A Kind Of Magic

Daniel Paulson didn’t usually go out on a Thursday night, but having had a tough week at work, he decided he deserved a night out. He would start the weekend early by a few pints in the local pub. 

When he got there, he found the place was packed. Maybe Thursday night was the new Friday night. As the barman was pulling his pint, Daniel asked if every Thursday night was this busy.

‘Only the past few weeks. There’s an act in a bit.’ 

He pointed to the poster on the wall behind him. A magician, the Great Jackie Ringo was due to perform at eight o’clock. The drawn picture was of an old-school magician with a top hat and flowing cape. Daniel nodded to himself, this could be a good evening after all.

Forty minutes and two pints of beer later, a guy stepped onto the small stage in the middle of the room. He wore a tracksuit top and trainers. He took the microphone from the stand and asked if the crowd were ready for the main event of the evening. People clapped and whooped. 

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a big Nag’s Head welcome to your favourite and mine, the Great Jackie Ringo.’ He waved a hand in the direction of the bar. 

A man dressed as an old-fashioned magician appeared from a side-door. He really looked like something from an old school circus show. He had a wand in is hand, a long overcoat, and a purple top hat tilted on his head. 

He was remnant of a performer from years ago, really old fashioned. He was pale, very thin, with a goatee beard. Daniel sensed that this performer was either going to be the greatest magic act he’d ever seen, or he was going to be awful, so bad it would be hilarious. If it was a good night, he’d have to invite his girlfriend Debbie along. 

Just minutes into the magic act, Daniel sensed the act was going to be so awful it was laugh-out loud funny. He ordered himself another pint, and perched on a stool at the bar to watch the show. 

Jackie Ringo pulled out a pack of cards, and fanned them dramatically, declaring that he would now perform card tricks that would blow their minds. Minutes later, when he asked a woman if this was her card, and she said no, the whole pub erupted in laughter.

‘Is this a joke?’ Daniel called out. ‘This can’t be serious.’ 

The magician fidgeted with the playing cards, his cheeks burning red, and tried again, offering the woman another card. She shook her head, sorry.

‘What time is the magician on?’ Daniel hollered, to laughter from the other customers. The host of the show, glared at him in disapproval. 

The magician did manage to get some of the tricks to work, a coin disappearing and reappearing and a trick with someone’s mobile phone, getting it to ring on cue from the guy’s mother in Australia. When the tricks turned out right, Daniel would clap slowly, with sarcasm, well done. 

Daniel was having a great night. This was just what he needed. He took every opportunity to heckle Jackie Ringo. He would call out at every chance, mocking and sneering. He was having a great time, trying to get a laugh out of the crowd at the poor magician’s expense. 

As the act went on, more and more of the crowd laughed along with Daniel, jeering and calling out.

As the act painfully came to a close, the magician took a bow.

‘And Jackie Ringo? What’s your real name?’ Daniel yelled.

‘Jack Richmond.’ the magician admitted, with a shrug, to the amusement of the crowd. 

Jack grabbed his top hat and his wand, and with tears in his eyes, dashed from the pub. 

The host of the show marched over to Daniel.

‘You shouldn’t have done that. There was no need for being nasty. There were people from the BBC in tonight. You have just ruined his chances of getting a television deal.’ The host said.

‘Come off it, he was awful.’ Daniel insisted.

‘That’s your opinion, mate, but he’s been going down a storm here over the past few weeks. That was until you came along.’

‘He’s normally really good when he gets going, to be fair.’ The barman agreed.

The next morning, he was mulling things over as he got ready for work. He’d had a really good night. And he’d definitely have to get his girlfriend Debbie to come out on a Thursday night. Had he gone too far with the magician, as the guys in the pub had suggested? Perhaps, maybe Daniel had played up to the pub crowd, and got carried away, but the magic act had hardly been Derren Brown, had he? 

As he showered he decided maybe he’d been a bit over-the-top with the performer. If Jackie Ringo was performing next time Daniel was in there, he would make a point of being more encouraging. He might even by the would-be magician a drink. 

He stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist. He reached for his toothbrush. He stared in confusion at the item. Rather than his toothbrush he was now holding a black and white magician’s wand. A wand like the magician had used the night before. 

He gasped and dropped the wand, sending it clattering to the sink. When he looked again, lying in the sink was his blue toothbrush. Daniel sighed, that flaming magician, and continued getting ready for work. 

By the time he was travelling home from work that evening, he had all-but forgotten about the magic act and his questionable behaviour towards him. He drove his way home, glad it was Friday, and mulling over his plans for the weekend. He turned the corner onto the street where he lived in a three-storey flat. 

He slammed on the brakes. There was something in the middle of the road. He stared out the windscreen, startled. Could that be what it looked like? In the middle of the road, blocking his path, was a top hat. The hat was a distinctive shade of purple, and Daniel recognised it immediately.

He swore and slammed on the accelerator. The car darted forward and hit the purple hat with a satisfying thumping sound. Daniel looked in his rear-view mirror. The hat was tossed up in the air, spinning over and over. 

There was a strange sound like a bubble bursting and suddenly the road behind him was filled with thick purple smoke. Seconds later when the smoke cleared, the hat was gone. 

Unsure if he was losing his mind or just over-tired and seeing things, he slowly continued down the road.

He arrived home and climbed up the flights of stairs to his third floor flat. He kicked the front door shut behind him and sighed, thank goodness it was Friday. A nice weekend with Debbie was what he needed. A meal out somewhere, maybe. 

He hung his coat up, and flicked on the lights. As he went through to the living room, he crossed to draw the curtains. The living room light spilled on the glass pane. He stared at the window in shock, his heart pounding. 

A playing card was stuck to the glass. He reached out a hand to the card. The Joker card was stuck to the other side of the glass. How was this possible? He lived on the third floor, so it would have been a tricky task to place it there. He knew who was behind it. 

However he had managed it, the magician had clearly decided to play pranks on him, in revenge for Daniel’s heckling. It was so freaky. It also meant that this Jackie Ringo feller knew where he lived. 

He swore to himself and shut the curtains, before making a cup of tea and trying to forget about the strange things going on. It had to all be in his head, didn’t it?

The next morning, still in the jogging bottoms he wore in bed, he went straight to the living room window. Feeling sick, he carefully pulled back the curtain and peered out. He sighed in relief, the playing card was gone. There was nothing on the window. Outside he could see the Saturday morning world, everything as it should be. There was the post-woman making her deliveries, the red bag over her shoulder, and two sisters that lived over the road walking their dogs. All as it should be. 

That afternoon, he called Debbie his girlfriend, asking if she fancied going out for a meal that evening. Of course she was up for it. He told her she could decide where they went. 

The waiter at the Royal Toby ushered them across the busy restaurant and showed them to their table. Daniel smiled, this was just what he needed, a lovely meal and a couple of glasses of wine in a fancy restaurant. It would be just the ticket. 

Debbie ordered them both a starter, some fancy dish with an unpronounceable name, and of course, for their main meal, they both ordered the steak. This place cooked your steak to perfection. The waiter left them and went to place their order with the kitchen. Daniel sipped his wine. They clinked glasses, to us. 

The waiter returned a while later with two cloches on a tray. He played a cloche in front of each of them. He removed Debbie’s cloche and then Daniel’s with a flourish, telling them to enjoy. 

Daniel glanced down at the plate. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He slammed the cloche back down over the plate and jumped to his feet.

‘Is this supposed to be funny?’ He demanded, pointing to the table.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I don’t understand. If you’d like something else-’

‘Very good. He’s put you up to it hasn’t he? The wand and the playing cards fanned out on the plate.’

The waiter looked puzzled and lifted the cloche.

‘I’m not sure to what sir is referring.’ The waiter said.

Daniel glanced down. On the plate, the cards and the wand was gone, replaced with the fancy starter with goat’s cheese and salmon.

The waiter left them both to it, and Daniel sat back down.

‘Are you okay, love?’ Debbie asked.

‘I don’t know, love. My mind’s been playing tricks on me recently.’ Daniel sighed. 

‘You need to relax, unwind a little.’

He nodded, maybe stress was causing the strange hallucinations.

They next day a flyer was pushed through his door. Daniel picked the leaflet up with trembling fingers. The Great Jackie Ringo was performing in the local social club that evening. Doors opened seven-thirty. Daniel decided it was time to sort this out once and for all. 

He arrived at the club just after half-seven. He told the barmaid he was here to speak to the magic act, if he was around. She pointed to the door marked private at the end of the bar. Daniel thanked her and marched across the bar. He was quite unsure just what he would say, but he wanted the strange tricks the guy was playing to stop.

He opened the door and went straight inside.

Jackie Ringo was going over a trick involving a wand and a piece of rope. He turned to face Daniel and tipped his hat.

‘Good evening, the show starts in ten minutes.’ Jackie said. ‘But, judging by the other night, magic isn’t your thing, or is it just my act you have a problem with?’ 

‘I want you to stop all this.’ Daniel said. 

Jackie simply smiled.

‘You are doing this because of the other night, aren’t you?’ Daniel asked.

‘Magic is a hard business without somebody heckling. It ruins the mystery.’ Jackie said. 

‘These cheap tricks have to stop.’

‘It’s no cheap trick. Magic is a craft, an art. Magic and illusion goes back hundreds of years.’

‘You’re a charlatan.’ Daniel said.

‘It’s a kind of magic.’ 

Anger washed over Daniel. Everything seemed to erupt in him. He slammed a hard fist into the magician’s face. Jackie tumbled to the floor, blood spilling from his nose.

‘Leave me alone. Do you hear me?’ Daniel yelled.

Daniel stormed from the social club, still raging, and completely panicked by everything. He called Debbie and said he needed to get away for a few days. She suggested they go to North Wales for a couple of nights. Their works would be fine if they booked the days off as holiday.

And so, they set off for Porthmadog, a picturesque Welsh town they regularly took breaks in. Daniel nodded to himself as they wound their way through the hill-roads of Snowdonia on their way. This was what he needed. A break away, to clear his head, and put all the nonsense with this magician feller behind him.

They pulled into the camp site and parked up in the space beside their allocated caravan. As they were dragging their bags from the car, Daniel spoke.

‘There’s something about rain on a caravan roof, so relaxing.’

‘Good job, really, as it’s always pouring down when we come to Wales.’ Debbie said.

‘It’s the same as back home in Manchester, maybe the rain just follows us.’ Daniel laughed. 

Once they had hung up their clothes and stashed their toiletries in the bathroom cabinet, Debbie said she’d love a cup of tea. 

‘We’ve nothing in. No tea-bags or milk.’ He said.

When Debbie’s face fell, Daniel got to his feet. 

‘You finish up here, and I’ll pop to the campsite shop.’ He offered.

‘Deal. And don’t forget the chocolate biscuits.’ She said. 

He returned ten minutes later, with carrier bags filled with milk, tea-bags, biscuits and bread and jam for the morning. As they sipped their tea and dunked their biscuits, Debbie gave him a nudge.

‘A bloke knocked on the door earlier. We’ve won two tickets to the show tonight in the entertainment centre.’ She said. 

‘What’s the show?’

Debbie grabbed the tickets from the work-top and studied them for a moment.

‘It’s a magic show.’ She said.

‘What?’ Daniel asked, a feeling of dread in his stomach.

‘Yeah, it’s a magician.’

Panic gripped him. 

‘What was the person like who gave you the tickets?’ He asked.

‘He was a pale guy, very thin. Dressed in a long jacket and purple top hat.’ 

Daniel closed his hands, made fists, to stop his fingers from shaking.

‘But we didn’t enter any competition so how can we win free tickets?’ He asked.

‘That’s what I said to him.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said, it’s a kind of magic.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom