The Magician
Brain Sketch #7: the narrative equivalent of a doodle.
Oct 22, 2023
The tiger split abruptly, and the two halves of the corpse landed on the ground with a dull thud. Flowers started to bloom from the flesh just as the blood started to flow, and the magician bowed gracefully. They were lilac chrysanthemums, a whole bunch standing tall over the carcass, beauty borne from death. He invited her to see for herself, see that the flowers were indeed real, just like the tiger had been real. She was scared to get up. The confidence in the magician’s clear eyes suggested that he wasn’t tricking her; she was scared that magic actually existed.
