I had been waiting for the magician to arrive for weeks. Maybe months. Ever sure it was announced he was going to appear in court, I had been coming every day. I had long been wanting to become a magician and play tricks on everyone around me so I needed to see the show for new ideas. I also was desperate to learn how to cast spells and brew potions, but the longer the magician stayed away, the more discouraged I became. My discouragement over the lack of a magic show didn’t compare to the wrath of the new pharaoh. At only nine years old, he was not ready to let go of his childhood, but was ready to use his power in whatever way he found necessary.
The young pharaoh’s staff slaved over his every whim to ensure they would survive the week. Hopefully the day. On days he woke up uncomfortable, he was a tyrant. And as horrible as those days were, it was unfortunate amount of luck that the magician showed up on one of those days. But now that he was here, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I camped out in the court so I could snag a front row seat to however many shows the magician put on. I don’t think my mouth ever left the ground. He was that amazing. When the snake came out of the basket, the entire crowd cheered. When the snake struck and the magician fell, we all cheered again. When he didn’t rise, everyone started chanting. Before long, we realized he was dead and the snake was not a part of the show, but belonged to the pharaoh.