There was a girl
whose uncle was a magician. She had been known him since young and admired him.
She had been watching his magic performance and was greatly fascinated by his
wonderful magic. He could vanish a person, pull out series of endless colourful
handkerchiefs from a cylinder tube, guess which card a person thinking and
more.
Whenever they met together, he stroked her hair
behind her ear and produced a sweet in his hand. She believed that he was a
true magician.
She was proud of his uncle and bragged about
him to her neighbours. One day, she made new friends in school and talked to
them about her uncle’s magical repertoire. Her friends laughed and disclosed
how some of his magic tricks worked to her.
The girl was stupefied, disenchanted, felt betrayed
and outraged. After school, she confronted her uncle.
“You lied to me! Your magic was all fake!”
The magician cackled, “Then, what is magic to
you?”
“Mmm… Doing something extraordinary… Something
impossible.”
“You know, our brain is sealed under a thick
bone,” he knocked his finger on her head. “Aren’t you amazed that something can
still go through this thick bone and reach the brain?” He said, pushing his
finger down on her head.
He bent his knees and extended his arm to the
back of her head. He clicked his fingers and a sweet materialized in his hand.
The girl was not surprised or delighted and remained unruffled.
He took his magician hat off from his head
and held it in front of the girl. He clicked his fingers inside the hat and a
myriad of multi-coloured slips of papers burst out from it. “And impact on the brain and linger in it,”
he continued, “So, isn’t it magic when you are able to enchant someone?”
The girl stared at him blankly, baffled by
his words. He pointed at a metal table.
“Is it called magic when a heavy hunk of
metal such as that table flies in the air?”
The girl mulled over for a while and nodded.
“Then aeroplane flies by magic,” asserted the
magician.
“No!” She blurted out.
“Why? It is even bigger than the table.”
“But it flies by engines!”
The magician drew his face closer to his niece.
“It is magic. It is just that it is called as
technology when the magic is explained.”
The girl was confused.
“My magic’d enchanted you. It is just that it
is called as a trick when it was explained,” and he whirled his cloak around
him.
The sweet that he had produced was tossed
into her hands. To her unexpextation, smoke spouted from the sweet. Among the
smoke, the magician’s voice sounded,
“It becomes true magic when fantasy comes to
reality.”
And he disappeared into the thin air.
