A great commotion shook our humble town that day. It would’ve been an ordinary Sunday morning, if it weren’t for all those giant and colorful signs scattered around, seemingly announcing the arrival of a mysterious personality: a man by the name of “Dante, The Vast”. Everywhere I looked, I saw his dazzling blue eyes staring at me through his purple mask. “Guess who’s here? Dante The Vast, better get here fast!”. I felt a giant crowd gathering close to us… desperate running and impatient chatter clouded my senses as I finally discovered where all the ruckus was coming from. A massive boat, stationed by the dock… We got closer and were able to get a better view: dozens of elegantly dressed bodyguards escorted a man as they descended into the crowd, that man was undoubtedly the source of the disarray. To say his clothing was extravagant, would be a giant understatement, it was outlandish, yes, maybe even ridiculous depending on who you ask, but through it all, he was dressed absolutely stunningly. Dark green overcoat with an exquisite white shirt and black bow tie underneath. Dress pants matching the color of his jacket, with black leather shoes and gloves to make it a wrap. That man could’ve been any other pretentious celebrity, if it weren’t for that distinctive purple mask covering his face, leaving only his blue eyes and small lips visible. I had never seen a crowd so big, everything about his presence felt like a once-in-a-lifetime event. It was all so sublime, he was just so… vast.
The morning fog was thick, and you could just barely see him, but regardless of the circumstances, nearly the entire town gathered around to welcome this great personality. A magician is what he claimed to be, but nobody seemed to know all that much about what he did. Some folks said he had supernatural abilities, whilst others claimed he could perform the most unbelievable magic tricks anyone had ever seen. My little sister was especially excited about his arrival. She’s the one who dragged me there in the first place, I suppose her extroverted nature was enhanced by the big crowd and all the commotion. She practically forced me to wake up that morning and make our way to the dock as early as possible so we could get an early glance at this master of the arts. Dante The Vast walked down the pathway for a few meters, without acknowledging any of his fans, before one of the bodyguards opened the door of the magisterial white limousine that was waiting for him, parked right by the docks. As I said, something that characterized this magician was his choice to deprive his fans of knowing what his face looks like, nobody has ever even claimed to have seen what’s behind that purple mask of his. The crowd screamed, pleaded, and begged him for just the smallest gesture of acknowledgment:
- “DANTE! PLEASE, DO A TRICK, DANTE! ANY TRICK YOU LIKE. I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!”-
A little boy yelled.
But of course, our friend ignored anyone who desperately tried to get his attention. He simply waved goodbye, and we got inside the limousine and ordered the driver to speed off. Leaving his many fans dust-covered and heartbroken as the white vehicle got further and further away.
- ”What. A. Douche. -
I spoke in utter confusion. Why would he treat his fans so poorly?
My sister gave me a piercing look, which made it clear that she definitely didn’t appreciate my disapproval of Dante’s behavior.
- ”You just don’t know what he can do yet.”-
She said.
Darla is extremely intelligent, and not just for her age. She’s way smarter than I’ve ever been or ever will be if I’m being honest, and she was more than often right about the things she said, even if her tone and manner of speech could use a little work at times.
- ”Those who are special, those with god-given talents, don’t need to be polite to ordinary people like that kid.”
That there shocked me. I was used to her being quite brash, but I had never seen her speak in such a belittling way. However, as usual, I couldn’t say she was wrong. We ask the special people of the world: the rockstars, the actors, the sports superstars, to always be unequivocally great. They need to be unique, to be special, and incredible in every way possible, they need to look flawless and be in perfect shape everywhere they go. We demand that of them. But then we turn around and berate them when they don’t act like normal and ordinary people in public. It’s quite interesting really, how we bend the rules of acceptability so selectively.
I guess I got lost in my head, thinking about Darla’s words. That happens quite often, at the age of 12 years old, that little girl is already a master of argumentation. She speaks with a level of confidence and perfect reasoning which would make the world’s greatest debaters shake in their boots.
As expected, the magician refused to address the media, leaving them desperately scrambling to piece together yet another worthless article about how lucky the town is to have him there. The white limousine drove towards the finest hotel in the area, Dante again ignored the thousands of fans gathered around its entrance as he calmly got on the elevator on his way to the most luxurious room.
Meanwhile, Darla and I enjoyed a much more modest rest of our morning, sitting dockside and soaking in the warmth as we dipped our toes in the water.
- ”Don’t look at me like that. We will obviously be attending your idol Dante’s first function.”-
I said, jokingly.
She gave me a faint smile but remained quiet as the sunlight bounced off her green eyes.
I could tell she was feeling a strong emotion, though. The inpatient fidgeting of her hands gave it away. Maybe she was just excited, maybe on edge, maybe she was nervous. So wanting to break the ice, I spoke again:
-Darla, do you… do you really believe in that stuff? You know, like.. magic?”-
She stopped for a moment, turned to face me, and said confidently:
- ”Yeah, of course, I do.”-
Well, that wasn’t good enough for me. I knew if I was able to get her talking, that knot of dread buried deep inside of her would unravel, and she would go back to being her usual, jolly and brilliant self. You see, this little girl is a true architect of words, and in any conversation no matter how mundane, she can build an ostentatious palace of argumentative boulders. She just can’t resist the satisfaction of absolutely obliterating her opposition in a war of words, slicing through their arguments like a hot knife through butter, ruthlessly, but with masterful elegance, picking apart their logic, piece by piece, like a butcher carving through a whole bird. She was really quiet this morning, but I desperately wanted her to get involved, and once again dazzle me with her incredible eloquence:
- ”That’s unexpected, you know, coming from you, I think the whole concept is dumb. Maybe there is magic out there somewhere, but there’s no way that a human being could control it.”
She chuckled. And without lifting her head, said:
- “What are you even trying to say?”
I thought about how to piece together the perfect bait. A shaky argument, so deliciously irresistible for her predatorial mind… and once I came up with it, I threw it at her, as if it were an unsuspecting zebra, waiting, perfectly positioned for the most menacing of lions to strike.
- ”My point is, if magic is real, it’s a kind of.. force? That coerces things. You know, like, math and numbers, science, physics, all that. How a living being is born, or like how the colors of the rainbow were chosen. That’s magic. Unexplainable things that just are the way that they are and nobody can question it.”
It’s more than fair to say that I got her attention. She looked at me, but then she turned her entire body in my direction, crossing her legs on top of one another. I then saw it, what I’d been searching for this whole time, that flame of passion light up in her eyes. I understood what was about to happen… I was about to witness another piece of her argumentative artistry, my ears were about to be treated to a perfect symphony of elaborate dialectical notes.
- “Look.”-
She explained, with a fierce expression on her tiny face.
- “Miracles aren’t real. Everything has an order to it.”
With that simple choice of words, she struck a clean and well-placed shot right to the heart of my nonsensical argument. She then continued:
- “But, there are people who stand on the line which divides the fictional things from the real ones. That line, that small but unmistakable frontier between the ordinary and the magnificent, that fissure that allows unexplainable things to happen… that’s what I would call magic. So that being the case, I do believe in magic. But I wouldn’t define it as miraculous events, but rather as events with no apparent explanation. I guess, in the same way, that you think that the basic laws of the universe are unexplainable”-
She chuckled at that last sentence.
- “Come on, Matt! Don’t be so dumb! At least pretend like you’re interested in understanding what’s even happening around you. It’s fun to try and figure out why this world we live in is so amazing.”-
- ”You know I was just stringing you along, right?-
- “What?”
- ”That’s right. Call me dumb all you like but I still know how to press all your buttons, little miss Einstein.”
We both laughed as we looked at each other.
In the evening, it was announced that the magician would be performing in a special show later that night. As soon as I heard the news, I frantically got on my phone and bought the best tickets that were still available. Obviously, cheaping out in this particular scenario was not only a horrible choice but also no choice at all. Darla would never forgive me if I did decide to do so, and I was fine with that. As soon as she expressed her interest in seeing the magician perform, I knew it would be an expensive few days. Money was never an issue, though. My career path allowed me to take liberties when it came to indulging my sister’s wishes. It was miraculous that I somehow managed to get some of the best seats in the entire theater, but as Darla explained, miracles aren’t real, they’re only an imaginary description we use to explain the unexplainable, like magic.
We got dressed up for the show. I wore my best suit, and she also wore her best, and only, long dress, and we made our way to the theater that would be the host of such a special spectacle. It was the first time I had ever seen it completely sold out. Moving was pretty much impossible, but yet again, Darla managed to outsmart everyone else. She skilfully swam through the small gaps in the massive crowd, dragging me along with her tiny hand as I clunkily bumped into everyone I got near. Once we finally reached our near front-row seats, my sister turned towards me and faced me with a look of pure delight and happiness.
We waited, patiently, as 10 minutes quickly turned into 20, and then half an hour, and the magician was still nowhere to be seen. I shifted impatiently in my seat, tapping my foot on the ground as my feeling of anticipation quickly turned into frustration. Darla gently grabbed my arm, and looked at me pleadingly as she spoke:
- ”I know, this sucks. But we have to be patient, Matt. Special people deserve special treatment.”
Another half an hour went by and then, the lights shut off and the theater went dark, which provoked a roaring ovation from the crowd. The emergence of a deep voice made the fans quiet down and listen:
- ”Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves to be aghast by the most immense display of brilliance your eyes will ever witness. Majesty, beyond valuation, beyond forgery or imitation. A living work of art, a generational showman, once again restored to the grand gallery of the spectacle. Seethed in pure elegance, and keen on delighting your senses with the most astonishing of pageants. Please, everyone, stand up and welcome: Dante, The Vast!”-
The show had finally begun.
Two giant thunderbolts struck the stage’s dais, spawning along with them two explosions of white brightness that made us jump in our seats. Dante, The Vast had made his entrance most extravagantly. I tried my best not to put the analytical side of my mind to work, to try and uncover the trickery behind every illusion, I tried to just be a child and be happy, like my sister at that precise moment. Her eyes were absolutely fixated on the show unfolding in front of her, and her little mouth lay slightly open, allowing me to notice the massive, joy-filled grin on her face.
Dante, The Vast stood motionless in the center of the stage, spotlight shining bright on his head, reflecting off the metallic-like material of that ever so characteristic purple mask of his. He was wearing a black suit this time, paired with a top hat to match, and with ropes and pockets all over, as a true master of deception. He didn’t have to say or even do anything for the massive crowd to erupt into an orchestra of applause and uncontrollable cheering, his presence alone was more than enough to entice pure electricity within the fans in attendance. When the arena quieted down, the magician raised his arms and like clockwork, another round of thunderbolts seemingly descended out of thin air, the crowd couldn’t stay quiet for long. I clapped as I watched Darla spew an array of almost inhuman noises of pure amazement. The magician closed his fists, to then open them once again and turn his arms, and he began to levitate. If the crowd was uncontrollable before, I suppose that ‘unhinged’ would be the word to describe their reaction to the magician’s latest trick. I wasn’t impressed, though. The strings weren’t visible but clearly, they were there, that little trick is older than this theater for crying out loud… “how silly” I thought. It took me about one minute to forget all about how I was going to enjoy the show without thinking too much about the ‘how’, and just focus on the ‘what’. Oh well…
The magician continued to lift into the air, he must’ve been about 15 feet high when all of a sudden, he started rapidly spinning around. That would’ve been… impossible to do with strings attached. He impressed me with his trick there, so I clapped enthusiastically. However, I was still not convinced about the supernatural aspect of the magician’s performance. My sister, on the other hand, was head over heels. She couldn’t believe what she was laying her eyes on, alternating between clapping and cheering breathlessly. I could tell she believed him. The magician stopped spinning, and immediately flung his arms forward and opened his hands in one motion, two furious bursts of flame seemingly shooting out of his fingertips as he did. Those flames contorted in a particular way and remained suspended in the air, unextinguished, as they spelled out “Dante, The Vast”.
- “The great Dante!”
Yelled Darla in pure awe, as she wiggled uncontrollably in her seat.
The magician then descended, slowly, and with his arms outstretched as his feet again touched the stage dais. He then treated his fans to an assortment of less elaborate, but just as impressive tricks: making a rabbit appear out of thin air, to then seemingly transform it into a pigeon and let it fly away into the crowd. He started, piece by piece, pulling a full set of medieval armor out of his pockets, and then, with a snap of his fingers, gave it life. A thunderous ovation serenaded the theater as the seemingly empty set of armor moved around and swung its sword. My sister, now with her mouth gaping wide open, looked shell-shocked.
- ”Well obviously there’s a guy in there. Dumb trick.”-
I whispered into her ear, teasing her.
The magician then gently took the sword out of the metallic hand, and with a swift swing, broke the armor into a million pieces, proving beyond any doubt that it was in fact empty.
- “Still think there’s a guy in there, Matt?”-
Said Darla, with a malicious grin on her tiny face.
With each one of his tricks, Dante slowly destroyed any semblance of doubt still present in my mind. Cantillated by acclamation so authentic that only a true master of the mystic arts could achieve, the magician executed one undetectable illusion after another, leaving everyone in attendance, including myself, unambiguously astonished by his sheer vastness. He served as walking proof that magic is true and as real as any one of us.
The magician then walked behind the curtain, announcing that he will take a break before performing his final act.
- ”Oh, come on! What a scam! We paid a fortune for a 30-minute show, what a disgrace.’-
I said, looking into Darla’s big green eyes.
- ”Have you ever kissed anyone you really liked, Matt? Would you put a price on the time that you kissed them for, or on the simple fact that you did?-”
She replied.
I was left quiet. Once again finding myself subtly disarmed by her exquisite words.
- ”You’re right, I suppose.”-
An opulently dressed lady sitting to our left, maybe in her 60s, overheard our conversation and faintly smiled at us…
15 minutes passed by, and the magician once again emerged from behind the curtain. This time with a gold-plated purple microphone resting in his right hand.
- ”Today, I shall perform the greatest feat you will ever witness.”-
He began his speech, a bit too presumptuous for my taste. But clearly, my opinion wasn’t a popular one, as the crowd attentively listened to his polished words. He took off his hat and launched it into the air where it unbelievably stayed suspended, eliciting yet another passionate round of applause. He immediately clapped once, and the hat dropped down from above before disappearing with a bright explosion of color.
- ”Too much light.”-
I said, trying to appear unimpressed.
My sister then poked me with her elbow, clearly annoyed by my attitude.
The magician then pulled that same hat out of one of his pockets, and once again laid it on top of his head. It was a flashy bit of trickery, but still just that, a trick. “Nothing too impressive”, I thought.
- ”Now, it is time for you to witness one of humanity’s greatest maneuvers. Escapism and remote transportation combined to create the most stunning act of all time. I call it… “Escape from the gates of hell”. Are you, my incredulous friends, ready to have your lives changed forever?-”
A massive ensemble of claps and cheers erupted within the crowd as the magician’s many assistants emerged from behind the curtain, carrying with them a menacing wooden coffin, covered with metallic chains and reinforcements. Another round of assistants made their way to the stage, this time carrying what appeared to be a transparent box, about 2.00 x 2.00 meters long and wide, made out of unbreakable glass. Once everything was in its place, the magician pulled a handful of red ping-pong balls out of his pocket and threw them out into the crowd.
“ -To whoever manages to catch one of those, I invite you to come up to the stage and see for yourself that there are no illusions or hidden trickery here.-”
He spoke through his microphone.
Sure enough, about 10 of the spectators in attendance made their way toward the stage, and carefully inspected everything, rigorously searching for any invisible trap doors or hidden passages. They found nothing. The anticipation and pure excitement grew within them as they sat back down in their places, and the magician prepared himself to execute his final masterpiece.
His assistants tied his hands and legs, and placed a piece of duct tape around the eye holes of his purple mask, leaving him seemingly unable to move or even see. He got into the fetal position, as he was lifted from the ground and placed inside the glass cube by his assistants. They then sealed the cube with the magician clearly inside and placed it inside the coffin before closing it and sealing it shut with the various chains and locks. To make his escape even more impossible, one of the assistants soaked the coffin in gasoline and proceeded to light it on fire, provoking a gasp of pure shock from the crowd. The flames burned red hot as the same deep voice from the introduction started counting down:
- “30, 29, 28, 27…-”
Darla clenched her fists and seemed unable to take her eyes off the burning coffin.
- ”20, 19, 18, 17…-”
The crowd had a mixed reaction. Whilst some were erupting into pure excitement, others expressed genuine concern about the magician’s well-being.
- ”10, 9, 8, 7…-”
The lights were off, allowing the theater to be illuminated only by the raging flame emerging from the center of the stage.
- ”5, 4, 3, 2, 1…-”
The flame seemingly extinguished itself. Leaving us in complete and utter darkness. “Swoosh”, an unmistakable sound, usually made by swift motion was heard in the back of the theater. Everyone gasped. The lights went back on, to reveal the magician, levitating above the stands and making his way back to the stage. What followed was the loudest and most genuine standing ovation I’ve ever heard.
- “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”-
Screeched Darla, breathless as she clapped relentlessly.
Fair enough, it was quite impressive. His final act, Escape From The Gates Of Hell, was everything he claimed it would be. It was unbelievable even, it was just… unexplainable. It left you riddled with doubt and unanswerable questions but, above it all, dazzled by its vastness. Magic is what it was, unexplainable, nonsensical, and much more impressive than the colors of the rainbow, or the anatomical implications of a human being born.
When my sister and I left the theater, that final act was all we could talk about.
- ”You have to admit it, Matt. You have to admit that it was amazing.”-
- ”Yeah… yeah. I admit it, it *was* amazing. I can’t stop thinking about how he did that. I mean, how the hell did he do that? Breaking the glass cube, picking the locks, and exiting the coffin, just to appear, flying behind us. All that whilst being on fire! How?”-
She smiled and shook her head.
- ”I don’t think about how he did it. But that’s where the magic is. You can’t explain the unexplainable.”-
Darla said as she looked out of the window of my car, admiring the scenery as we left it behind.
- ”It’s incredible. How just an act of escapism can create such fascination, don’t you think?”-
- ”It’s not just an act, though. It’s something that makes us believe that there is something else out there, something greater than the ordinariness of our existence. It makes us dream without being asleep. That is incredible, Matt.”
My sister continued to look out the window, resting her face on her seatbelt. I could tell that the dread was once again taking control of her. Our parents died a few years ago, in a car crash. She was sitting in the same spot in which she is seated now, the left seat in the back of the car, looking out the window. It was a miracle that she survived, and even though my little one doesn’t believe in miracles, there’s no other explanation that makes me understand how she saved herself from that crash, that crash that took our parents away from us, ripping them from our hearts with no warning or cause. She tends to get lost in her thoughts when she recalls those horrible memories, so I tried desperately to reawaken that flame in her eyes, that flame of pure passion that until today, only Dante, The Vast, was able to light.
-So… Darla, how many more shows is Dante going to be performing in?-
- ”Six. He will be doing seven shows in total, so six more.”-
She said without moving her face, still, almost lifelessly, looking out the window.
- ”Would you like it if we went to all of them?”-
I asked, poking and probing in search of reawakening her true self.
It seemingly worked. She turned to face me with those playful, grass-colored eyes of hers staring at me through the rearview mirror.
- ”But we already saw the show. Do you really want to watch it again, so many times?”-
She asked as if she was trying to play a game with me. That game that some play when they really want something you offered, but make you think twice and second-guess yourself before accepting it so suddenly.
- ”Of course I do! I want to watch his show as many times as possible. It was that good. Plus, apparently, he does different tricks every night. Well, besides Escape From The Gates Of Hell, he does that every time he performs. It’s his ‘signature’, so to speak.”-
- ”Well, if you insist, Matt. I suppose it would be… unwise to turn down the opportunity to watch that masterpiece again.”-
That wonderful, fervent flame of pure spirit was again restored into her eyes.
- ”And Matt! I just really want to know how he does it. I thought it wasn’t important to me but now I realize it is. He’s outsmarting us and I can’t stand it! No matter how carefully kept, I know that you and I can uncover his secret if we’re smart enough.”-
She spoke, with a wide smile on her face and rosy, joy-filled cheeks to match.
- ”Wouldn’t that be awesome, ‘Matty’?”-
My name is Mathew, my friends call me Matt, but my parents called me “Matty”… so did Darla in fact, but after the accident, she stopped. And since then has always called me Matt. Maybe because ‘Matty’ reminds her of a time when our parents were still with her, or maybe not, I’m not sure. The point is, this was the first time she’s called me that since our parents passed away. This is the most excited and determined I’ve seen her since then.
- “Yes! Okay, now we’re talking. Let’s do it. Let’s figure it out together, and expose his secret.”-