The invitation didn’t come in the mail. It arrived, as they all do, by magic.
This is what I mean. I was reaching for the sugar to put in my coffee one morning, and that’s when poof, it was in my hand. A green envelope, nice paper. Unlabeled. I opened it cautiously, as though it were a live thing. Inside, a simple white card inlayed with dull silver lettering, read:



Ms. Cathy Rosencroft,
You are invited to attend a performance of the legendary
MARVIN THE MAGNIFICENT
A master of illusion, mystery, magic and the arcane arts.
Also featuring,
MATILDA of MADRID
Together performing:
A night of wonders, horrors, and even, dare we speak
Of love?
One night only, this Saturday. By invitation only.
331 Revesplace, Eight PM



I set it down next to the newspaper and wondered about what to expect, and in doing so, realized that I was going to go. The sudden appearance in my hand, the odd poetry of the invitation, the invitation only part. Had I picked it up accidentally? Was this a scam?
There was only one way I’d ever know.

It was a small club with only about 20 seats and a tiny stage with dark satin curtains, there was a choking smell of pipe tobacco and spilled red wine. It was ten minutes till showtime and the place was filling up. I felt vaguely uneasy. What was I doing there? I watched a man in a suit with a dark expression take a seat in the back, and start to frown to himself. A pair of thirty-ish women exchanged warm smiles of recognition, and nothing more. And coming up to sit next to me, a lanky guy with an unruly crop of black hair, a casual smile and glance.
As if we knew each other already, he started talking, “So don’t you think it’s weird, there’s no one at the door.”
“Yea,” I said. “‘Please seat yourself.’ Who does that anymore?”
“Where’d you find the invitation?”
“I was reaching for the sugar.”
“I bit into an apple.”
“And it was in your mouth?”
“No, it was in the apple. In the middle.”
“Weird. Kinda creepy almost.”
“Woah, this place really filled up.”
“Yea, the lights are dimming already. I’m Cathy, by the way.”
“Andrew.”
The room darkened. Everyone was quiet.
“Announcing!” came a booming voice from everywhere. “An evening of magic, mystery, and even mayhem, the performance of Marvin the Magnificent, also featuring the amazing feats of strength and appetite from the lovely Matilda!
A couple of the stage lights came on. A man, presumably Marvin, was already standing by a microphone, dressed in a tuxedo. Applause broke out, sporadically.
“Thank you. Thank you for coming out this evening. I’m Marvin, your entertainer and host for this evening. I know some of you have seen my performance before, and indeed many of you are magicians yourselves, but there are also more than a few in attendance who’ve never before seen one of these types of show, and who had likely never heard of me prior to their invitation, and to them I’d like to extend a warm and polite welcome. I will, for the purposes of keeping the performance original, use many volunteers for this performance, and I encourage our new guests with these words: the easiest way to become comfortable with this act is to participate yourself.
“So without further delay, I will present my co-performer, the amazing Matilda.”
He took off his hat and laid it on the floor, then stepped back, looking down at it. A woman’s hand suddenly burst out of the hat, eliciting a gasp from one woman in the back, and a chuckle from almost everyone else. Another hand followed, and reaching out to the floor, pushed upwards.
The hat rose off the floor a couple inches. Another gasp. A bit more applause and laughter. I glanced over at Andrew, who was staring with a look of blank amazement.
The arms relaxed setting the hat down again. Once again they emerged, this time grasping the edge of the hat and appearing to push, as if there were someone trying to escape.
A head appeared. A mess of red hair over a pretty, intelligent face. She smiled and waved at the audience.
As we began applauding, she slid the hat “down” to her waist. Then she stopped, letting everyone take in what they’d seen, what they were seeing. Just to reinforce it, she stood up on her hands, and carried her abridged body over to the other side of the stage, before she resumed to extract herself from the hat. As she did so, Marvin walked back on to the stage, clapping.
“Thanks for the help,” said Matilda, jokingly.
“Now we can begin.” Marvin bent over to pick up his hat.
“You’re just beginning?”
“Why yes, I’m only just doing the introductions.”
“Well, why you’d bring me out? I don’t do anything till the second act. I’m getting back in the hat.” She snatched the hat from his hands and pulled it onto her head. Just as we’d seen her emerge from it, she now slowly disappeared into it. Marvin thew up his hands in mock defeat and smiled at the audience as the hat sunk lower, vanishing Matilda’s upper half, gradually her hips and legs, until once again, it seemed to be just a hat on the floor.
Marvin picked up the hat again, and put it on.
“Now, I suppose we’d better begin. For my first trick, I will need one volunteer.”
He had a certain confidence in the way he spoke, some kind of charm I couldn’t place. I was still processing what I’d seen, a whole woman appearing and disappearing into a hat, with no apparent possibility of a trap door or anything. But Marvin’s voice, the way he carried himself upright and still, as though nothing had or could go wrong, as though this were not terrifying, or miraculous, or supernatural, but merely fun.
Near the front, a girl about my age stood up. A natural blond, she walked up to the front and shook Marvin’s hand.
“Thank you. Do you mind if I call you Anna?”
“No, how did you know?”
“I invited you, of course. Now then, to begin — I’d like to introduce this first amusement with a story, of the ancient Rosthenians. Believing that one’s mind could never attain it’s full potential when attached to a body, these people perfected an art of separating the two. Now ordinarily, separation of the head from the body is irreversible, and results in death. But using certain methods, by tying a cord around the neck with a special knot, like so—”
Marvin produced a black silk cord, and smoothly tied it around Anna’s neck.
“And then, undoing the knot…”
He reached up and gently pulled on the string, which suddenly came free.
“You may harmlessly, and temporarily—”
He paused.
“Remove the head from the body!”
He lifted Anna’s stunned head a foot clear of her neck.
Applause broke out. Not rapidly. Some of us, myself and Andrew included, just sat there looking absolutely stunned before joining in. We were all pretty close to the stage, and could clearly see that there was no trickery at work.
As if he had to prove something more, Marvin walked to one end of the stage, and speaking to Anna’s head, had her walk her body to the other while she watched. He gestured for the applause to cease, and then walked back over to Anna and handed her head back to her. She didn’t put it on, but just held it under her arm.
It would have been scary, if she’d been scared. But she was beaming from ear to ear.
“Now,” said Marvin, “The Rosthenian’s used to spend weeks with their heads separated from their bodies, as an act of meditation. Anna is not so lucky. Hers will only remain separated for the rest of the show. But please, if you doubt the authenticity of this magic, come and have a word with her. Thank you Ana.”
Another round of applause as she sat down. I could see the outline of her neck from where I was sitting. I turned to try and catch Andrew’s eye. He smiled.
“That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said.
“Second-craziest. This other time, I saw a woman come out of a hat.”
I laughed.
“I will require another willing participant,” said Marvin. He turned to stage left, where, as if by magic, another young woman was standing up. She came forward.
“Welcome. Everyone, this is Mary. Now, Mary is going to help me expand on what we just witnessed. Certainly those Rosthenian might have been on to something. That knot they tied. Well, I’ve spent years researching it, and I’ve come to this revelation. It’s useless. You can do the same thing with electrical tape. Watch.”
Marvin picked up a roll of tape from the table behind him and cut off a strip. Taking Mary’s hand, he wrapped the bit around her wrist, and gave it a twist. Her hand came off in his, and he held it up for inspection. A bit of mild applause and laughter broke out. Mary inspected her wrist with a bit of cheerful anxiety on her face.
“In fact,” Marvin went on, “one scarcely needs any magical props at all. It’s possible to perform a disappearance using only an article of clothing. Hold out your arms please, dear.”
Mary did so, and Marvin, sticking her hand in his jacket pocket, took a hold of both her wrists and started to push. Inward. And almost — almost — as you might expect, her arms disappeared, just like he said they would. I mean they just slid into her like she was empty inside. Then, as if it were an afterthought, he took out her hand and pushed it in after.
“In this case,” continued Marvin, “Mary’s t-shirt serves as the magical prop, and indeed, you will find that the sleeves of it are now where she, let’s say, terminates. Mary, how does this feel?”
“I don’t know. A little bit like being tied up? Is there more?”
Some people laughed.
“I’m afraid you’ve had your turn. At least for now. Let’s give Mary her due!” He began to applaud.
Mary went to sit down.
Andrew turned to me. “I think you should volunteer.”
“I will if you do too.”
“This next bit will require two participants.” He turned, and looked directly at the two of us. Without hesitating, Andrew and I just stood up.