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With the setting sun retreats the respectable members of society from the usually crowded streets.
That’s what they’d want you to think, but, in reality, they slink through night’s shadows, paranoid eyes scanning windows, faces shielded from any person they may pass, terrified of the curious gazes and recognition they long for during the day. Now, in these late hours, they rub shoulders with society’s condemned, lowest of the low, all moving to their questionable destinations, the calm darkness of twilight and beyond their great equalizer.
This mixed crowd migrates down towards the south side of the brick city, following the warm glow of the lamp posts, shoes tapping against stone is rushed excitement. There’s a show in town and no one moving at this time dare dreams of missing it.
A few of the young lot stop at a faded poster in an alley, jabbing each other in the ribs, pushing one another around, loud boisterous laughter and lewd comments all focused at the illustrated silhouette on the wall in front of them. Her still white hair fills the background like a soft snow curtain, red painted eyed inviting, luring each one of them in with some unspoken invitation. After some more jests, they step out and join the crowd in the pursuit of following their invisible notes of entry.
The air is crisp like it always is the later fall months, but something is different about tonight, there’s an indiscernible static charge about, and the small theater they all approach only adds to the mysterious feeling. It’s unknown, beautiful, mystic, spiritual: Magic.
“Tickets please.”
Behind a glass ticket window, a tall man with large silver ears that fade down into a head full of matching hair smiles warmly at the people who pass their slips of paper to him. His eye contact is distant, contrast to his smile, but no one is thrown off by the mixed display of expression, rather they seem captivated by how it makes his blue eyes flash from face to face.
“Enjoy the show.”
He nods his head to each, hiding his amusement at the groups that argue what type of show it is they’re about to walk into. Whatever doubt anyone may have is instantly gone out the door they came from when perfume heavy smoke fills their senses as their eyes adjust to the low light of the sporadic candles across the large room, fumbling to find seats at the various roundtables littered across the main floor.
They’re here for magic and mysticism but they’ll leave with more than an appreciation for the supernatural, they’ll take with them a greater love of the more… Physical side of the world, too. The heavy red velvet curtains sealing off the main stage allowing a catwalk to jut out into the audience space teases them with the growing confirmation of all the sensations they’re about to experience.
That’s what they’d want you to think, but, in reality, they slink through night’s shadows, paranoid eyes scanning windows, faces shielded from any person they may pass, terrified of the curious gazes and recognition they long for during the day. Now, in these late hours, they rub shoulders with society’s condemned, lowest of the low, all moving to their questionable destinations, the calm darkness of twilight and beyond their great equalizer.
This mixed crowd migrates down towards the south side of the brick city, following the warm glow of the lamp posts, shoes tapping against stone is rushed excitement. There’s a show in town and no one moving at this time dare dreams of missing it.
A few of the young lot stop at a faded poster in an alley, jabbing each other in the ribs, pushing one another around, loud boisterous laughter and lewd comments all focused at the illustrated silhouette on the wall in front of them. Her still white hair fills the background like a soft snow curtain, red painted eyed inviting, luring each one of them in with some unspoken invitation. After some more jests, they step out and join the crowd in the pursuit of following their invisible notes of entry.
The air is crisp like it always is the later fall months, but something is different about tonight, there’s an indiscernible static charge about, and the small theater they all approach only adds to the mysterious feeling. It’s unknown, beautiful, mystic, spiritual: Magic.
“Tickets please.”
Behind a glass ticket window, a tall man with large silver ears that fade down into a head full of matching hair smiles warmly at the people who pass their slips of paper to him. His eye contact is distant, contrast to his smile, but no one is thrown off by the mixed display of expression, rather they seem captivated by how it makes his blue eyes flash from face to face.
“Enjoy the show.”
He nods his head to each, hiding his amusement at the groups that argue what type of show it is they’re about to walk into. Whatever doubt anyone may have is instantly gone out the door they came from when perfume heavy smoke fills their senses as their eyes adjust to the low light of the sporadic candles across the large room, fumbling to find seats at the various roundtables littered across the main floor.
They’re here for magic and mysticism but they’ll leave with more than an appreciation for the supernatural, they’ll take with them a greater love of the more… Physical side of the world, too. The heavy red velvet curtains sealing off the main stage allowing a catwalk to jut out into the audience space teases them with the growing confirmation of all the sensations they’re about to experience.