The Magician and his Pupil

An original story by Angeline V. Familaran

Second draft

The first time the child saw the magician performed, he was star struck. He was so genuinely amazed
that when the magician asked for a volunteer, he automatically raised his hands. The magician saw his
hand shot toward the air, but only smiled at him as he chose another volunteer. But the astonishment
and faith in the child’s eyes led him to be selected by the magician to be his pupil. When he was asked
why he didn’t choose him as a volunteer, the magician only replied, “Why would I, when I can make you
like me instead?”

The magician didn’t like to be called “master,” or even “teacher,” so he was simply called by his pupil as
the magician. Now the pupil loved the magician dearly, he was always flabbergasted by his countless
feats and illusions that he conducted so effortlessly. During lessons, the pupil’s favorite part was the
magician’s performance of his tricks. When asked to do the same, however, the pupil would just be
annoyed that he can’t do it the way the magician does. “You’ll learn to do it your own way someday” the
magician tells him, and the pupil with his childlike wonder believed him immensely.

The magician became his tutor, his best friend, and his guardian. The pupil believed that he would
always be there, guiding him throughout his lessons. And the magician did so, showing him the basics of
magic, all the things he was supposed to know at his young age.

“Soon you’ll be able to manage all of this on your own.” The magician once told the pupil on their
lesson. Now, many years had passed and the pupil is slowly entering the age of maturity. While he
matures, the magician slowly ages too, his once rich black hair now showing streaks of gray underneath.
But the pupil refused to believe him. His tricks couldn’t seem to match with that of the magician, he was
always too slow, and too sluggish compared him.

One day the magician told him, “I’ll be leaving soon.”

“And where are you off to this time? How long?” the pupil answered back. The magician still seldom
goes to perform magic shows, though over the years the shows he performs on has declined. through
this the pupil knows that the magician would be back, as he always does.
The magician rumbled a heartfelt laugh that seemed wistful to the pupil’s ears, and only replied “I’ll be
leaving to the abyss of the other side, and I’ll be back when you’re ready.” In the young pupil’s mind, this
sentence made no kind of sense, but he thought that the magician is just making one of his jokes again,
like he always does these last few years, so he shook off any kind of lingering doubts on the back of his
mind.

He waited for the magician, like he always does. He would be back, after all he only taught him the
basics. After a week of waiting, the pupil thought to himself that the magician was just late. It happened
once, and he remembered crying just when the magician came, laughing as he took him in his arms and
smoothing his hair. This time he won’t let the magician catch him crying; why would he cry anyway? He
was almost a grown up. He can manage on his own.

So he waited for another week, and another, and another, until weeks became months, and the months
became years. Until he was almost certain that the magician would never be back. A tear fell on his
cheeks, and another, and another, until he was bawling his eyes out.

In the back of his mind the words still rang out. He would be back when he was ready. But when would
he be ready? In his first magic show with only three judges watching, he wasn’t there. Or on his second,
or on his third. He slowly watched the years go by, wondering when or if the magician would really
showed up. He looked at his hands, still a little bit frustrated that they could never match with that of
the magician’s. For years he lived like this, under the shadow and teachings of the great magician he
admired so.

But he was on his own. and over time he learned that he could weave magic tricks of his own accord.
The once small number of audience he has had doubled, tripled and even quadrupled when he realized
the value of his own hands and the things they could do. He doesn’t try to copy the magician’s tricks
anymore, he has his own! “Is this what he meant by being ready?” he thought to himself. when he
thought of the magician being back, he planned all the things he would say. There are still many things
he could teach him, so many things he planned to tell him.

And on one of his shows, during the final act, he thought he saw a glimpse of the magician in the
multitude of audience he has. The magician was just once as he knew him, young and great and grand.
The pupil’s heart beats harder and harder as the things he wanted to tell the magician overflowed his
mind. But as he gave a bow, not to the audience, but to his mentor, his guardian and his friend, his mind
calmed. Slowly, peacefully, as he realized that the magician might already knew these things without
him telling him in words. He was, after all, a magician. as the pupil slowly lift his head, he saw the
magician smiled genuinely and affectionately, forming the words on his mouth, “Just right on time” and
he vanished, leaving only a wisp of air on his wake. Like he was never there at all.

The pupil, now officially a magician himself, left the stage with a heavy but serene heart. But as he was
about to leave the premises, he heard a young girl squealed in delight, “Can I be your assistant?” The
pupil looked back, and with smile on his eyes he answered, ““Why would I, when I can make you like me
instead?””