Time Away , Establishment of Terror

The Magician (Pt. 1)

"Come on, Harold. Everyone loves my act. I would of gotten into the Magic Castle if they weren't so full of themselves." Marty Durben also known as Michael Gemini leaned back in his seat, glaring at his manager, Martin Foster from across his mahogany desk.

"Marty, your act is a third string performance. Other magicians are stepping up their game. If you don't put new illusions in your act then they will cut you from the schedule." The balding manager leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes almost black as he reached into his desk, retrieving a cigar from the top drawer. Pulling the rolled stogie from his desk he brought it to his lips, flipping his lighter to ignite it. He exhaled deeply, biting the end of it.

Marty leaned back in the chair, fingertips gripping the leather arm rests hard. Standing up quickly he shook his head side to side. "I swear I am onto something great. Better then you could possibly imagine." The rotund magican looked at Harold, trying to supress the scowl that began to form across his lips.

Moments later he stepped out of the office and placed his hat on the top of his head. The tension finally released from his shoulders and he dropped down, the sensation of hopelessness washing over him. He had to find an act and fast. He was tempted to call his ex wife, Pamela who was once his show partner and bestfriend. Their relationship was great in the beginning, but started to go down hill with the limelight. These things tend to happen. It wasn't his fault…at least thats what he told himself.

Fishing out his phone his thumb pressed over the side to unlock it. A picture of himself and Pam came up, illuminated by the phone's backlight. A smile spread across his, a sad wistful grimace. Once again the urge to call her, the sensation to reach out rose in his chest. He swallowed and ran his tongue along his crusting lower lip. The image was taken on his honeymoon to Belize. He shoulders trembled as he stared down at it. The screen he realized was badly cracked, the digital clock had stopped.

Well that isn't possible. The whole thing was computerized and digital, but here it was staring the robust man in the face, mocking him. Brushing it off he found her number, pressing the call button. Placing it to his ear he heaved a long sigh as it rang. A mingling of relief and disappointment rolled through him when the answering service greeted him.

"Pam, Its Marty. Things are great I swear…the check will be a little late, but I promise to have it soon. I have a new act." He was lying through his teeth and knew she would too if they were actually speaking. Marty hoped thar maybe, just maybe she might believe him even a little hearing it on the machine. After he hung up he found himself infront of a shop he didn't remember seeing before. It was ornate and looked like it had been there for years. In the window were pocket watches, lined up in a neat row. One of them in the center caught his attention, it was bronze with the etching of an eclipsing moon. It struck a viseral cord deep inside of him. Before his brain could comprehend he found himself opening the door and crossing the threshold.

Sweet opera music greeted him on the victrola, the scent of sandalwood tantalized his senses. A man stood dressed in old fashioned Victorian garb, with top hat stood behind the counter, giving him a calm smile. On the top of the counter that stood out was a ring in a small glass display, a little card under its wooden stand that proclaimed that it wasn't for sale.

"Good evening, sir. My name is Aleister Corviston. Welcomw to my shop." With that proclamation he removed his top hat and gave a slight, polite bow, his smile concealed by his hat. Marty just stood there with his hands at his sides observing him. What was the man's accent? British? Irish? No, he couldn't quite place it.

"Uh, yeah." The portly man rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I saw the pocket watch in the window. Well of course that's what you sell. It was the one with the eclipsing moon. My phone is acting wonky and I have always loved the old timey watches. I don't see any prices…" his voice trailed off from his diatribe, gazing at the strange man behind the counter.

"Of course. These watches I have crafted myself. They are all very special, and have a sort of magic to them. You look like a man who knows exactly what I am talking about." Aleister commented as he moved from around the long display case, gracefully across the store to the window.

"That's kinda funny. I'm actually a magician you know. Performed in all the clubs in the area." He replied, eyes fixed on the shop owner as he reached into the red curtain backdropping the front display and pulled out the bronze watch.

"This one is one of my favorites. I call it Krono's Folly, but perhaps it will give you luck in your upcoming show." Aleister's words rang strange to Marty, but his focus had fallen onto the pocket watch, resting now in his palm. Marty gazed at it, feeling a humming vibrating through his fingertips.

"How much?" Marty's voice was shaking unable to take his eyes off the eclipsing moon.

"The watch? Oh hold onto it for now. We will discuss payment another time." Aleister replied, watching him with eyes, unreadable. Marty closed his fingers around the watch unable to believe his fortune might be looking up.

(Author's note: Hey. I know I'm just getting this anthology off the ground and would like to know if you are enjoying it)