Trick

He thinks he's just slightly in love with them, the new troupe of magicians who's just arrived in town. They're a mystery of silky hair that swishes, dark compelling orbs and beautiful legs that men are rendered speechless by. 9 enigmas, all equally mysterious and beautiful. They go by the stage name of GG, as he's heard.

 

That night, he quickly buys a ticket to their show.

Can you say captivation at first sight?

 

The show starts with something subtle, nothing fancy-shmancy. At 10 o' clock sharp, the maroon velvet curtains close, quite silently, yet with quite a bit of flourish.

 

Has he mentioned that they close on their own?

He isn't the only one who notices, and soon, everyone's whispering and pointing at the curtains, it being their object of fixation. He seems to be the sole person who notices a gleam, reflected off a winking eye at the corner of the wide circus ring they perform in. On closer inspection, (he merely squints) he realises that it's a symbol. A logo, perhaps? It almost seems...malevolent, he thinks.

 

No, a little voice in his mind whispers.

Look closely.

 

He obliges, wondering if the mystical atmosphere is getting to his head.

The eye gleams again, and he could have sworn that there's something different about it. Something...playful, not unlike that of a trickster. He's caught up in his own reverie when a loud bell sounds, and they appear. There's loud clapping from all around him, as well as a few hoots and whistles. Only to be expected, considering their stage outfits. Seductive smiles adorn their faces, small smiles giving nothing away. It's only expected of them, really. They're stunning in an ethereal kind of way- they don't seem to be of this earth, he thinks.

 

Too beautiful.

 

A bang, the fluttering of rose petals, and the show officially starts.

 

Amazing. He has no words for his wonder, really. It feels like he's 5 years old again, that starry-eyed little boy so fascinated by magic, even as he's caught up in that whirl of frantic excitement that's emanated by the audience. It's a frenzy of wonder that people can only take in for so long before they fall to the floor in a dead faint. Which some do, unfortunately.

There are no words that can adequately describe the instant attraction and captivation. It's as instantaneous and easy as blinking, something natural. He hasn't talked to them, much less know their names, but he loves them already. He knows such a statement is ludicrous (and possibly delusional), but he couldn't care less about what other people think. That's also why his hand shoots up in a heartbeat once they call for volunteers for their finale, the disappearing act. 

(He wouldn't really mind disappearing into their world.)

One of them catches his eye, and he feels his world as he knows it collapse under his very feet. In that fleeting moment, he thinks that he would do anything for her. She looks away, and that link disappears. He's desperate to recapture it, and waves his hand even more vigorously in a valiant attempt to get their attention. 

"You."

The voice sounds out of nowhere, and he almost falls out of his seat when he realises all 9 pairs of twinkling orbs are trained on him. Playful, and not without a hint of...something else. He can't quite put his finger on it. His thought dissipates into a cloud of nothing when one beckons.

"Come."

 

The velvet tones of her voice leave him intoxicated. Obediently, he stands up and walks into the centre ring.

He remains silent, transfixed by the 9...beings in front of him. They steal a quick look at him, and a few muffle smiles behind hands as they watch the dazed expression on his face, the glazed look in his eyes. The tension amongst the audience gradually rises, as they watch the lack of action in the ring. They want action.

A quick assent is murmured among the 9, and they all turn to face him with blindingly bright smiles. Slowly, gradually, carefully, they form a circle around him, never taking their eyes off him. Their gazes are starting to make him just a little uncomfortable, and he fidgets. 

The leader, short, yet with an unmistakable air of authority, turns to face the audience. In sultry tones, she tells the audience to watch.

Very, very carefully.

Rejoining the circle, the 9 look at one another. Their gazes lock over his head, somehow (even though he's taller than all of them), and it's unmistakable this time.

Something is building up in the air.

Something so powerful that even the dullest of human senses is able to detect.

The audience senses it too. They shift uncomfortably in their seats.

 

The build up continues for a few agonising seconds, a gradual crescendo. The music, undetectable to human ears, reaches a fortissimo possibile.

(A/N: No, I did not spell “possible” wrongly.)

Boom.

The light is blinding and white, sears the back of his eyelids that close in a feeble attempt to protect his vision. It takes a few minutes for the agonising pain to ebb away, and he opens his eyes hesitantly.

 

He's rendered shocked, speechless, and just about any sort of emotion you can think of. It's a maze, not unlike those he spent most of his time in while still a child, a solitary child. (He had an unhappy childhood.)

 

He was (and perhaps, is) fascinated with mazes. The very thought of being released into the great unknown thrills his very core. The thought of not being able to escape ups the stakes a little more, and makes the game even more interesting.

 

He turns his attention back to his current predicament. He gazes upwards. The walls of the maze extend skyward, as far as he can see. He inspects the sides of the maze. It's a mess of foliage and greenery, species of flora interweaving and interlocking to form the world's most secure barrier. Well, no escape there then.

 

He sits back on his haunches, carefully considering.

 

At this point of time, he's established as much. This is not a hallucination conjured up by them, and he's being controlled by someone with a penchant for dangerous games. Panic bubbles in his throat, and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

 

Remain calm, he tells himself. Play your cards very, very, carefully.

 

He remains like this for quite a while, and he's shocked when a big fat drop of water lands with a splat on his nose. Looking up, he realises that clouds have gathered over the maze. Apparently, elements of weather exist here.

 

The rain starts pelting down in sheets, he's tired, thirsty, and more than a little scared right now. 

 

He decides to try another course of action.

 

Run.

 

And he does precisely that.

 

He runs, down the winding channels, around corners, down paths that don't seem to end. He skids to a stop abruptly, and gapes at one of them standing in front of him, framing the dead end that signifies the end of his hope.

 

There's a gleam in her eye, which he recognises as the one he saw emblazoned on the floor of the circus ring. Playful, with a hint of malice.

 

Malice.

 

Good grief.

 

There's no stopping the panic that overflows this time. He whirls around and runs, runs with all he's got. If possible, the rain has gotten even heavier, soaking his very soul. He comes to an abrupt stop once again at another dead end, this time with another one of them standing there.

 

He screams, blubbers like a little girl, and runs again. The cyclical pattern of running, stopping, and seeing-one-of-them is a devastating one that wrecks havoc on his mind, body and soul. They're everywhere, everywhere, blocking his means of escape if there was any in the first place and oh god he wants to go home like all this never existed in the first place why did he fall for the spell they casted.

His hysterical ramblings are punctuated by the occasional hiccup, tear, and of course, the thunder that rumbles.

All this time, the rain never stops, never ceases in its mockery.