watch live entertainment on the stage. My speakeasy was a place to forget all the troubles of the world and to kick up your feet and relax.

Well, technically, it’s not my bar. The boss holds all the deeds and such, and if the FBI or dicks come knocking they talk to him first. But, when the lights dim and I walk onto my stage, it might as well be mine.

The name is Harry, I used to be called Fingers but that was when I was a pickpocket and thief, now I am an entertainer of the highest caliber. I greased the wheels of every major business venture in the city, every politician who wants a fundraiser comes to me first, and any gang who wants to bribe a policeman they talk to me. But I wasn’t always the fine young gentlemen you see before you, oh no. I used to be quite the street urchin.

***

Prohibition was 8 years old by the time I begun to entertain the crowds at The Marigold. I was just a kid on the street when it started though, in a completely different town too. I remember the whole place swept up in a crazy fervor to get rid of all things giggle water. Even then I thought it was stupid, people will do stupid things no matter what, no need to make it profitable to make it easier.

My mother was a garment worker; I worked at a glass factory running back and forth all day for 20 cents. I don’t remember a dad; mum said he was hit by a train or something, never really bothered to check on the story though.

One day at the factory the owner’s daughter was watching us boys running the glass back and forth for whatever reason. While we would run by she tells us a story when she saw a magician at a show on Broadway and all the cool magic tricks he did. I had her tell me about the tricks so many times she got annoyed with me and left. I started taking stuff from people’s pockets soon afterwards and found out pretty quickly that I was good at it, real good.

I tried to show all the stuff I stole to my mother, but she freaked out and had a bunch of bluenose nuns come over and try to save me. When that didn’t work I was bum-rushed into an orphanage for messed up kids.

I kept working on my skills, stealing cookies and other things. I blamed other kids for the disappearance of stuff; it worked because I beat myself up and made it look like they took stuff from me. Still I had to get out of the place, I kept trying to escape and they kept whacking me with a cane when they caught me, began to happen so often I couldn’t sit down it hurt so bad.

When I was finally able to hop the fence, I hopped town too. I hitched on roads and sometimes got a ride from passing flivvers. One day I was walking along the road when I ran across another man.

He was a tall guy, with a wide brimmed hat. I checked his pockets to see if he had anything of value, but he caught me in the middle of the act. For the rest of the day, and most of the night, he sat down with me and taught every sleight of hand/trick/magic you could think of. The next day we parted ways, sounds weird I know, but like I said, people are weird.

I finally arrived a big enough city that I felt like I could stop walking away from whatever I was avoiding. My first day in the city my head dam near fell off from looking up at all of the tall buildings, people were dressed in nice, tailored clothes, and talked to one another without really caring what they or the other guy said. I also saw my first speakeasy that night, rather, just the entrance.

A couple was walking up to a side door, oozing money and wealth. I went to pick their pockets when I saw another man walk up behind them, whoever the guy was he must have been really important because the couple was near drooling just to be around him. I watched curiously as the man opened the door for the couple, a big six holding a big gun in his arms just beyond the door. Whatever was going on in that building, it made people rich and powerful, I liked the idea.

The very next day I was looking for a nice watch or purse to snatch. I picked what I thought was a good looking victim, but instead I picked the biggest mobster in the whole dam city, Mr. Eugene himself. Now instead of whacking me on the head and throwing me in the river like he normally would, he asked to see the trick again.

I did a different trick instead and had his watch end up tied to my shoelaces, he really liked that one. He offered to buy me lunch and a job as an errand boy; remembering the power I saw last night at the speakeasy I jumped at the chance to have some sort of better life.

***

Within three months I had gone from an errand boy to Mr. Eugene’s protégé. I was stuck to his side like glue as he showed me the whole works of the bootlegging operation. From the storerooms in the caves, to the armada of bootleggers that shuttled the bubbly, and even the moonshiners themselves, I saw it all.

I wondered why he was taking me along to all these trips; I was barely a teenager at the time. Until I realized one day that people say different things depending on if Mr. Eugene was in the room or not. It didn’t seem to matter if I was in the room or not though, I was as good as invisible.

I was the spy within our little mob; documents would go missing, only to be found on Mr. Eugene’s desk a day later. Conversations that were thought to be private would always find ways into my ears. It wasn’t very long till I got a rather sour reputation amongst all the guys.

The last bit of thieving I did for Mr. Eugene was pretty simple, one of the guys wanted to leave the group for reasons I would soon understand. I overheard some conversations and reported it to Mr. Eugene, who gave me a reward of some giggle water, something I never had before.

The man I spied on was brought up to the office, and upon seeing me and Mr. Eugene together he must have caught on real quick because he started to cry and beg. Can’t remember most of it because I was drunk, but the guy said something about a kid on the way when Mr. Eugene had one of his men just knock him off.

Right there, just gone, snuff. I went from drunk to sober in a few flat seconds, watching the blood ooze out of the guy onto the floor, so very dark. The next day I told Mr. Eugene that I was doing no more spying and that if he wanted to shoot me then so be it. He must have liked more than he let on because he put me up front in the juice joint, not spying but entertaining people. I was happy, good at it, and it pulled the Boss in more money.

So that’s the back-story of my life so far. For the past year or so I hosted the stage show at The Marigold, pulling the bands, the artists, the writers, and when all else failed I took the stage and performed my own sleight of hand. People sometimes just came for the show, and The Marigold went from just a simple juice joint to the finest establishment in the city. I felt pretty safe, the Boss wasn’t gonna knock me off after doing such a great job with the joint. It was stable, and I could keep doing it.

Course something just had to come along and mess it up.

~Fin

[MyWorld08]

WOW!! I love it. This is something completely different, an historical story set in prohibition times. I'm totally interested. I wonder how -if at all - diapers will play into it? Keep writing.

MyWorld08

[satyrical]

Not bad at all. You seem to have the language down-pat. Reminds me of stories from the 20s and 30s such as The Maltese Falcon.

[skinnypuppy]

You've really sucked me in. I'm on the edge of my chair waiting for more. Have at it !

The pov of a boy who's been f*cked over by life is really interesting, and how he gets to where he is by a combination of observation, practice and luck is quite intriguing. As I said, I'm anxious for more. Please ?

[Thunder]

It's really good- Although it's a bit difficult to focus with the TV on. =P

[Babymullet Ver 9.8]

So I'm nearing the completion of chapter 2, but as I was reading it aloud to check for errors, I realized the problem of having a guy with a nickname of 'fingers', here is a dialogue line I almost let through.

“Ah, is this the esteemed entertainer of the Marigold? Harry ‘Fingers’ himself?”

I laughed my ass off.

[Babymullet Ver 9.8]

In some ways, I love this chapter, in other ways, I hate. I have several key introductions and traits that I wanted to illustrated, but I had no clear vision on how to link them all together, so here's what I was able to come up with. I like the flow but not all the words. I'll re edit later.

So it's here we get to see some of the split that is Harry. I'll explain some of the interior of the characters when I post the next chapter to get your input on how good of a job I did writing about the people.

Also, this chapter is slow, I'll find ways to spice it up later. To those that make it to the end, I'll give you a cookie. I promise it will spice up by the next chapter.

Some terms:
Fire Extinguisher: A chaperone.
Palooka: Poor
boxer, or social outsider.
Bronx cheer: Similar to a raspberry.
Up and Up: Getting on the same level of a conversation
Ninker: Circus slang, multi use four letter word that’s six letters long.
Beat flap: Idle chatter
Cheaters: Glasses
All wet: All bad, all dry means he’s a good person.



One hell of a trick, The Glass Union. (2,265 words, 4 pages)

“Oh my gosh, it really is you.”

“Pardon” I said turning around to look at the voice; it was a man in nice enough work clothes. The elbows of the suit were pretty worn in, making it look like he sat at a desk all day during paperwork, probably a palooka to boot. He smiled to much for me to start liking him off the bat.

“Arthur Wilson, clerk, third grade of Union Glass.” The man said, offering his hand forward for a shake. I chewed on some bacon as I looked as hand, before reachin’ out and giving it a shake. He stood expectantly for a few moments, waiting for me to do a stage joke or a magic trick, even though I wasn’t on a stage at the moment, but instead eating breakfast. I sighed very softly and pointed to his wrist, where his watch was a few seconds earlier.

“Horsefeathers! Where did it go?” Arthur said loudly, gathering the attention of most people in the room. He blushed softly as I reached up to his ear and palmed the watch out of my hand. He took his watch with a gracious laugh and hobbled off with another, very happy grin.

I saw him sit down and show his watch to his friends as it suddenly became ten times more expensive. I grabbed some red sauce to put on my eggs. But it took awhile for the sauce to come out and I gave it a hard shake making half the sauce fall out of the container. I gave a quiet Bronx cheer as I watch the red sauce ooze onto the plate.

*BANG*

The body, it was a body now, stood standing up for a few moments before it feel sideways. It landed on its legs awkwardly, making it slowly flop around for a few seconds as a pool of blood oozed out around it in a circle.

“Harry!”

I snapped back into myself, looking over to see Elizabeth, the serving gal, looking at me with a worried look.

“My cooking can’t be that bad now, can it?” She said jokingly. I smiled half heartedly and shoveled the rest of the food on the plate in my mouth in one big bite.

“Ure kshoowing isst grreaut” I said with a full mouth. Elizabeth laughed and took my plate. Free food was one of the requirements I had for working the Marigold’s stage. I folded up my paper and got up, walking down the hall past the barber shop, 2nd door on the left straight on down the hall. I knocked a few times, not even bothering to look up as the guard opened the slat. Recognizing me quickly he opened the door.

Nodding in thanks I walked down the staircase into the caves. It got markedly colder and damp until I reached the heated section of the cave.
Many of the smaller caves that weren’t used for refrigeration were used for the big machines that kept the climate in caves a little bit more warm and comfortable.

Boss sat at the bar, a long plane of darkly stained wood built in the style of the old westerns you see in the new movies. Catching my eye as he was talking to some of his boys he waved them off and motioned for me to come over.

“What’s eatin’ you Boss?” I asked. His face irked up on something when I started talking to him. I planned for a place to dodge in case he was going to shoot me.

“I wanted to give you heads-up for tonight; the bar was bought out for all the Unions in the city.” Boss said to me.

“There’s enough Unions in the city for them to buy out the Marigold? I thought they all went hush-hush after the war.” I said.

“How else can they get worker’s right then buying out a speakeasy for a night?” Boss said with his salesman’s smile.

“I guess as much, thanks for the up and up boss.” I said, beginning to turn away from him.

“Why don’t you call me Eugene anymore like you use to? Everyone else does, it makes more of a family here, with what we do.” Eugene said.

“People change boss, what can I say.” I turned away to walk towards my stage, leaving Boss with his papers. ‘That and families don’t shoot each over a ninking disagreement’ I added silently in my head.

Weaving through all of the tables and chairs I cross the cave and headed over to the stage; giving curt nods to some of the guys who were moving things around the floor. I hopped up on top of the stage, my steps becoming slow and methodical as I listened to the echo. The sound of the wood creaking beneath me, the warmth of the lights making some of my hair stand on ends.

The stage was my home.

“Alright everyone, we got some Union members coming in today so let’s make them at home. Perhaps we should do everything in triplicate? Or maybe have our menus be 40,000 pages long?”

**

Glasses chinked merrily, voices mixed about to make a warm atmosphere, the sounds from the jazz music on stage making an ab-so-lute-ley great sound. Over in the corner a lively poker game was going on, the pot the size of the average family’s yearly income. Most of the tables had men in their dark suits and tuxedos at them, but the occasional dame was with’ em, though they stayed pretty close to their daddy. Most were of the gold digger type, but there were a few flappers in the group in their glad rags.

“Hey Harry, the dance folks are looking for a break, think it’s a good enough time to do an intermission?” One of my stage assistant said to me. I looked at the clock on the wall and did some metal juggling before giving him a quick nod.

“Sounds good, I’ll hop out after this number and do some table hops.” I replied. I gave myself a once over in the mirror before I maneuvered myself to the edge of the stage out of sight of the audience. The troupe on stage flung themselves silly on the stage for a while before ending in a contorted figure. The roll of applause made their strained faces break out in smiles; I strolled out onto my stage and motioned for them to take a break

“Gentlemen, welcome to The Marigold!” I said with my arms outstretched. There was a polite round of applause. “We’ll be taking a quick break up here on the stage, but you don’t have to worry, the entertainment tonight is in better stock than liquor, the darn rum-runners union keeps asking for benefits.” I joked. A peal of laughter echoed out as people resumed to beat flap. I walked off the side of the stage and mingled with the higher ups in the front of the club.

“Oh Clara, I want you to meet this lad.” One man said, turning around and suddenly grapping a flapper from the crowd. A lovely dress of white contrasted with the curls of red hair on top of the lady’s hair. Dark green eyes knocked my brain out of its pan and it took me a moment for my body to begin moving again.

A young lady stood in front of me, her stance blazing with confidence, a hint of a smile after seeing my reaction. The man to her side kept talking but I wasn’t paying a single bit of attention. There was a sudden silence and I realized that he was waiting an answer from me.

“I’ll answer that in a moment my friend, but first I have a request of the lovely lady here.” I said. “Baby, I am in need of an assistant for one of my tricks tonight, and magic is always better when a beautiful lady such as yourself is involved, can I count on you for your assistance tonight?” I asked smoothly, diverting attention from my blunder.

“Oh applesauce! I would love too!” Clara said, clapping her hands in joy.

“Very well, I will ask for you when I get on stage, so be ready.” I said, she dashed into the crowd and found another young lady and the two of them whispered and looked in my direction. “Now what was it you wanted, Mr…?” I gave a quick look over the guy for the first time; he had a simple build and face, with wire rimmed cheaters giving him a smart look.

“Williams, Carl Williams. It’s of no matter really. You just my daughter’s night with that request, she has been acting rather down lately, and I thought a night out would do her well.” Carl said warmly.

“Hmm…most fathers would blow a six to find their daughter here. They send a fire extinguisher with em’” I said jokingly.

“Well it’s not as if any work is being done here, this is just a show of wealth
from the unions, what money they have left. I’m not that worried about tonight.” Carl said rather flatly. “No morals here anymore.”

“How so Mr. Williams?” I asked.

“Please, just Carl. Take that man over there, you can’t miss him, he’s huge, and all wet. Jonathan Steinman, biggest ass this side of the river, more ways than one.” Carl hissed with clenched teeth.

“What’s his poison?” I asked, I realized that I was falling into my old spying habits and kicked myself to change the topic soon.

“The man advocates for child labor.” Carl said, shame in his voice. “Rumors say you used to work at a glass factory when you were a boy.”

“No idea there were rumors about me out there, but let me tell them out. I would shuttle glass back and forth between smelters; a quarter mile each way, 100 trips each night. For 20 cents.” I said, my feet aching from the memories of all that running over uneven ground salted with shards of glass and bloody footprints. My stage assistant caught my eye and I quickly turned to Mr. Williams and offered my hand.

“You sound like a good man Mr. Williams; I hope to be seeing more of you soon. For now I must go and prepare for my show.” I said.

“Ah, nice to meet you and good luck.” He said.

“Pfft, who needs luck when you got magic?”

**

“Hmm…where did that card go? Did you see it go anywhere Ms. Clara?” I mimed confusion as I put my hands on my hips and looked around the stage. A few people in the audience laughed as it appeared that I had messed up on my trick. I didn’t of course, I made a, supposedly, random card disappear from the deck. Clara had held on to the deck and with a snap of my fingers I was supposed to make the card turn face up in the deck.

In reality the card was in my back pocket, and a special plant was in my sleeve ready for the drop. My assistant had come up with the mechanism; the man was brilliant but a huge stage fright, so we made a good team.

“Oh wait, there it is.” I said, pointing to the back of Clara’s dress. She tried to move her head to see where I was pointing, and automatically began moving around as if she could see her back by rotating. When her body covered most of my arm a small dart flew out and a safety pin stuck in her dress and closed itself due to some additional torque.

It was a brilliant device that most people didn’t notice on the stage since they were more concerned about how the audience was thinking than an itch on their back. The only issue was that the people in the far right could see what was happening if I moved too slowly, but their table was also closest to the bar, so they could barely see what was in front of them by the time I took the stage.

All the audience saw was a card attached to a safety pin on the back of a dress that wasn’t there before. I reached out and detached the pin from her back, unable to help myself I turned the grab into a caress and ran my arm up her shoulder to place the card in her hand. Her face lit up as she showed her card to the audience, the same one she, supposedly, randomly picked. The audience began applauding; Clara turned around and kissed me on the cheek. I began to flush and a rush of emotions came running out of my head.

*Bang* Body dead on the floor

*Smack*The cane impacting flesh, I began to scream

*Crunch* The sound of glass breaking, my footstep turning into a wet mush of blood

*Kiss* So soft

The next thing I remembered I was on stage alone, the vague vision of me leading Clara off the stage very fuzzy in my head. I stood in the middle of the stage with my hands in front of me, ready to move into my next trick.

Nothing.

My mind ran around in circles as I tried to remember what to do next, the cave went completely quiet, someone coughed in the audience. I realized my hands were shaking. A different feeling came up, something that was completely different and took me awhile to realize what it was.

I was nervous.

[Babyjames5]

I'm curious to see how and if you are going to tie this into being an abdl story.

[Babymullet Ver 9.8]

So finally got around to writing another chapter of this story. I've been very busy with school, work, and planning some community events. Thankfully things have slowed down to a more manageable level.

So anyway, we begin to see the main character start to fracture a bit here. For the past few years he's been content with having two types of personalities, one just for the stage, an entertainer. The other for off the stage, kinda cold, really doesn't care. Course, he has to adapt to the current world, otherwise it would be a horrible story.

One hell of a trick, glass bullets. (2,200 words, 4.5 pages)

I stood in the middle of the stage, nervous to move. The lights blinding me enough that I couldn’t see the audience but in my mind’s eye they all were silently laughing at me. I put my arms down at my side very slowly.

Hiss…

Oh crap, the cane-

With a pop a three foot cane shot out of my sleeve and hit the stage with a crash. I jumped away from the cane in surprise as it was some sort of a snake. This movement made my other concealed cane turn on inside my breast pocket, making the darn thing hit me in the jaw. All my other gimmicks decided to turn on right then, and by the time I stopped flailing around the stage the two canes had been joined with several silk handkerchiefs, two doves, and a crossbow bolt.

Waves of laughter flowed over me; I meekly smiled and took a little bow, a small flower sprouting from my back pockets. ‘When you screw up, just go with it.’ I thought to myself. To the audience this was just a simple magic joke; surely they didn’t think I screwed up.

“What do you call that, you little twerp? That isn’t magic boy!” A drunken voice shouted onto the stage. My mind, backed into a corner, reacted faster than I wanted it to. It took the haggling comment and spat something right back out.

“Shut up you jackass of a hypocrite!” I shouted. The cave went instantly quiet, the kind of quiet that happens when you shout at boss, the guy in charge, or someone who has far more money than you. I mentally swore and just walked off the stage.

My assistant reacted quickly and sent out the dance troupe, they picked up the slack quickly enough and the regular Marigold atmosphere returned soon afterwards.

“What the hell happened out there?” My assistant asked.

“I blanked, it happens.” I lied, other people may blank, but I don’t. I felt
completely different over…something…I dismissed the idea of being nervous, it seemed rather stupid to me.

“That may be fine, but you do not blank and then insult the head consol for the Unions! The one who bought out the entire bar!” My assistant shouted.

“Ah, so that’s who that was.” I wondered aloud.

“Yes” Boss said “That is who that was.” I turned around to see Boss holding a pistol in his hand, his face a mask of rage.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bump you off for embarrassing me as you did right then.” Boss said. I was quiet for a moment, my head sortin my options on the table. I looked over at the gun in his hand and got a spark of an idea…but it was something I had never even practiced, or considered to tell the truth…

“Because I’m going to let him shoot me.” I answered. Boss and my assistant’s face turned to confusion as I turned around and headed back out on the stage. I walked right into the middle of the dance troupe and one of their numbers but continued anyhow. The dancers stopped moving as they saw me, before deciding to head off the stage.

The band played for a few more moments until they fell silent, a lone violinist playing for a while afterwards until he realized that no one else was playing, the noise ended with a squeak.

“Who was it that wanted to see a magic trick?” I asked aloud.

“I did.” A gruff voice shouted back. I gestured with my arm to an empty spot on the stage next to me.

“Will you please join me on the stage?” I asked. The scruff of a chair moving on the floor, heavy footsteps making their way across the chamber; the man entered the light of the stage and I had the first change to look at him. A brute of a man, easily 6 foot if he was an inch, probably that wide from the looks of it too. He easily could tip the scale at the 300 pounds mark. A flash of memory made me realize him as the man Carl had pointed to me earlier, Jonathan Steinman

“May I see your gun please?” I asked. Steinman’s eye widened, clearly not expecting such a question.

“It was checked at the door, no weapons at the Marigold.” He said in his rough voice.

“I know how misdirection works, Mr. Steinman. Give me the gun you didn’t check at the door.” I asked again. We made eye contact for a few moments before he reached into his coat and brought out a gilded revolver, placing it in my hand.

The gun was truly a masterpiece of steam age art, engraved with the images of cowboys riding on horses and other Americano images, the artwork alone must have been a few months’ pay for me.

“A fine weapon Mr. Steinman, a fine weapon. Could someone in the audience toss a marker up onto the stage?” I asked aloud as I examined the gun more, testing all of its actions, and removing all the bullets from the chambers. A marker clattered onto the stage, I bent down to pick it up; handing the gun and bullets back to Steinman.

“What I would like you to do Mr. Steinman is to write something secret on each of the bullets, I’m going to plug my ears and close my eyes so you can explain to everyone what you are writing.” I said. Without asking for confirmation I turned around and stuck my fingers in my ears and slammed eyes closed. I heard a few muffled bellows but couldn’t make much of anything out. A tap on my shoulder made me turn around.

“Could you now load the bullets into the gun?” I asked Steinman. Instead he looked over the gun to see if I had tampered with it in anyway.

“I didn’t tamper with such a fine machine; can you verify that for the audience?” I asked in a slightly bored tone. Steinman looked over at the audience and gave a slight nod as he loaded the six bullets of the gun into their chambers.

After he loaded the last bullet, I turned around and walked to the other end of the stage

“Now as fast as you are able to Mr. Steinman, I want you to shoot me with all six bullets.” I asked calmly. A gasp went out through the audience, one was a little higher pitched than others and some part of me knew that it was Clara. Steinman looked at me in utter confusion.

“I’m sure you know how the world works Mr. Steinman, if you don’t shoot me, someone else will. All six bullets, as fast as you can please.” Steinman looked down at the gun and flexed his fingers a few times before raising the gun and pointing it directly at me. The cave was completely quiet.

“Abra Kadabra” I whispered. With a flurry of finger movements Steinman fired off all six shots in a second. My body rocked with the impacts, finally getting launched in the air on the sixth bullet. With a crumple I ended up on the stage, the cave was still as quiet as a grave.

I heard a few scrapes of chairs on floors, rushed footsteps, I felt a hand around my neck checking my pulse before I decided to end the drama and push myself up. A man next to me yelped in surprise as I opened my eyes and stood up.

I walked over to Mr. Steinman and held my two closed hands in front of him.

With a bunch of drama and flair made the motion of opening my hands above his outstretched palm, five separate bullets falling into his hand. I took a half step away before turning back and spitting a sixth bullet out of my mouth.

“If you check the writing on the bullets, you will find that they are the same bullets you fired Mr. Steinman.” I said to him calmly. He turned the bullets over in his hands and nodded very slowly.

“They are…” He said softly.

“Good enough of a magic trick for you?” I asked, turning around to walk off the stage to thunderous applause.

**

“This be the place Harry.” Said Jimmy. Jimmy was a new kid in the gang, Boss musta hired him not but a few months ago. He was a few years younger than me but was a whiz with cars and engines. He could take apart a full six and reassemble it, but somehow it would work better and make things go faster, he was popular with the rum-runners.

I would sometimes come to him with the idea of a trick or gimmick that
needed some fine construction or engineering. His mind would go on all sixes and by the end of the day I would have a new device in my room. It was more impressive than any trick I saw, mainly because the things on stage you expect to be large and impressive, but Jimmy was just a kid, which made his skills all the more amazing.

Back to me though, I looked through the paperwork earlier in the morning and found where Carl Williams lived. A part of me kept whispering stalker as I went through the motions of my old spy routine to find all the information. I shrugged off the thoughts with a heavy thought and had Jimmy drive me to address I could find.

“Looks to be it Jimmy.” I said to him, hopping out of the car and looking up at a simple enough building on the outskirts of the city. It appeared that no one was home, but there were very few windows on the building. I sighed gently and took a few steps before shaking in my head in mock humor at my own actions. Driving halfway across towns to talk to a girl, what’s happening to me, I wondered to myself.

“Looks like you’re carrying a torch with ya Harry.” Jimmy said with a chuckle.

“Well at least I’m given it a shot.” I said, my voice having the smallest edge of nervousness. Jimmy noticed it pretty quickly and looked at me in his thinking face.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re nervous.” He said plainly.

“No I’m not.” I said.

“I’m being level with you. You’re stage self is never nervous, but look at last
night. Can’t be the normal you, he’s mostly a cold-hearted fella.” Jimmy said very honestly. His words stopped me in my tracks, Jimmy was a very honest person, probably because the most social thing he dealt with on a daily basis was an engine, which either was broken or working.

“You make it sound like there is two of me.” I said off-handedly.

“That’s what the others say.” Jimmy said. Now it was my turn to put on thinking face.

“The guys in the shop said you changed after you stopped spying for the boss. They started talking about you when you quit, figured you wouldn’t sneak around anymore…”Jimmy started to talk before he realized what he was saying and petered off. I took a deep sigh and rubbed my temples.

“It’s okay Jim, you did nothing wrong. I’m not going to force you to tell me anything, but if you, it will remain between us, you got it?” I said, looking him directly in the eyes. He nodded to me eagerly, the way kids do when they’re promised candy. Even though I was only a few years older than him, and young myself, his smile made me feel very old all of the sudden.

I struggled to find another vein of the conversation to stall me knocking on the door, but things were never so easy.

“You two gonna finish talking and come inside or what?” A voice sang out. We turned around and looked up to see Clara standing in the windowsill, a smirk on her face. My cheeks flushed and I gestured to Jimmy, as if that could have words spring from my mouth.

“Fine, I’ll come out.” Clara said, dashing from the windowsill. I looked over at Jimmy, who just shrugged in response. We stood around like awkward lemons waiting, the front door opened and we quickly began looking very busy staring at something, Jimmy was fiddling with a knob on the dashboard, I was watching the fiddling.

“So what brings you here Harry?” Clara asked, smirking at us again.

“Umm…I was wondering…This is my friend Jimmy.” I said suddenly, pointing to Jimmy who had been oogling Clara but suddenly found himself once again fiddling with something on the dashboard.

“Hello Jim.” Clara said with a small curtsy

“Hi!” Jim squeaked.

“Right, well. I was…wonderingifyou wouldliketo spendthe day with me.” I said in a hurried rush. There was a pause long enough to fit an elephant through.

“Sure!” Clara said, hopping in the car’s backseat. Jimmy and I shared a ‘what the heck happened' kind of look before he started up the car. I hopped in the back seat with Clara and the three of us drove back into the city, waiting to see what the day could bring.

~Fin~

Kudos if you can figure out how it was done.

[audio file]

pretty good I like it so far keep going