Shivering in the evening chill I trudge down the dim dank alleyway, my boots splashing in foul sour-scented pools of what I can only hope is water. My clammy hands clutch at a small purple ticket tightly, my knuckles white as I grip the cheap plastic rectangle.
The alley itself is much like any other, graffiti and tags sprayed against the brick walls while large dumpsters force me to weave and squeeze my way down the narrow path. I freeze as I hear something squeak and skitter in the darkness, a flash of fur diving down beneath one of the dumpsters as a long pink tail thrashes about behind it.
A simple light sits a decent way up the plain brick wall at the far end of the alley, the squat and long broken green plastic revealing the fluorescent bar within. As I draw closer I cock an eyebrow, my gaze shifting over the plain brick wall in confusion.
"I could have swor..." I mutter, looking back towards the entrance to the alley. I bite at my bottom lip, wracking my brain as I try to remember what I had been told only a few days ago. Sure, I may have been more than a little drunk at the time, but I should have remembered a simple set of directions.
As I approach the wall something begins to stand out in the plain and simple red brick wall. An arch of bricks, still layered in the same pattern as the rest, fail to really blend in with the rest thanks to their slightly darker and muddy hue. Squinting at it, purposely blurring my vision, it almost looks like a door frame inlaid into into the brickwork.
With a little burst of speed I approach the wall, my right hand patting the bricks in search of something... different. However, despite seemingly having found the right place it still looks and feels just like any other wall. Before long I find something, a slight gap in the mortar at around waist height. Sizing it up for a moment I hold out the ticket, measuring it up as I read the overly dramatic and cursive text.
The Marvelous Mr Marigold's
Menagerie of Magical 'Mishaps'
Magician's Boxes - One Free Use
I would never have been in a place like the alley had it not been for a single drunken encounter less than a week ago. Unemployed, single and struggling to find ways to occupy myself beyond video games and applying fruitlessly for work, I had decided to waste away on a Friday out around town. Hovering from bar to bar, leaving and finding a new place to drink when 'Happy Hour' ended or the place became to crowed, I finally ended up at a cramped little dive.
While the narrow bar seemed so tight and oddly laid out that it would likely fail a fire inspection, it was perfect for hiding away while I drowned my sorrows. As I downed drink after drink I watched as regulars came and went, the bar staff knowing most by name as they served each one with a series of inside jokes.
Through the drunken haze my ear perked up as I heard the dark-haired and heavily pierced woman behind the bar slip up, my gaze snapping up as I watched what amounted to the only interesting thing to happen all evening.
"Hey Mad...thew..." the bartender spluttered, her eyes glazing over for a moment as her mouth hung agape throughout the pause. She almost looked dumbstruck, the woman rebooting as she looks at the remarkably handsome blonde man in his mid-twenties and the drunk brunette giggling and clinging to his muscular arm.
"Hey Cass..." the man crooned back, biting his lip as he shot her a wink. It as the first time I'd seen the pale bartender's face get any amount of color all night, her lips twitching into a faint smile as she poured the man a glass of red wine.
The man was tall and fairly well-built, with broad shoulders leading to a nice V-shaped torso. Her Spanish heritage was on full display with his complexion, warm and inviting it only complimented his piercing green eyes and made his light blonde hair all the more exotic. However, I was watched him take the glass of wine I couldn't help but notice something odd.
Around his wrist, where his hand met his forearm, there seemed to be a little seem. A clashing of skin tones that, while blending slightly where they touched as the warmer hue bled into the lighter, stood out even in the dim mood lighting of the bar.
With a whisper in his ear, the brunette bounced off, racing past me towards the restrooms while the man placed another order. After a few moments he approached my booth, a cozy little place at the end of hte bar and quite out of the way.
"Here by yourself?" he asked, his deep smooth voice like running off his tongue like honey. "Do you mind with me and my..."
"What's up with your hands?" I had muttered crudely, the man flinching slightly as he his eyes darted down to the glass of wine. He laughed nervously for a moment, his gaze shifting as he sized me up before finally sliding into the booth.
"Look..." he muttered, his voice low as he hunched over the table in the booth. He looked me in the eyes, his expression softening as his pale hand fished around in his pocket. "I've been there... really..." he sighed, fishing a little purple ticket out before placing it on the table. "Kids leaving home, husband..." he mused, pausing as he catches his own reminiscing.
With a deep breath he slid the flimsy plastic sheet across the table, the rings of water and spilled beer wicking off the waterproof material.
"Take this..." he stated, tapping the ticket with a pale finger. "Leave this booth to me and my... friends..." he continued, pausing only as the bartender passed by with a cute little blue cocktail before she placed it on the table with a wink. "Go to the alley between Green and Tailor street and give this to the door, I promise you'll feel like a new you"
I paused for a moment, my confusion obviously painting itself across my drunken face. Chuckling to himself, the man reached out as he forced the ticket into my hand before narrowing his eyes.
"I really must insist" he stated, his eyes darting to the restroom doors as the cute bubbly brunette staggered out. "I've been wanting to try this thing since I got it, so..." he muttered with a fake smile, standing up and out of the booth as he practically dragged me up along with him.
With a pat on the back I was pushed out into the bar proper again, the man gesturing for the brunette to take her seat while he slid into the booth along with her. Cursing under my breath and unable to find a new seat I simply shuffled off home, fidgeting with the ticket the whole way back.
Sliding the ticket into the small gap in the brickwork I hear a loud series of cracks fill the alley. With a sudden tug I feel the ticket got pulled free from my fingers, the bricks of the wall sliding back in alternating patterns as they slide behind one another only to vanish both from view and seemingly from the world.
A rush of air hits me as I'm bathed in a bright warm light, the alley opening up into an impossibly long room lit by gas lamps and chandeliers.
"Why greetings my good fellow" coos an eccentric voice, a looming shadow suddenly lurching into the doorway before taking a bow. "Mr Marigold Esquire, at your service" he chirps, each word dripping in an exaggerated showman styled accent.
As the man steps back, gesturing for me to enter, I get a better look at him. He is a large and spindly man, easily standing at over six foot five thanks to a large set of black platform shoes on his feet. His face is long and pale, a long twirled black mustache resting beneath his long hooked nose and a set of small copper framed spectacles. A set of light gray eyes peer down at me from his high vantage point, shadowed by the brim of his black and purple stripped top hat.
His suit is similarly styled, a deep royal purple jacket and pants with thin black pin stripes along with a light pink pocket square and the dangling silver chain of a pocket watch. His white shirt is ruffled to an insane degree, the fabric billowing out from the chest and at the ends of his sleeves like a cloud of cotton.
As I stare at him he catches me looking at the pocket watch, the fifty-something year old man patting it with a chuckle.
"It helps to get the riff-raff out of the store" he laughs, gesturing his hand as if her were to swing it back and forth. "Though I hope not to need it for a fine patron such as yourself. Now, come in come in..." he chimes, waving me inside as I slowly inch forward.
The building itself feels like an impossible space, the sides of the room expanding over the ends of the alley and into where the neighboring buildings would have been sitting. Not only did the sides feel wrong, but the depth was mind boggling to behold, the store seeming to extend out forever like some sort of infinity mirror illusion.
To my left, going down as far at the eye can see, sit a variety of magic trick equipment. Decks of cards, metal hoops, and even rabbits in cages sit stacked up and down a series of shelves punctuated with larger tables and saws for the more dramatic acts.
To my right sits a more grizzly sight, the image of which leaving me shrieking in shock. Racks upon racks of seemingly disembodied body parts hang in clear plastic bags or sit atop shelves, the limbs twitching on occasion as they seem to move by some sort of reflex. Each shelf and rack is labelled in an effort to describe the category of items, from shelves labelled 'Hair' and 'Genitals - Male' to racks labelled 'Arms' and 'Faces'.
Turning to run I soon find the bricks slamming back into place, the alley quickly escaping from view as wall is rebuilt.
"Don't want to let the cold out" Mr Marigold states rather plainly, his hand reaching up to his mustache as he begins to fiddle with the twirl. He peers down at me from behind his spectacles, a soft chuckle slipping from his thin lips as he notices my sheer terror. "Oh my dear boy, I see you weren't informed about our establishment" he sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder as he begins to guide me into the store down the central pathway.
"You see..." he muses, his mustache twitching as he tries to think of how to explain things. "Sometimes, magic tricks as you know them go awry" he states, pointing to a large box pierced by a dozen or so sabers. "The magic of the trick can get out of an inexperienced magician's control, leading to rather... interesting consequences."
I stare at the man dumbstruck, my eyes wide as I barely manage to mutter out. "M... Magic isn't..."
"Real?" Mr Marigold huffs indignantly, looking over to a set of top hats angled in such a way that rabbits fall from one and disappear into the other. "Good sir, why would they be called magician's or magic tricks if they weren't magical?" he asks, gesturing over to a series of wands bouncing on a table as they rapidly shift between being slender black and white stick and large bouquets of flowers.
With a tug at my shoulder he spins me to the right, my blood going cold as I find myself at the far end of the grizzly display of body parts. With a firm grip on my back he forces me down along the edge of the last set of racks, my stomach sinking as I spy rows of arms and breasts sitting in their little bags. Before long I find myself standing at two large sets of Magician Boxes, the stacked black cubes standing with small holes between them for a person to stand in.
"These..." Mr Marigold sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Cause oh so much harm when in the wrong hands. One missed gesture, a mistimed bladed, or just not spinning them enough times and suddenly someone is coming out of the boxes missing their hair at best or just vanishing entirely at worst."
The older man pats his pocket, feeling the silver pocket watch as he shoots me a look.
"Nothing a little hypnosis doesn't solve, but it can take months or even years to find the missing pieces again. I mean they could be sent to any box in the world, and many magicians aren't checking for feet in their equipment daily" he explains, looking out at the assortment of bags and shelved parts before giving a little smile.
"So..." he begins to explain, giving me a sheepish grin. "If we can't reasonably retinue someone with their... lost property we store it here so they can get some use. Many magician's like to use them to help build out their own 'professional character' you see" Mr Marigold explains, rolling his eyes and using air quotes in an exaggerated fashion. "I always preferred to use them to help build my marvelous assistants, a little perk of the job for the lovely ladies who helped me back in my performance days..."
After a short pause he flicks his wrist, producing the purple ticket I had place in the door before repeating the motion as it vanishes again.
"...You however, have been gifted one free session" he explains, gesturing to the many racks and shelves. "Most outside of the community don't get such an opportunity, do you perhaps have a family member who is a part of the pro..." he begins to ask, pausing and cutting himself off as he waves his hand.
"Never mind that..." he states, not letting me get a word in edge wise. "Simply pick out what you would like from the shelves and bring them to the boxes, once you're ready simply climb inside the empty set and I will start the show!"
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