I always wanted to be a magician’s assistant.

The magician astounded the children, waving colorful scarves over his hat, pulling out frightened looking animals and discarding them under the table. The children’s chubby hands grip the velvet rope, gummy with candy and dirt, tiny shell fingernails on soft, scarless hands. His wide, red grin an insane Cheshire cat, coiling on his face; a Greek god ejaculating a universe into existence, he brought an egg from the air, throned on his grey glove. White and pearly and important, It flickered, reappeared, danced on his hat, his wand, his hand. he loved it, kissed it, then cracked it on a glass.

Wide eyed, they watched the magician at his table as he deftly split the halves. A segmented leg pried its way up, shouldered out. Antenna springing from the albumen’s amniotic restriction. Lurched forward and dropped into his glass.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in childhood, fiction, supernatural, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s