THE MAGICIAN

 

THE MAGICIAN

CHAPTER EIGHT: REVELATIONS

Santa Monica, Los Angeles

The rain fell hard on this dull gray day in long unbroken threads, stitching the sky to the earth as the funeral begun.

The clouds hung low and heavy, bruised with grief, as though the heavens themselves had come to mourn. Each drop struck the ground with quiet insistence, darkening the soil around the grace until it became a mirror of sorrow carried by those who stood there. Umbrellas bloomed like black flowers, trebling in the wind, their edges dripping tears they could not hold.

Richard Osborne had died, father to Damian Osborne and Clara Osborne, widowed by Loise Osborne. The funeral procession was less crowded in retrograde of Richard being a famous figure in the entertainment industry but that was his wish: Let me go silently like a thief in the night. He would say to Damian.

Damian was Richard’s favorite child. He always took care of his father with at most love and affection: the drunken nights, the household abuse and his illness all through his life. Cancer, they said it was, unbeatable and assuring for the kiss of death. The coffin rested beside the open grave, polished wood dulled by rain, its surface slick and cold.

They all wore black. Damian clad in a black tuxedo with a white shirt, Clara and Loise both wearing matching black dresses with black veils hiding their so-called grief. Loise seemed not to be taking it too well, tears trickled down her cheeks like a raging waterfall. She wiped the tears cascading off her ruddy cheeks with a black handkerchief. Her sorrow pierced through her like sharp glass leaving pangs of pain deep within her heart.

Dear Richard so much was left unsaid I hope you can forgive me she said under her breath as her hands were trembling. The pastor presided over the church rituals with long contemplating prayers that seemed as if he was chanting an old ancient missal from centuries ago. Close family and friends had their faces downcast. Nobody spoke; the rain swallowed the priests’ word with one huge gulp. The rain said everything words could not.

The priest finally closed his remarks and finally came the crescendo. The first shovelful of soil striking the coffin. A dull, final thud. After the coffin was lowered it was time to say goodbye a familiar gesture, they all had one another. Damian bent over the grave picked some soil and lunged it slightly to the ground so did Clara and Loise. Their faces down and long.

And in some kind of miracle from the gods, the rain stopped. Mist could be seen rising from the ground as if exasperating from its long toil. A colorful rainbow danced around the sky giving off yellowish purple hues striking the newly cleared blue sky. The scent of fresh air clouded them and it made breathing all the more easier.

The undertaker with his huge shovel appeared out of nowhere like a ghost. His overall garments torn and dusty and did not seem to care for the rain for he was soaked, drenched in sweat and rain. He was a cyclops one eye covered by an eye patch sling wrapped around his head. His front teeth were missing and his skin was wrinkly like that of an old man.

He bent over and covered the grave with soil with his huge spade haphazardly. When the last mourner had gone only the bereaved family stayed behind sulking like a wet dog. They paid their last respects, putting flowers over the grave. Moments later, they entered a taxi and hailed it to their motel.

They stepped inside the room, removed their mud filled dress shoes and proceeded to the dining table. They had ordered some Chinese food and were famished from the days’ activities. The silence was loud and deafening. Nobody spoke just the sound of food being devoured slowly.

“So, what’s next?” asked Damian childly.

“We will have to summon Trigon ourselves,” said Loise confidently.

“You want us to bargain with a cosmic entity which seeks to destroy all of mankind?” asked Damian shocked, his jaw dropping.

“We need to strike a bargain with him. He is too powerful…,” said Loise.

“That is bullshit. How are we going to conjure a demon, strike a bargain and loose the only fighting chance we have?” said Damian his blood boiling in anger.

“I am not going to lose another member my family. I cannot put you and your sister in that situation. I cannot risk that!” Loise said banging her visit on the table with a loud thud.

“Shut up Loise!” said Clara her eyes turning red as the blood moon.

“This was your plan all along. I knew you couldn’t be trusted…” Clara added almost summoning the DarkChild within her.

The hot kettle ringed with a hiss from the kitchen counter. Loise stood up surreptitiously and went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee for herself. Not saying a word. Clara stared at the checkered floor as if in a trance like spell casted on her, making her zombie-like.

Loise took a sip of her coffee and sat on the kitchen.

“You are a coward. You always have been!” shouted Clara in a huge cacophony of bass making the rest of the family tremble in fear.

She dashed to the door carrying a jacket. Slamming it behind her

Silence prevailed once again.

“Clara, wait!” said Loise, her voice cracking like a frog.

“You brought this on yourself!” shouted Damian as he followed her sister into the musty air outside.

Loise sat on the kitchen table not saying a word seeping on her coffee, her face looking disappointed as always. Lamenting on her life’s choices.