The Illusionist

It was a big stage. Probably the biggest that Borden had ever performed in. Bagging this deal with such a prestigious theater was one, but pleasing the opulent Englishmen meant nearly everything that night. It was a giant step from his performances in the streets. This was different from the rings in the bottles and the card stuff…

“Ladies and Gentlemen my first trick of the evening is one that involves considerable risk,” Borden began. “Anyone in the audience who'd be irrevocably damaged to see a man drown should leave now,” he explained slowly, eagerly watching out for the raised eyebrows, “for the young lady who taught me this trick, died performing it.” Taking a step back he lifted his wooden staff up into the air. “Let’s begin,” he tapped it twice on the stage and the bright red curtain behind him rose slowly and grandly. It revealed a massive glass box filled with water. At the very top there hung a large ominous lock on the clunky, heavy-looking lid. Beside the box stood a Borden’s crewman, Yuddy, with ropes, chains and a handcuff.

The water was frigid. But he couldn’t feel it. He complained a few times when he performed in Bolton or Ipswich, but this was different. He held his breath and patiently yet swiftly worked on the chains. The keys in his socks, the locks in the chains and handcuffs, the twist and the turn that loosened the ropes; he had rehearsed them so many times but in his anxiousness he felt himself losing control. The elevator, on which the glass box was in, began its descent. There were twenty seconds. But this time it felt like an eternity.

He couldn’t get his six-year-old daughter’s face off his mind: Those beautiful blue eyes, her dark hair tied up in a formal bun, her innocent smile, her cute little fingers that played with her nose. Yuddy had bought her pack of popcorn for the special occasion to only be oblivious that the bag was spilling over her skirt. Her eyes wide open, she saw her helpless father take the plunge, tied up in chains and ropes as Yuddy assisted in locking the glass box resoundingly shut. Immediately, the red drapes fell over the box as it traced out its every contour. Only the crewmen and Borden knew that it was made to appear that way through the careful construction of wires on the inside that held them in place that way.a

Fifteen seconds – the elevator inched closer to the stage deck below. Borden had barely managed to get his fingers into his socks to pull the keys out. If only they fell to the floor, the cue was for the box to be shattered open with the axe, which was in Petrov’s strong hands. Borden held on to the keys tightly, as if they were his life – They were his life. If the act were stopped abruptly, it would be a disaster. He didn’t care as much to drown, but if the audience was not pleased, his life and most importantly Trudy’s life would be ruined.

Just two days ago, Borden remembered, there wasn’t as much as a loaf of bread left for lunch. He hadn’t eaten in a day and his acts in Ipswich were not paying off. He had already borrowed so much from Yuddy that he hadn’t been paid for over a month. Although famished, he passed his slice of bread with margarine to Trudy, “Oh, you growing girl. You need your grub now, don’t you?” he ran his fingers through her hair. “Finish your bread, drink your milk and go to sleep. Ok dearest?” he wrapped his arms around her warmly. His shabby apartment was barely any shelter from the cold winter outside. “I promise you that next week we will go out for some Italian,” he looked at her eagerly. “Really daddy?” Trudy asked in a faint voice.

He had got the ropes that kept his feet together – that was easy. He kicked himself up for a gasp of air, came back down and continued his struggle to get the handcuffs off. This was the trickiest part of the escape and he knew that he held his life in between his fingers, in those keys. But what was harder was to fight the dread that threatened to haunt him. He fought hard to keep her out of his mind.

He remembered the day of his wife’s death all too clearly. The keys had slipped past her fingers as she struggled desperately to catch it back. He hurried the axe, hurling it at the glass box. He remembered how the axe bounced back with a muted ominous “Thud”. With all his might, he tried again and again. His blows left cracks on the box, but before the water came spilling out, Borden knew that it was too late. His wife in his arms, he tried hard to bring her back. But he was no magician.

The key pushing against the tumblers of his handcuffs was a sonorous relief. He removed the handcuffs as the elevator reached the bottom of the dark stage deck. Petrov was quick to unlock the box as soon as it was clear of the stage. Borden kicked himself up and caught hold of the edge of the box, the ordeal nearly over. With a final push, he heaved himself out of the glass box and threw himself over the edge. Petrov lowered the axe, “Von’t be needing this eh today, Borden sir?” The elevator began its ascent, as Borden became busy positioning himself in the narrow platform with barely any room to stand. Hugging the box that had held him captive, he braced behind the glass box away from the audience. Anxious and scared, he knew that the scene that awaited him outside of those impending drapes was all that stood before him and salvaging his life.

Often, by his rivals and even by his friends, Borden was mocked for his cheap tricks. He had planned for a year and bagging this deal with such a prestigious theater was by itself a great achievement. But impressing the opulent English crowd at Alswych proved pivotal to boosting his career and saving Trudy from the vicious cycle of his poverty. His heart was racing as he prayed quietly to his wife. He looked above, as the square-shaped mouth in the stage loomed ever closer. He could see the soft red glow from the drapes and hear the murmurs of the crowd as they anticipated the prestige. Borden knew that the verdict passed in the next few seconds could mean his and his daughter’s future.

He hugged the box ever so tightly as the back of his soaking wet tux brushed past the mouth as the platform ascended back into the drapes which were held in position by wire in the shape of the glass box. As soon as the platform silently slipped back in position, he hurled himself out of the drapes onto the stage and looked up cautiously toward the audience. The drapes came off swiftly revealing the intact glass box locked shut. Their mouth agape, the audience erupted in an uproar. Borden stood up slowly, took his bow, with his eye only on Trudy the whole time.