The largest crowd ever assembled gathered to watch the illusionist’s greatest work.
An event that promised to mark the beginning of the new scripture.
Speculation had mounted for days; and it was true, the speculation:
The illusionist was to disappear an entire country before their very eyes.
Up he stood on the pedestal, flames like beacons around him on the high stage.
Perspective lent him the height of a skyscraper, broader than a street.
There was the country he was to disappear behind him, and the eyes of the world in front of him.
The illusionist lifted his arms.
He spoke.
Brief. Beautiful.
So beautiful.
Such few words and he dropped his arms, and the country behind him ignited in flames.
Flames taller than the tallest building. Flames the breadth of the land.
“Thank you,” the illusionist said, acknowledging the quiet awe of the crowd, before descending from the stage and going back to running his own country.
Not a hair upon his head was moved. And his heart missed not a beat.
vss #53
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Phillip Drown 