Magic Man

Chapter One Reluctant as I am to begin this tale on a sour note, knowing how a reader likes a cheerful story, I nonetheless must report that on that particular Sunday evening in 1928 I was five weeks short of the time my father's curse would kill me. On that evening in question, arriving on the pier in Venice, California, wearing my dad's fancy tux, desperate for rent money, I was in trouble as only a young fellow can be in trouble when he's closer to dying than he is to living. My cousin Megan, a witch who knows of such things, says there is always a way around a curse. All I had to do was find that which cannot be found. So there you go. A little optimism. Find what cannot be found. No problem at all. What's that you say? How do you find something that cannot be found? Well, that's the problem, isn't it? But not to dwell on these things. I am here to tell a story, not to make you feel all miserable, although a little sympathy for yours truly wouldn't be out of place, I don't think, since what I am about to relate doesn't always put me in the best light. Better to get you feeling sorry for me right off the top, I would say. That way, farther down the line, you'll be more willing to overlook my considerable shortcomings. My first customers happened along a few moments after I set up the small sign I'd had specially painted. It's not every night a fellow shows up on the pier in white tie and tails. It's like my dad always said, you look at a man in a tux and everyone sees a gentleman---and everyone takes a gentleman seriously. They had to be sisters, ten and twelve I would say, not great prospects, but better than nothing. They looked like they'd just been ironed, and they both had dark hair done up in luxurious ringlets, cheeks rosy, and eyes bright with fascination, willing to believe anything. Well, just about anything. "You really a magic man, like the sign says?" asked the older and more forward of the two. "Why would I say such a thing if it wasn't true?" I demanded, adding the twinkle to my eye. "Don't I look like an honest fellow to you?" "Not exactly," said the older girl. I chose not to take offense, for if the truth were to be told, I am not such an honest fellow. But that's the point, is it not? To convince folks you are what you aren't. "On this pier they don't allow us to tell lies," I reassured her. "You are in luck, for I am indeed a magic man. Brae Orrack by name, magic man by trade and inclination. What's your name, sweetheart?" "Pauline, but I ain't your sweetheart. Mom says I'm too young for sweethearts." "Right she is about that," I said. "And what about your sister here?" She was the smaller of the two, and shy, given to gnawing away at her knuckle as she stared up at me through thick eyelashes. "How do you know she's my sister?" "That's why I'm a magic man, you see. I know these things." "Then you should know her name," Pauline replied reasonably. "It's Annie," I said. The eyes of the little girls grew larger, and the revelation had the effect of drawing Annie out of her shyness, and even convinced her to cease gnawing on her knuckle. "How did you know?" Annie asked. "Magic," I said. And good eyesight that allowed me to see the name on her charm bracelet. But they didn'tBase, Ron is the author of 'Magic Man', published 2006 under ISBN 9780312328092 and ISBN 0312328095.