Street Magic

S Seese Taylor

Description

Flynn Newman is a young street magician who struggles to make ends meet. One day, he crosses paths with Harper Paige - a mime who has made an oath to stay completely silent for five whole years, hoping to earn the attention of some of the most prominent people in show business. Together, they will slowly learn what it means to follow your dreams, stay true to yourself and... what it means to love somebody...

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 mai 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528957205
• Langue: English

Extrait

Street Magic
Taylor S Seese
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-05-31
Street Magic About the Author About the Book Copyright Information
About the Author
Taylor S Seese is a Polish writer interested in psychology. In his writing, he likes to explore themes revolving around the human psyche, as well as issues concerning interpersonal relations and various intricacies that come with them.
About the Book
Flynn Newman is a young street magician who struggles to make ends meet. One day, he crosses paths with Harper Paige – a mime who has made an oath to stay completely silent for five whole years, hoping to earn the attention of some of the most prominent people in show business. Together, they will slowly learn what it means to follow your dreams, stay true to yourself and… what it means to love somebody
…
Copyright Information
Copyright © Taylor S Seese (2019)
The right of Taylor S Seese to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528901895 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528957205 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ

On the 15th of November, everything was going the same way it always did. No changes. I woke up early, ate a quick breakfast in a form of a yogurt mixed with some stale cereals, put on my black leather trench coat, and then quickly got out of my home accompanied by the loudest door shut possible.
My daily walk to my workplace wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either. The sound of my heavy boots tapping against the pavement was dominating over other noises of the street and I was occasionally receiving looks of confusion and fascination from random passersby. Nothing seemed out of place.
The only thing I could really consider different from the norm was the fact that the trunk I was carrying felt a little bit lighter. This sort of change was actually pretty welcome though, even if it was caused by something I’d rather would have never happened.
You see, two weeks ago, I had to sell my top hat and few other items, so I could afford a hair dye. I know it may not seem like it, but it actually wasn’t a bad investment. Looks are really important in my profession. The more mysterious you look, the more people get drawn to you.
I don’t want to sound too cocky, but I’m proud to say that so far, I’ve been pretty good at making sure my image is as quirky and bizarre as possible. It’s kind of amazing what dark leather clothing, mismatched socks, a t-shirt with a stupid print, piercings all over the face, and a little bit of eyeliner can do to a person. With all of these, I was looking like a complete alien. The only thing left, that still made me resemble a human being, was my hair.
Exactly two weeks ago, I tried to dye it to complete my transformation into a total weirdo. I chose the most intriguing color I know—purple. I was going to give myself some nice highlights, but I somehow managed to mess it up and my hair ended up looking like a chestnut and purple striped zebra.
Normally, I would get pissed and curse at myself. But then again, I was trying to dye my hair to look more ludicrous. The oddity of my new hairstyle was actually perfect for the image I was going for. It doesn’t matter if I look good, just as long as my appearance is drawing attention.
To be honest, this whole dress-up thing has always seemed quite fun to me. I’d even go as far as to say I actually enjoy making other people feel confused and bewildered by my looks. In fact, that may have been one of the many reasons why I have decided to choose my career. Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved to create a certain persona and try to pretend to be him or her.
The only problem with my act is that other people are only able to see me as a weirdo. The character I’ve created is like a one-way mirror between me and them. All they can see is a stupid-looking man in his late twenties, who has made some really poor life choices.
When I arrived at the park, everything seemed pretty normal as well. People were casually strolling through the paved paths and the birds were tweeting as a reminder that the hour was still pretty early. I set myself up next to a fountain in the center of the park’s plaza.
This is my favorite spot to perform in in the entire park. A round plaza located next to an old stone bridge decorated with way too many ornaments. It’s surrounded by numerous small ponds, where various species of hungry and loud birds tend to steal my most valued audience from time to time. I usually set up my ‘stage’ under a giant willow tree. It provides a rather nice and refreshing shadow during the hottest of summers. That said, the comfort of the shade is not the reason why I chose this spot in the first place.
My main motivation to start performing here was actually a humongous water spitter in the middle of the plaza, decorated with tons of fish, seahorses, mermaids, snakes, and a naked old guy with a trident in his muscular hand, standing on top of all that sea-themed mess.
The city council likes to call this monstrosity ‘the fountain of Neptune’. I prefer the term ‘tourist trap’…
The gallons of smelly gooey water coming out of pretty much every single sea creature’s mouth attract many kids and tourists to this part of the park. And kids, in particular, mean that my performances are always guaranteed to have a large group of audience.
I don’t know why, but there’s something special hidden in every child’s heart, that makes them fascinated by magic tricks, regardless of where and how they’ve been raised. Their parents can take every single bit of their childhood and crush it in front of their eyes, but it still won’t be enough to make their beliefs disappear. They’ll cling on to them as hard as they can, because magic and fairy tales are like a promise of something much better. It’s their very own realm of innocence, where no troubles of our world exist. They don’t have to worry about their parents screaming and arguing, their classmates making fun of them or any other kind of struggle they have to go through on this brutal earth.
Unfortunately, these lands of dreams don’t last forever. Kids keep floating in their imaginary worlds full of tooth fairies, Santa Clauses and Easter bunnies, until their parents suddenly decide to put them back on the ground. Then, most of the children have to accept the cruelty of the real world and start focusing on their futures. There are some kids that desperately try to save their little kingdoms from falling into ruins, though. They attempt to rationalize all of their beliefs, look for the tiniest sherds of evidence, that would prove their parents are wrong and the world is still the same beautiful place where kindness and empathy are generously rewarded and all of the big bad wolfs get banished or torn into pieces. Some simply decide to deny what their parents are telling them.
But despite all of these efforts, not all of them succeed. Only some children are able to save their imaginary worlds of promise and stay true to their beliefs. I was lucky enough to be one of those kids.
The mind of the little me thought that if a neatly dressed gentleman at my birthday party can pull a living rabbit out of his small top hat, then there sure has to be some place for miracles in this world.
I think this is why I’ve always liked magic so much. The idea of a world full of wonders felt so astonishing and beautiful, I began to become more and more interested in performing. That’s probably also why, despite all of their efforts, my parents were never able to get the dream of becoming a magician out of my head.
When other teenagers were fantasizing about being as famous as Britney Spears or Justin Timberlake, I was picturing myself on a stage performing stunts of Houdini and Copperfield. I remember that at some point, I was even saving money for a straitjacket, but no shops in my hometown had one in stock.
I was trying to perfect every single illusion there was. From easy card tricks, to basic escapology attempts with handcuffs. My parents were really worried about me, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how can a mother not get upset when her child is risking their physical and mental health by trapping themselves in a variety of different pieces of furniture? I may have been mad at her for taking my props when I was a child, but now realize it was nothing more than her maternal instinct protecting me from danger.
The mothers in the park are different from mine, though. They let their children watch my show with no fear or hesitation. I guess they’re okay with it, because their kids are still in that age considered to be ‘appropriate’ to believe in magic. Or maybe they love to send them to me, because it’s the only way to get these little demons to stop running all over the place like wild monkeys…
A band of hyperactive youngsters interrupting every time you try to present your next trick may not seem like the best kind of audience, but I actually enjoy their company quite a bit. Whenever they finally allow me to do my job, the subtle hint of curiosity in their eyes after I perform a trick is the greatest reward I could possibly receive for my efforts. It gives me hope that there still may be some dreamers left in this world. All in all, they are definitely better spectators than workaholics too busy to appreciate