Post by xxphenomenonxx on Oct 2, 2008 18:21:57 GMT -5
The point of this contest intrigued me. You had to take a subject or something and make it out to be more than what it seems to be. For instance, say I wrote a story about a bunch of halloween kids that went trick-or-treating. Well, to make it be MORE than that, say, one of the kids was actually a werewolf or something. xD It's a bit hard to explain. But in my case, I took one of those magician/grandeur acts that you see in circus', and just as performance street magicians. Lol. Hard to explaine again. Anyways, it's a long project. I've rewritten this based on a previous story of mine. Lemme know if it sounds too stupid/cheesy/IMPOSSIBLE. xD Lol. There were no limits as to what kind of fiction it could be. So..here we go. Btw..it is in parts. It's a longer short story contest. ANYWAY.
When people hear the words, “Troupe Aviante”, a number of emotions, thoughts, concerns, questions and hopes run through their minds.
Through the public’s eye, Troupe Aviante is a force to behold and encompasses all the innocence, awe and wonder behind grand illusions, magic and mischief. When people hear “Troupe Aviante”, they think of disappearing sorcerers, cunning mind readers, thrilled audiences, spectacularly impossible tricks and heart pounding illusions. Audiences across the world adore us. Critics love us, if only for the chance to call us shams. But when the world hears “Troupe Aviante”, they think of the traditional street magicians, powerful illusionists and wondrous escapees. They see what they were allowed to see. What we want them to see. And anything beyond that, is, as Troupe Aviante’s founding father says, “Quite frankly, none of their damn business.”
Charming, isn’t he?
But looking back on the Troupe’s years of hardships and the variety of people that have come together to form this unique little family, I’d have to say he has a point. We aren’t like other families. Every person on earth is entitled to their own secrets when they are born. But Troupe Aviante’s secrets are like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
For the 35 long years that Troupe Aviante has been in business, we’ve never once been closed down. We’ve always had trouble watching the media. These days technology is stepping up in the contest between illusion and reality. It’s getting harder for people like us to make a living when the world around you is so desperate to prove you’re phonies.
Our only salvation is that people in general often don’t know how close to the truth they really are. Troupe Aviante is grateful for the ignorance of simple men. We’re also proud of our 35 year long title that proves our authenticity in the magical business. No one can disprove our illusions or find the cards up our sleeves, or prove we’ve some hidden trap door lingering under the floor boards. We laugh off threats of exposing our secrets- simply because the one thing that we have to hide will never allow the press or the authorities to prove the source of our tricks.
I can’t blame them.
These days a lot of people don’t believe in magic.
“Ah, practicing again, are we?”
I hadn’t expected anyone to be up at this hour and thus nearly jumped out of my skin at hearing my Uncle’s familiar voice flow around the corner. He laughed at the temporary shock I displayed, his grin growing. “You remind me of myself, ten years ago. Ah, those were the days. Snowe and I would spend hours up this late, throwing spells at one another, practicing our act for tomorrow’s grand show.” He paused and ceased his laughter. “But you don’t have a show tomorrow. So what is it do you think you’re doing up right now?”
I climbed down off of the beam I was on. I caught myself before I could fall forward and sat back on the beam, sighing. My Uncle crossed his arms and cocked a brow, his eyes twinkling.
He was 39 years old, and yet he seemed much younger, perhaps in his early twenties. He was five foot eleven, five extra inches taller than me. He had sharp navy blue eyes that sparked with interest whenever he found something intriguing and short cropped black hair that was rebellious in the front and hung over his eyes. The beginnings of a goatee were coming in- a sign that he’d been off the job for a few weeks and had no need to dress up for the media. He came around and sat next to me, nudging me with his elbow.
“You nervous?”
I rolled my eyes. Please. Me? Nervous? Never. “Maybe just a little.”
“It was that way with my first time too.”
“How am I supposed to pull this off?” I looked down at my shoes, curling my toes within them. It was bad enough that everyone was looking to me for a miracle I couldn’t provide. What was worse was that I had no idea how to go about saying “I can’t.”
My Uncle chuckled. “It’s just a little hocus pocus.” He waved his hand to prove a point. The room suddenly lit up with orange light as fire danced across his fingertips, licking at the air. I watched, enthralled until he closed his fist and it disappeared. “You have no idea how much talent you really have in you. Trust me. It took me years to master this simple magic.”
“Uncle Kite, I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Magic? Is this a joke?”
“Public schooling,” he sighed. “Such a horrible thing. The bullshit they teach kids these days.”
And..that's all I got so far. xD
Troupe Aviante
When people hear the words, “Troupe Aviante”, a number of emotions, thoughts, concerns, questions and hopes run through their minds.
Through the public’s eye, Troupe Aviante is a force to behold and encompasses all the innocence, awe and wonder behind grand illusions, magic and mischief. When people hear “Troupe Aviante”, they think of disappearing sorcerers, cunning mind readers, thrilled audiences, spectacularly impossible tricks and heart pounding illusions. Audiences across the world adore us. Critics love us, if only for the chance to call us shams. But when the world hears “Troupe Aviante”, they think of the traditional street magicians, powerful illusionists and wondrous escapees. They see what they were allowed to see. What we want them to see. And anything beyond that, is, as Troupe Aviante’s founding father says, “Quite frankly, none of their damn business.”
Charming, isn’t he?
But looking back on the Troupe’s years of hardships and the variety of people that have come together to form this unique little family, I’d have to say he has a point. We aren’t like other families. Every person on earth is entitled to their own secrets when they are born. But Troupe Aviante’s secrets are like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
For the 35 long years that Troupe Aviante has been in business, we’ve never once been closed down. We’ve always had trouble watching the media. These days technology is stepping up in the contest between illusion and reality. It’s getting harder for people like us to make a living when the world around you is so desperate to prove you’re phonies.
Our only salvation is that people in general often don’t know how close to the truth they really are. Troupe Aviante is grateful for the ignorance of simple men. We’re also proud of our 35 year long title that proves our authenticity in the magical business. No one can disprove our illusions or find the cards up our sleeves, or prove we’ve some hidden trap door lingering under the floor boards. We laugh off threats of exposing our secrets- simply because the one thing that we have to hide will never allow the press or the authorities to prove the source of our tricks.
I can’t blame them.
These days a lot of people don’t believe in magic.
Chapter One: One For the Money
“Ah, practicing again, are we?”
I hadn’t expected anyone to be up at this hour and thus nearly jumped out of my skin at hearing my Uncle’s familiar voice flow around the corner. He laughed at the temporary shock I displayed, his grin growing. “You remind me of myself, ten years ago. Ah, those were the days. Snowe and I would spend hours up this late, throwing spells at one another, practicing our act for tomorrow’s grand show.” He paused and ceased his laughter. “But you don’t have a show tomorrow. So what is it do you think you’re doing up right now?”
I climbed down off of the beam I was on. I caught myself before I could fall forward and sat back on the beam, sighing. My Uncle crossed his arms and cocked a brow, his eyes twinkling.
He was 39 years old, and yet he seemed much younger, perhaps in his early twenties. He was five foot eleven, five extra inches taller than me. He had sharp navy blue eyes that sparked with interest whenever he found something intriguing and short cropped black hair that was rebellious in the front and hung over his eyes. The beginnings of a goatee were coming in- a sign that he’d been off the job for a few weeks and had no need to dress up for the media. He came around and sat next to me, nudging me with his elbow.
“You nervous?”
I rolled my eyes. Please. Me? Nervous? Never. “Maybe just a little.”
“It was that way with my first time too.”
“How am I supposed to pull this off?” I looked down at my shoes, curling my toes within them. It was bad enough that everyone was looking to me for a miracle I couldn’t provide. What was worse was that I had no idea how to go about saying “I can’t.”
My Uncle chuckled. “It’s just a little hocus pocus.” He waved his hand to prove a point. The room suddenly lit up with orange light as fire danced across his fingertips, licking at the air. I watched, enthralled until he closed his fist and it disappeared. “You have no idea how much talent you really have in you. Trust me. It took me years to master this simple magic.”
“Uncle Kite, I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Magic? Is this a joke?”
“Public schooling,” he sighed. “Such a horrible thing. The bullshit they teach kids these days.”
And..that's all I got so far. xD
