(no subject)
Feb. 28th, 2008 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kohakuOriginal fiction time!
Meet Lester the half demon :D
Magician
His biggest trick was to appear normal. Like the bloke on the tram that sits in one of the seats opposite you and tries not to nod off. Or the guy in the grey suit that stands in line before you and orders a white coffee to go, no sugar, milk on the side.
He looked like a middle-school teacher, harmless in his cotton slacks and button down shirt. Everybody knew what a crook looked like, and if he was wearing a suit, it would be Prada or Armani or at least Dolce & Gabbana, but not some house brand like Lester wore. And Lester looked too English to be Bates from American Psycho anyway, too quiet and compliant and nice. And he wore a vest under his shirt. Lester knew he still was a crook, he was just good at hiding it.
There had been a time in his life where he had been very ambitious. Up to the point where it had cost him some things in his life. He had found himself financially independent but adrift at 35, no home, no family to come home to. Which had not worried him much at 35. He did not consider finding a wife after what had happened with the last one. Burned child and all.
Burned child, how fitting.
He spent time on trains and in the business districts of big cities, looking like your co-worker in the next cubicle, your golf buddy, the guy living across the street.
There had been a time when he had more hair too, when his receding hairline had not yet almost succeeded in meeting with the bald spot on his head. There had been a time when he still worked as part time magician at parties and gatherings. There had been a time when he had been in love.
Lester pondered this while he waited at the station for his tube. He was sitting down, as his knee started to bother him in cold weather. He watched the snow melt from his shoes, his toes cosy as always, as he pondered the past.
He reached into his right pocket, and felt for his gold coin, not yet taking it out, just touching the smooth sides of it.
When he had been younger, and had had more hair, he would do this coin trick. The one where you make the coin disappear and then reappear someplace else. Everybody thought it was a real neat slide of hands, and no one ever found out how Lester did it. It was easy really. You just needed some Demon genes, and know how to bend reality. Then you stuck the coin into another dimension and called it back. Worked like charm every time. He never gave that explanation though, just smiled slyly.
He could make bigger things disappear too. Like that collier at Tiffany’s. And let it reappear again later, say, in his apartment. It did not work with living things though, as he had to learn during a performance at a birthday party. The rabbit out of the hat trick had not worked as Lester had intended, and the attending parents had not been pleased. It had taken some time before Lester got hired again. It had not bothered him because of the loss of income, but on some deeper level. And because he had to buy a new pet rabbit for the birthday boy.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia,” she had said. When he had looked up from his book, he had seen she had been smiling too. And holding out her hand.
“Hi, Cynthia,” he had said, taking her hand in his, not shaking, just smiling, “I’m Lester.”
She had laughed at this, and he knew he had sounded old fashioned and a little nervous. He had sounded old fashioned from kindergarden on. Still she had smiled. Somebody else had called her name then, a group of other twens, young and happy, and she had waved over, turning but then looking back at him.
“See you around, Lester,” she had said.
If he could have stolen her, he would have.
Magic was a fickle thing. No matter what you’ve read about it, there are some things you can’t acquire by magic. Love, for example, luck, all those things starting with “L” like luscious hair. Lust, now that was easily acquired. Good old sex charm, easy spell too, but it could not make anyone stay, no matter how much mammal they actually still were. Foolish things, but not foolish enough.
So Cynthia fell in love with this other guy, the good looking type, eager but from a prosperous background. With chestnut hair and that toothpaste commercial smile. You could smell the upcoming inheritance from his well off parent for miles, at least Lester could. And it bugged him in a way nothing had ever bugged him before. Not the money, but the ease that came with being sure of what you are, who you are and where you will be in the upcoming years.
True, Lester had a lot more upcoming years.
It was some sick twist of fate that toothpaste boy would try and become a magician too. Lester frowned upon it, this silly human trying so hard to hide cards and coins, when the trick lay somewhere else entirely. He had to admit the boy was kind of good at it, getting cheers from the audience too. His audience, so it did not take long until Lester was seriously pissed and walked over.
“Oh, is that so,” the boy said, grinning and cocking his head. “Says who?”
There was the barely concealed disdain in his attitude; one Lester had come to know over the years.
I know your secrets, he wanted to tell the boy, your silly little secrets like that stack of skin mags with big breasted girls you keep behind your drawer. Or that picture of the girl next door you took with your fancy ass camera while she was completely oblivious. And naked. I know who you think of when you wank off and I know who you think off when you come, and he wouldn’t be pleased. I know all your secrets, and they aren’t as dark as you like to think.
Instead, Lester looked at the boy, and then at Cynthia who came to meet him.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “Lester, right?”
And he nodded, and left, because there was not much to do, not in front of her. He could hear the boy laugh and knew he was the butt of the joke again.
It was not like an open rivalry, more a pin prick when you did not expect it. The boy let pigeons appear and fly off, Lester countered and made people disappear. Forever. He did it only twice because it was causing too much of a stir.
Cynthia was at every single show the boy did, always sitting to the side of the makeshift stage, always smiling and breaking Lester’s heart. They both took up performing after one another, mostly doing small tricks, but sometimes the boy got that look and Lester knew he was in for some serious competition.
They did the vanishing act (Lester coming back a little smudged by the hell fires but otherwise fine), the solid-through-solid (Lester walked through a mirror, while the boy managed to not stab a girl to death), they cut a rope and fused it again (the boy of course using some slide of hands) and both got standing ovations. The boy came over, sheepish and not really a boy anymore.
“You were great, Lester,” he said, grinning up at Lester and rolling back and forth on his heels.
“You were,” Lester said, trying to think of something nice, “looking good in that cape.”
The boy laughed. It made Lester want to eat his face.
It was not about rivalry, Lester thought. Not at all. They were both successful at what they were doing, each in their own way. It was not jealousy, of course it wasn’t. How could it be, when she was such a tiny human thing, delicate in that human way, made of flesh and bone and breath.
He had met Cynthia once by chance and invited her for a milkshake. He remembered that she liked raspberry.
“Wow, you’re good,” she had said, eyes wide, when he ordered.
“I know,” he had answered, because it had been the truth. It had been easy to remember things like that, things she liked.
She had laughed and touched his arm.
“It’s funny that you too are friends,” she said after a while.
“What,” he said.
“You’re so quiet and calm. You hardly ever talk and Jared talks a mile an hour.”
Jared. The boy.
“Yes, he does.”
She laughed again.
It was then when he decided to do something about all this. And he had a very clear idea of what he was going to do.
The next show he simply went over to the boy, grabbed him by the labels, tossed away that ridiculous cape of his and pushed them both over to the other side. He could hear the audience gasp and then cheer before smoke engulfed them and the boy screamed. The fires ate away at Lester’s clothes, and he started hissing in his father’s tongue, low and threatening.
“I thought we were friends,” the boy sobbed while clinging to Lester and damn his little human heart, Lester felt a bit sorry. Sorry enough to bring him back, but not after another round over the canyons of eternal pain and pretending to drop the boy there. They came back singed, the boy with clean trails of tears on his soot blackened face. He stared wide eyed at Lester who merely padded out some small flames on his coat and gave him a toothy grin.
Cynthia started to scream when the boy just dropped, even though he was not dead but fainted. Lester rolled his eyes.
This is why we can’t have nice things, he thought. Nice things shatter too easily. Daddy would have been so proud.
He hated to leave and forget about Cynthia, sweet little human Cynthia.
He tossed a few people into that canyon afterwards, for not much reason at all. He was careful with his visits though. Mostly so he wouldn’t have to meet family. Freedom came at a price.
At least he would not go to hell for what he did to the boy or the others after him. He was not welcome there anymore after going to Cambridge.
Sighing, Lester got up and walked to the end of the platform when he heard the train come in, his footprints leaving little puddles in the snow.
Meet Lester the half demon :D
Magician
His biggest trick was to appear normal. Like the bloke on the tram that sits in one of the seats opposite you and tries not to nod off. Or the guy in the grey suit that stands in line before you and orders a white coffee to go, no sugar, milk on the side.
He looked like a middle-school teacher, harmless in his cotton slacks and button down shirt. Everybody knew what a crook looked like, and if he was wearing a suit, it would be Prada or Armani or at least Dolce & Gabbana, but not some house brand like Lester wore. And Lester looked too English to be Bates from American Psycho anyway, too quiet and compliant and nice. And he wore a vest under his shirt. Lester knew he still was a crook, he was just good at hiding it.
There had been a time in his life where he had been very ambitious. Up to the point where it had cost him some things in his life. He had found himself financially independent but adrift at 35, no home, no family to come home to. Which had not worried him much at 35. He did not consider finding a wife after what had happened with the last one. Burned child and all.
Burned child, how fitting.
He spent time on trains and in the business districts of big cities, looking like your co-worker in the next cubicle, your golf buddy, the guy living across the street.
There had been a time when he had more hair too, when his receding hairline had not yet almost succeeded in meeting with the bald spot on his head. There had been a time when he still worked as part time magician at parties and gatherings. There had been a time when he had been in love.
Lester pondered this while he waited at the station for his tube. He was sitting down, as his knee started to bother him in cold weather. He watched the snow melt from his shoes, his toes cosy as always, as he pondered the past.
He reached into his right pocket, and felt for his gold coin, not yet taking it out, just touching the smooth sides of it.
When he had been younger, and had had more hair, he would do this coin trick. The one where you make the coin disappear and then reappear someplace else. Everybody thought it was a real neat slide of hands, and no one ever found out how Lester did it. It was easy really. You just needed some Demon genes, and know how to bend reality. Then you stuck the coin into another dimension and called it back. Worked like charm every time. He never gave that explanation though, just smiled slyly.
He could make bigger things disappear too. Like that collier at Tiffany’s. And let it reappear again later, say, in his apartment. It did not work with living things though, as he had to learn during a performance at a birthday party. The rabbit out of the hat trick had not worked as Lester had intended, and the attending parents had not been pleased. It had taken some time before Lester got hired again. It had not bothered him because of the loss of income, but on some deeper level. And because he had to buy a new pet rabbit for the birthday boy.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia,” she had said. When he had looked up from his book, he had seen she had been smiling too. And holding out her hand.
“Hi, Cynthia,” he had said, taking her hand in his, not shaking, just smiling, “I’m Lester.”
She had laughed at this, and he knew he had sounded old fashioned and a little nervous. He had sounded old fashioned from kindergarden on. Still she had smiled. Somebody else had called her name then, a group of other twens, young and happy, and she had waved over, turning but then looking back at him.
“See you around, Lester,” she had said.
If he could have stolen her, he would have.
Magic was a fickle thing. No matter what you’ve read about it, there are some things you can’t acquire by magic. Love, for example, luck, all those things starting with “L” like luscious hair. Lust, now that was easily acquired. Good old sex charm, easy spell too, but it could not make anyone stay, no matter how much mammal they actually still were. Foolish things, but not foolish enough.
So Cynthia fell in love with this other guy, the good looking type, eager but from a prosperous background. With chestnut hair and that toothpaste commercial smile. You could smell the upcoming inheritance from his well off parent for miles, at least Lester could. And it bugged him in a way nothing had ever bugged him before. Not the money, but the ease that came with being sure of what you are, who you are and where you will be in the upcoming years.
True, Lester had a lot more upcoming years.
It was some sick twist of fate that toothpaste boy would try and become a magician too. Lester frowned upon it, this silly human trying so hard to hide cards and coins, when the trick lay somewhere else entirely. He had to admit the boy was kind of good at it, getting cheers from the audience too. His audience, so it did not take long until Lester was seriously pissed and walked over.
“Oh, is that so,” the boy said, grinning and cocking his head. “Says who?”
There was the barely concealed disdain in his attitude; one Lester had come to know over the years.
I know your secrets, he wanted to tell the boy, your silly little secrets like that stack of skin mags with big breasted girls you keep behind your drawer. Or that picture of the girl next door you took with your fancy ass camera while she was completely oblivious. And naked. I know who you think of when you wank off and I know who you think off when you come, and he wouldn’t be pleased. I know all your secrets, and they aren’t as dark as you like to think.
Instead, Lester looked at the boy, and then at Cynthia who came to meet him.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “Lester, right?”
And he nodded, and left, because there was not much to do, not in front of her. He could hear the boy laugh and knew he was the butt of the joke again.
It was not like an open rivalry, more a pin prick when you did not expect it. The boy let pigeons appear and fly off, Lester countered and made people disappear. Forever. He did it only twice because it was causing too much of a stir.
Cynthia was at every single show the boy did, always sitting to the side of the makeshift stage, always smiling and breaking Lester’s heart. They both took up performing after one another, mostly doing small tricks, but sometimes the boy got that look and Lester knew he was in for some serious competition.
They did the vanishing act (Lester coming back a little smudged by the hell fires but otherwise fine), the solid-through-solid (Lester walked through a mirror, while the boy managed to not stab a girl to death), they cut a rope and fused it again (the boy of course using some slide of hands) and both got standing ovations. The boy came over, sheepish and not really a boy anymore.
“You were great, Lester,” he said, grinning up at Lester and rolling back and forth on his heels.
“You were,” Lester said, trying to think of something nice, “looking good in that cape.”
The boy laughed. It made Lester want to eat his face.
It was not about rivalry, Lester thought. Not at all. They were both successful at what they were doing, each in their own way. It was not jealousy, of course it wasn’t. How could it be, when she was such a tiny human thing, delicate in that human way, made of flesh and bone and breath.
He had met Cynthia once by chance and invited her for a milkshake. He remembered that she liked raspberry.
“Wow, you’re good,” she had said, eyes wide, when he ordered.
“I know,” he had answered, because it had been the truth. It had been easy to remember things like that, things she liked.
She had laughed and touched his arm.
“It’s funny that you too are friends,” she said after a while.
“What,” he said.
“You’re so quiet and calm. You hardly ever talk and Jared talks a mile an hour.”
Jared. The boy.
“Yes, he does.”
She laughed again.
It was then when he decided to do something about all this. And he had a very clear idea of what he was going to do.
The next show he simply went over to the boy, grabbed him by the labels, tossed away that ridiculous cape of his and pushed them both over to the other side. He could hear the audience gasp and then cheer before smoke engulfed them and the boy screamed. The fires ate away at Lester’s clothes, and he started hissing in his father’s tongue, low and threatening.
“I thought we were friends,” the boy sobbed while clinging to Lester and damn his little human heart, Lester felt a bit sorry. Sorry enough to bring him back, but not after another round over the canyons of eternal pain and pretending to drop the boy there. They came back singed, the boy with clean trails of tears on his soot blackened face. He stared wide eyed at Lester who merely padded out some small flames on his coat and gave him a toothy grin.
Cynthia started to scream when the boy just dropped, even though he was not dead but fainted. Lester rolled his eyes.
This is why we can’t have nice things, he thought. Nice things shatter too easily. Daddy would have been so proud.
He hated to leave and forget about Cynthia, sweet little human Cynthia.
He tossed a few people into that canyon afterwards, for not much reason at all. He was careful with his visits though. Mostly so he wouldn’t have to meet family. Freedom came at a price.
At least he would not go to hell for what he did to the boy or the others after him. He was not welcome there anymore after going to Cambridge.
Sighing, Lester got up and walked to the end of the platform when he heard the train come in, his footprints leaving little puddles in the snow.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 08:49 pm (UTC)I know all your secrets, and they aren’t as dark as you like to think.
hissing in his father’s tongue
canyons of eternal pain
This is why we can’t have nice things
He was not welcome there anymore after going to Cambridge.
I love this. Love it. \o/
no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 08:54 pm (UTC)Thank you, Berreh. <3 I'm so so happy you like it! I'm going to send it in after all, I guess. :D
no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 09:17 pm (UTC)