Magic Show

"Please! It's beginning!" Greg, my neighbor, hollered from the walkway.

"Which's beginning?" I said. Behind him, gatherings of children rushed down the road.

We'd moved to the area only weeks prior. I was modest; a bibliophile, trusting that school will begin. Greg was the main youngster I'd met.

"The enchanted show!" said Greg, exasperated. "At Mr. Hale's home!"

Toward the finish of the Hales' soil carport, lines of children were situated on the grass.

White-haired and exceptionally slight, Mr. Hale wore a dark formal hat and tails. In his grasp he held a wand, creating birds from a urn. He requested a worker to be cut down the middle. I lifted my hand. Nobody relaxed.

"Simply unwind," Mr. Hale murmured. "There's no reason to sweat it." I got into the crate and paused my breathing.

An aggregate pant went up. Also, when I arose in one piece, I was a star.