Stealing the Magic

Charles Chesterton stared out the window of his second story office, looking out onto the city of Reno. The traffic was streaming by at a reasonable pace. It was a cloudy day in March. He had another performance coming up that evening. The pace was grueling. He focused on his reflection in the window. He was already in his tuxedo as he had afternoon rehearsals coming up soon. His hair was a mess, and there were large bags under his eyes. He looked like a worn out, middle-aged magician, who could use some time away from the stage. He walked over to his desk and poured himself a small taste of scotch. He needed to relax, sitting in his desk chair. The phone had been ringing off the hook this morning. It was a busy week and he was thankful for the few minutes of silence. He had been performing as a headlining magician for the last year and had built a fair amount of credibility in the area. Many of his tricks were original and other magicians weren’t able to duplicate his methods, even when they knew his secrets. At his current pace Charles Chesterton would rise to complete stardom by the end of the following year. His wealth was growing substantially, and his theater had even rewarded him with his own office and manager. He was the envy of many young magicians and street performers. Life seemed to be going well. But none of this mattered to him. The clouds outside his window were symbolic of how he felt. None of the accolades had brought him the satisfaction he so greatly desired. Sure, he found enjoyment and pleasure in all of his stardom, but it was not what he wanted. The magic was what he truly loved, and he wanted more. He wanted to feel the rush of a new trick. To have a new secret and to manipulate the mind of his audience is what mattered most. He did not care about the size of the audience. Leaving one person in wonder was just as satisfying as captivating a whole auditorium filled with spectators. These feelings were not new. They had been growing for the last few months and now seemed to be climaxing in his heart. He did not want to perform tonight. It would be another bored audience that was saturated with all the hype of the casinos. Many of them had probably already seen his show and most of his tricks. His manager always told him that he exaggerated everything in his mind and that the show was going great. Charles wished he could believe this.