The Last Pinch

Jebediah Swann didn’t look like much of a hero. If you saw him walking down the street, you might think he was on his way to bingo or maybe about to feed pigeons in the park. But Jebediah wasn’t interested in retirement home card games or birds. He was interested in one thing: The Pinch.

And today, he was going to get it back.

It had taken him decades to track down the last traces of Adrian Velasco’s final performance—the one where the magician had vanished not just a ring, but his own career, and possibly, his life. Jebediah had been there. He had seen the trick go wrong. He had also been the one to make sure it went wrong.

But that was a long time ago, back when Jebediah was still young, still hungry for the limelight. Now he was an old man, and the only thing keeping him going was the promise of one final trick. The one that would set things right.

Or at least, put him back in control of his own fate.

The pawn shop bell chimed as he stepped inside. Cheap junk everywhere. Dust-covered watches, tarnished rings, cameras that hadn’t clicked in years. The woman behind the counter looked up, chewing gum, bored.

“Help you?” she asked, as if hoping he’d say no.

“I’m looking for something specific,” Jebediah rasped. “Something lost.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Buddy, everything in here’s lost. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He slid a yellowed newspaper clipping across the counter. The headline read: “Magician’s Pinch Vanishes at Last Show—Never Seen Again.”

The woman’s eyes flickered, a tiny spark of recognition before her face smoothed back into its bored mask. “That old story? You really believe that thing’s real?”

Jebediah’s voice was low, but firm. “I know it’s real.”

“Even if it was, how do you know it’s here?”

Jebediah smiled for the first time in days. “I’ve been following its trail for years. It always ends here.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “Whatever. I ain’t seen it. But you’re welcome to look around.”

Jebediah didn’t need her permission. He had already decided where to go next. He’d traced the object from a traveling circus to an old bank vault, and now to this dingy corner of the city. The docks were the last stop.

He turned and left the shop without another word. The door’s bell jingled behind him, but the woman didn’t even glance up. She didn’t know what was coming.

---

The mansion was the last place anyone would expect to find a treasure, which was why it was perfect. Hidden in plain sight, the dilapidated house was perched on the edge of the river, half-rotten, with windows boarded up and ivy crawling over its walls like it wanted to choke the life out of it.

Jebediah stood at the gate, leaning on his cane. His breath was shallow, but his eyes were sharp. He wasn’t here to sightsee.

With one hard shove, he pushed the gates open. They groaned in protest, but gave way. The fog rolled in thicker as he limped toward the house, the faint sound of water lapping at the docks echoing through the still air.

The front door was barely hanging on its hinges. He didn’t need a key. Inside, the house was worse than he imagined—dust and decay everywhere, like time had stopped caring about this place. But Jebediah wasn’t here for the scenery.

He moved through the rooms like he already knew where to go, stepping over collapsed beams and broken furniture, until he reached the back of the house.

There, in the smallest room, sat a single velvet-lined box on a pedestal, untouched by the rot around it.

Jebediah’s breath hitched as he opened the box, hands trembling.

Inside was a small brass cylinder, no bigger than a cigarette case. Unassuming, but humming with a quiet power that vibrated through the air. The Pinch.

His fingers wrapped around it, the cold metal warming instantly at his touch. It was real. After all these years, it was finally in his hands.

But then the air shifted.

Jebediah froze.

“Looking for something?” A voice slithered through the room like smoke.

He turned slowly. Standing in the doorway was a man in a worn, black coat. His face was gaunt, but his eyes burned with intensity. Jebediah hadn’t seen him in years, but he recognized him instantly.

Adrian Velasco.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Jebediah rasped.

Velasco’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Dead? No. Lost, perhaps. But I’m very much alive.”

Jebediah tightened his grip on the Pinch. “This belongs to me.”

“No,” Velasco said, stepping forward, his eyes locked on the cylinder. “It never belonged to you. You stole it once, and you’re trying to steal it again. But magic doesn’t work like that.”

“Magic,” Jebediah scoffed, even as he felt the pull of the object in his hands. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

Velasco tilted his head. “Then why are you so desperate to control it?”

Jebediah didn’t answer. His heart was pounding in his chest, his vision starting to blur. Time was running out, and he could feel it slipping through his fingers.

Velasco took another step forward, his hand outstretched. “Give it back, Jebediah. You know it’s not yours.”

Jebediah shook his head, backing away. “I need it. I need to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix the past,” Velasco said softly. “No matter how much power you have.”

Jebediah’s hands were shaking, but he held the Pinch tight. His mind was racing. He had come so far, given up so much. He couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close.

Velasco’s eyes darkened. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“I understand just fine,” Jebediah snapped, his voice rising. “I’ve been chasing this for years. I’ve earned this.”

“No one earns the Pinch,” Velasco said quietly. “It’s not something that can be owned.”

Jebediah’s grip tightened. “Then why do you want it back?”

Velasco’s smile was sad now. “To stop you from making the same mistake I did.”

Jebediah didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. With a quick motion, he pressed the Pinch against his chest and whispered the incantation that had haunted him for decades.

The air shimmered, and the world around him began to blur.

Velasco’s eyes widened. “No! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

But it was too late. The Pinch activated, and Jebediah felt the rush of power surge through him.

For a moment, everything was clear. His vision sharpened, his heart steadied, his mind felt alive. He could feel the world bending around him, time itself at his fingertips.

This was what he had been searching for. This was control.

But then, something went wrong.

The power shifted, slipping out of his grasp, spiraling out of control. The world around him began to warp, twisting and distorting. His body felt like it was being pulled apart, his mind unraveling.

“No,” Jebediah gasped, clutching the Pinch tighter. “No, this isn’t right.”

Velasco’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and cold. “You can’t control it. You never could.”

The room collapsed in on itself, and everything went black.

---

Jebediah opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor of the mansion, the Pinch still clutched in his hand. The room was dark and silent, the air heavy with dust and decay.

He struggled to sit up, his body aching, his mind spinning. What had just happened?

Velasco was gone. The house was empty.

Jebediah stared at the Pinch in his hand, the small brass cylinder that had consumed his life. It had promised power, control, but it had given him nothing but ruin.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat slower than the last. He could feel the end creeping closer, the weight of his years pressing down on him.

With a shaking hand, he set the Pinch down on the floor and pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t going to die here, in this rotting mansion, clutching at an illusion.

He limped to the door, leaving the Pinch behind.

As he stepped outside, the fog rolled in, thick and heavy. The docks stretched out before him, shrouded in mist.

He had spent his whole life chasing the Pinch, obsessed with control, with fixing the past. But now, as he stood on the edge of the river, he realized that the past couldn’t be fixed. It could only be accepted.

The Pinch had never been about power. It had always been about choice.

And for the first time in his life, Jebediah Swann chose to let go.