Nanoprep 2023 Day 4: Presto!
By Robin de Voh on 2023-10-05
Hearing "They can never find out," is one of the earliest memories I have of my sister. "If they do, they'll take you away and bad things will happen to you, and maybe even us."
I was too young to understand what was going on, but I remember understanding that I should do what she said, or bad things would happen. So I did. She was normal, at least according to the world around us, and I was not. As I got older, I learned what the problem was, and why I stand out so much.
I was the only one in my family who couldn't cast Magic spells.
I was the only one in the city, probably even in the country, if you could believe the government. And being born without Magic was a capital offense. So my sister was right, nobody could ever find out about my birth defect, or I might actually be put to death.
My sister tried to teach me simple Magic, but I just had no knack for it whatsoever. She supposed I probably didn't have a 'fount' of Magic inside of me like everyone else. And, according to her, that was akin to being soulless to the rest of Magic-using society. So I had to hide that fact. Like an unwanted soulless demon, hiding from the light.
When my sister was near me, however, she would surreptitiously cast Magic on my behalf to trick others. This is how my parents didn't find out, and how I could dodge enough awkward situations at school that there weren't that many questions. I had, according to teachers and classmates, shown I could do Magic often enough.
They just all thought I was shit at it.
This included my parents, who then decided to spend as little time with me -- the family disappointment -- as was legally possible.
But then my sister remembered something she had heard once at school, that before Magic use was the norm, there were those who would do magic 'tricks'. They weren't Magic, but they were magic-like. Maybe that could keep attention away from me when she couldn't help me, she suggested. I nodded and agreed. Why not, right? Anything to not have to depend on her completely. So the next day she asked her history teacher if there were any books on it, and was told that the school itself had none, but the city central library might.
She glided over there, leaving me at home, and only returned 4 hours later. She had scoured everything she could find, but they weren't clearly categorized and even when she did find some, they were in absolute tatters. Nobody seemed to care much about these century-old books. Real Magic had taken its place.
That evening, we went through the first of the short stack, and it was mostly card tricks. Interesting to start with, because it would teach me sleight-of-hand, but it definitely wouldn't fool anyone into believing I could do Magic. Coin tricks, kind of the same problem, but already better. Next book, levitation, making items appear and disappear, using flash powder to 'conjure fire'. That was more like it, even though I had no idea what flash powder was.
Thankfully the book had an addendum at the end, which showed how to make your own flash powder. This would be interesting, I thought. This was a good idea. My sister asked if I had enough to get started, and I said I did. I started practicing like you wouldn't believe.
I pulled a coin from my sister's ear a mere 3 weeks later, and she could not tell me how I did it. Then I made a mug disappear into a hat, which she was both confused and enthused by, and let out a yelp when I made it return.
Note that this is a girl who can literally make a flower grow from her hand with Magic, or pick up and levitate a dog without ever touching it, but because I was doing something she couldn't explain because it wasn't the Magic she knew, she was wide-eyed and very pleased by it.
That may have been the purest response to my 'magic' I would ever get. She knew I couldn't really use Magic, but was doing magic tricks purely with skill, and she would be the only one to ever know, since from then on, I was basically pretending to be Magic towards anyone who was part of my life.
And for years, that went well.
It didn't convince my parents I wasn't shit at Magic, but they basically went 'I could do that when I was 2 years old' and then kept ignoring me. Good enough.
I could finally go out on my own and not have to always have my sister tag along.
I loved her, but as I grew older I wanted some independence as well.
I turned 30, however, and everything changed.
I was with some coworkers, having a drink after a nasty project had finally been finished, as well as my birthday. It didn't take long before I was no longer sober enough to perform my tricks cleanly. I was playing with a coin absent-mindedly while a coworker was telling a story, and was making it appear and disappear over and over again.
I really wasn't thinking about it, but without me noticing it, another coworker was looking very intently at what I was doing.
I had shown a coin trick not too long ago, and they all thought it was cute. 'Baby Magic,' they called it. But I had to show them some small things from time to time just to keep them off my back about real Magic.
But then I slipped up, and after making the coin disappear, it fell from where I was hiding it and clanged onto the table loudly.
"Holy shit," the coworker suddenly shouted. "He's faking it," he continued while standing up suddenly, pushing his chair back with some force.
"What?" the coworker who was telling a story responded.
"He's not Magic! He's been faking it! I knew it!"
I just stared at him, coin stuck in place, not knowing what to say. Frozen in place. It had happened.
All of them looked at me, wide-eyed. I looked back at them, also wide-eyed.
"Uhm," I started, but the coworker who'd initially shouted suddenly leaned forward.
I swallowed slowly, which was hard because it was like whatever was in my throat had turned into a brick. I started to feel sweat forming on my forehead. This could get ugly.
"You..." he trailed off as he looked around somewhat nervously.
I held my breath, fearing what was about to come.
He lowered his voice even more, and then leaned in even further.
"Could you teach me that trick?"