The Illusionist Veil

"The Illusionist's Veil Museum of Curiosities" is an 18th-century home in Stockholm's Old Town, a place steeped in mystery and dark elegance. The opulent foyer awaits visitors beyond the grand entrance, adorned with ornate chandeliers casting a flickering glow. Within, the exhibition captivates with an enchanted music box atop an intricately carved pedestal, playing a haunting melody without anyone touching its handle. The display of curiosities houses oddities like a tiny vial labelled "Elixir of life" that is said to shimmer at night, and our black cabinet houses haunted dolls that await release from their eternal curse.

This was the museum's description and Alex's current workplace. He had always been captivated by the mysteries of the unknown, especially in magic, so caring for a magician's museum was a dream come true. The older man owning the place was an odd type that rarely said more than a few words to Alex during the days, and when he did, they usually contained bits and pieces of sentences. Not that it mattered. Alex loved his job.

The bustling streets of Old Town were already filled with pedestrians talking on their phones or sitting outside the area's many cafés, and a street magician's tunes played further up the road as Alex took a turn towards the museum's entrance, tucked away at the end of a narrow street. Its crimson entrance was taller than the neighbouring doors, and a habitual tingling enveloped him as he grasped the handle. He loved that feeling. I was like the magic inside called out to him. 

The dimly lit interior on the inside carried the scent of musk and incense as he ventured into the room, where dark wood and red fabric embraced the exhibition. A painting of the magician himself hang on the wall. The man was draped in a black cloak with a vibrant red lining, holding a top hat typically associated with old-school magicians. Alex had always thought the man's profession was both suitable and peculiar. On the one hand, he did card- and saw-the-lady-in-half tricks; on the other, he owned a museum with oddities that he claimed contained real magic. Alex had asked him if he believed in the real kind's existence, but was always rewarded with the same half-understandable rubbish.

Alex put down his bag behind the counter before getting the register key from the safe below the desk. Everything here was ancient, technology and exhibition alike. 

"Alex?" the man called out from the backroom’s closed door.

"Yes," Alex responded. "It's me."

"Good, remember, we only take cash. I don't diddle doodle with those atrocious modernities of the outside people," he continued. 

"I know. Don't worry," Alex responded. You tell me this every morning.

Alex had always wondered what the man did in his private quarters. But had been told on his first day that the space was "for magicians only." And after that, he left it alone.

"Oh, and Alex," the voice sounded again.

"Yes?"

"No, diddling doodling."

"I promise," he responded again. It had taken some time to figure out what the phrase meant, but he'd got the hang of it and took the dust cloth to clean. 

The music box stood on its pedestal, and he admired its smooth surface as he polished it. Alex could swear he had heard it play by itself whenever he left the room, but it had always silenced when he came rushing back. 

He went over to the elixir, hoping it would radiate its enchanting glow. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side today either, so he polished its protective glass before shifting his focus to the mysterious black cabinet containing the collection of cursed dolls. 

They stared back at him, all eleven little faces neatly arranged in two rows – six on the top and five on the one below. An uneven number. He wasn't well-versed in numerology but knew that numbers not divisible by two were associated with bad luck, much like the notorious number thirteen. 

One of the dolls had fallen to its side, and he pulled the cabinet open to put it back upright when the door to the back opened. The magician came running out, wearing his complete old-school-magician ensemble. He rustled in the drawers beneath the register. Turning every object he could find. 

"You looking for anything special?" Alex asked.

"Yes, yes. I need," the man stopped. "Alex! What did I say? No, diddling doodling!"

"I know. And I don't. Just putting the dolls back in their places. Number one had fallen over again."

"Good, do it fast and then seal the doors. They are cursed, my wooden children. And I don't want it to slip out. Now, don't disturb me. I'm preparing a new performance. My greatest one yet."

"Will do," Alex answered and closed the doors. He turned towards his boss, wanting to once again ask if that meant he believed in real magic, only to be met by the backroom door slamming shut.

"Guess you found what you were looking for," Alex mumbled to himself. He went back to the counter just to find every drawer opened. They all contained different kinds of messes of photographs, handwritten notes, and other odd things that could create an exhibition on their own. Alex sighed and closed them.

The day went on quickly, with people coming and going. Some wanted to meet the magician, but Alex always had to turn them away, and between that and ticket sales, he spent his day explaining the different oddities and chasing away children that didn't respect the do not touch- signs.

The next day when he arrived, he was surprised to see the magician standing behind the counter. He was rarely out of his room at this time. Or ever. 

"Good morning," Alex said, smiling.

The man literary jumped as if Alex had been a burglar or a ghoul. "Yes, yes. Morning," he responded and started to collect a group of photos from the counter.

"Is that to the new act?"

The man stilled his movements. "Yes, yes," he murmured. "My greatest one. I must be very meticulous. Nothing can go wrong." Then he aimed for the door behind him.

"Can I ask what it is about?" Alex shouted behind him. 

The man stilled again. Hugging the papers like they were his children. "Disappearance act. Very tricky. Extremely dangerous."

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No, no! Stupid boy. A magician never reveals his secret.” Then he slammed the door behind him.

You seem to have that trick handled already, Alex thought, smirking at his own bad joke.

He was about to go to the register when he stopped. The black cabinet was visible from where he stood, and he saw how doll number one had fallen again. He carefully opened the doors to prevent her from falling out and was about to put her back in her position, when something touched his fingertips. A photograph lay beneath her skirt, and he pulled it out. 

The girl in the picture shared her face with the doll. He'd seen it many times before. She sat on a chair with a magician's top hat in her lap, but the sad expression always caught his attention. It was like the child wanted to communicate through the photograph. 

Alex put it back where he found it. There were pictures under all the dolls, all resembling their doll-shaped counterparts. The people that the magician claimed to inhabit the dolls. Alex closed the doors as a chill slid over his back. No, diddling doodling. Don't let them out, he thought.

The rest of the day was as the day before, but with a bit more people, and as the day ended, he yawned, happy it was time to go. He collected his things, only to find a folder on the floor. One with his name on it. Alex looked over his shoulder before picking it up. Inside were his credentials from school and copies of his diplomas. Everything he sent when he applied for this job, except for his resume. 

For a second, he thought the man was about to replace him, a feeling he soon shuck off. The folder must have fallen out when the man gathered … whatever he had collected this morning. And his resume probably fell out at the same time. It wouldn't surprise him if it got stuck beneath the counter. He placed everything in a random drawer before putting on his backpack. 

"I'm leaving now."

The sound of a lock turning appeared, and the man opened a crack in his door. "We closed? Good. We'll see each other tomorrow."

"Yes, have a good…."

"You mentioned you're from out of town, right?" the magician asked with his face pressed between the door and its doorframe, as he was afraid Alex would barge in if he opened it more than necessary. Alex was stunned. This was the first time since the interview that the man showed interest in him. 

"Eh, yeah. I'm from…."

"No need for details. You can go," the man finished, retreating into the backroom.

Alex remained, staring at the closed passageway before laughing. The magician really was weird.

The following day, he arrived earlier than usual, just to be met by the same doll lying sideways in the cabinet. Alex was about to fix it when the magician called from his room.

"Alex?"

"Yes." 

 "I need you to carry a box to the basement. Very important, no diddling doodling."

Alex was about to ask what was in it, but changed his mind. The box was surprisingly lightweight as he descended the narrow staircase. The basement was quite cramped, forcing him to hunch over to avoid hitting his head on the way down.

He placed the box on the floor but then stopped in his tracks. A lit candle stood on the table on the other side of the room. He looked back towards the staircase but found himself alone and approached the table. 

Some wooden scraps lay beside the base of the candle, together with a piece of paper covered by wooden lumps. He turned the biggest one around. 

After that, his heart skipped a beat.

The wooden piece was a doll's head, one that bore an uncanny resemblance to him. Beneath sat his resume, complete with his photograph. 

Alex instinctively stepped back, but before he could turn around, a cloud of black smoke enveloped him, pulling him into unconsciousness.

His head felt like the inside of a drum when he finally regained consciousness. He tried to move, only to find his limbs tied to a wooden table in the middle of the dimly lit basement, now illuminated by numerous flickering candles, casting eerie shadows on the walls. 

Panic washed over him as he tugged at his restraints without managing to break free. He let his head fall back towards the tabletop, breathless and shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his body.

"Good, you are awake," said a voice from the darkness. The magician came forward. Now missing his traditional ensemble that had been replaced by a dark cloak whit a hood.

"What are you doing. Let me go!" Alex yelled.

"No, the boy can not leave. I need him for my disappearance act. As I said, it will be my greatest one yet." 

"So …. what? You are going to make me disappear?"

"No, and yes," the man answered, tilting his head and grimly smiling. "We are both going to disappear. With the difference that you are going to die, and I will live forever. Master has promised me. I give him twelve souls, and he let me join him in his kingdom to learn real magic. No more "diddle doodling hocus pocus "- nonsense. He asked for ten girls and two boys, and I delivered." He raised his hand, revealing a dagger. 

"You are insane," Alex screamed. 

"No, I'm the sane one. The one that knows the truth. Master has shown me. You should feel honoured. A magician never reveals his secret, except for the one included in the trick. So, I hope you are happy, Alex. Now you finally get the answers to your questions." Then he aimed the dagger at Alex's stomach. Alex pulled at his restraints as the knife came rushing towards him, throwing himself to the side, making the knife miss its mark and plant itself in his hip, making him scream in pain.

"Stupid boy," the man mumbled, lifting a yellow glass vessel from the floor. You only gave yourself more pain. Not that it matters. The Master will collect you now," the man finished, pulling up the elixir of life from his pocket before removing its cork with his teeth. He exhaled, and then raised it and the glass vessel up in the air. "For my Master!" he yelled, pouring the elixir into the other glass container, which burst into flames.

A silence so thick it felt deafening filled the room.

"He wanted twelve souls?" Alex whispered, crying in pain. "And two of them needed to be boys?"

The magician smirked. Still waiting for the glory he had been promised. "Yes.”

"So why did you disappoint him?" 

The magician twitched. "What lies does the boy say?" he sneered, lowering the jars. 

Alex turned his face towards the magician. His eyes now pitch black. "You only gave him eleven before lightening the vessel. Why are you such a bad servant?"

The man pulled back in fear. "No, I gave twelve. Who are you? Why do you tell lies?"

The smile that spread on Alex's lips made the man stumble back and fall to the floor. 

"Don't you recognize me, papa?" the words sounded distorted. "Can't you see who I am," Alex continued, his voice dying out as his skin started to morph into a melting mass, tearing from his body. 

The magician screamed and turned around to run, when the door closed by an invisible hand, locking itself shut. The man turned back towards Alex, the one he thought would be his salvation.

The skin continued to melt, falling off the table's edge, but where the man expected a skeleton, he found a wooden doll. The same one that used to sit in the first spot in his black cabinet. 

"What about now, papa? Do you recognize me?" The doll fell to its side to roll over the table's edge. Its legs were unstable and stiff when it got up, watching the magician with eyes made of glass. 

"You- you can't be? I killed you!" the magicians stuttered.

"Yes, papa. And then you turned me into one of your magical toys. Do you remember? You used to dress me up like a girl. Wanted me to be your lovely assistant. You always told me what a disappointment I was, being born as a boy and not the daughter you dreamed of. So, you treated me like a doll, and tried to turn me into a perfect girl. But I was a real boy, and you killed me when I tried to escape." The doll came closer. "And not even in my death did you let me be the boy I wanted to be. Even in death, you dressed my doll body as the daughter you wished for."

The little body moved closer towards the magician, who crawled backwards until the wall blocked his way. 

"Then you locked me in. Called me cursed, and then he came to you. Didn't he, papa? The demon you call Master. He promised you many good things. All you had to do was to obey. But you failed, papa. You lighted the vessel after only eleven souls."

"You tricked me! Stupid boy. Never doing what I wanted. You are my son. I own you!"

"You own no one" The doll moved closer to him. "And soon, you will be no one." 

"What does the stupid boy mean? He might have tricked me. But he is still just a doll!"

"Yes, papa. You turned me into this. But then a fairy godmother came. And she told me a secret."

"What are you talking about? Fairies aren't real. Only demons."

"No, papa. There are so many things you don't know about this world. As the fact that it doesn't matter who starts a ritual; the only important thing, is who finishes it, and for who. So, my fairy lent me this body, along with its memories. The young man who owned it passed away just before. He had no family, so rarely anyone missed it. She said I should use it until I could break free from you, and then she promised me a new one, a boy’s body, and a place in her home for forgotten children, people just like me. The only thing I needed to do, was to keep the bargain you failed." The doll gripped the knife that had fallen to the floor. "The spell you set up demands two males, papa. And as you said, I'm already dead."