I had decided to perform again. Not for fame, not for some desperate need to prove myself to anyone, but for me. For the thrill, the rush, the tiny spark that reminded me who I really was. Clara, the quiet woman living in Boise, never got to feel the stage lights, the applause, or the adrenaline that ran through my veins when a trick went perfectly. And tonight, I wanted that feeling again—even if just for a moment.
I had pulled out one of my old props from the storage closet—a deck of cards, slightly worn, but still perfect. I practiced a few shuffles in the mirror, letting my fingers remember the rhythm of each move, the subtle sleight of hand that had once amazed thousands. I smiled at my reflection. Clara might be the name I used now, but the performer inside me was still alive, waiting.
The address on the little card Mara had given me seemed simple enough: a small hall tucked between two apartment buildings downtown. It was supposed to be empty, private, intimate—a chance to test my tricks, to perform without pressure. A stage just for me.
I parked my car on the street, stepping out into the chill night air. The hall should have been right here. But there was… nothing. Just a blank brick wall. No door, no marquee, no lights. I blinked, then rubbed my eyes.
Maybe I was early? I checked my watch. Nope—perfect timing. Maybe the place had closed? But Mara had insisted this was right. I pulled the little card from my pocket, the edges worn from being handled too many times. The address matched what I had entered.
I frowned, turning in circles, scanning the empty street. No sign of the hall, no hint that anyone had been here recently. The city was quiet, almost too quiet, as if it were holding its breath.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the creeping unease. "Okay, maybe it's… somewhere else," I muttered to myself, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I glanced down the street. Nothing. I turned another corner. Nothing.
Then I noticed a narrow alley off to my right, tucked between two buildings. It wasn't marked. No lights. No signs. Just a thin ribbon of darkness disappearing into the unknown. Something about it felt… familiar. Dangerous, maybe, but also promising.
I hesitated. The card in my hand felt heavier now, as if it were urging me to decide. I could turn back, chalk it up to some mistake, and head home. Or… I could follow it. Maybe the hall was here, hidden, just like so many things in my life.
A shiver ran down my spine. I didn't know what I would find, or if I'd regret it. But curiosity—the old thrill, the spark that had always drawn me to magic—pulled me forward.
I stepped closer to the alley. Shadows swallowed the end of it, leaving only a thin strip of light from the street behind me. My fingers tightened around the card, and my pulse began to quicken.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it wasn't. But I had to see.
I took a step into the darkness.