Illusionist - 7

Year: 2051
Date: 22nd of February
Time: 4:37 PM
His mother lay, sleeping, in the neat bed. Somewhere among the folds and bends rested her cold hands, wrinkled smile, and sweet kiss. The young boy began to pull himself up and on to the enormous mattress. He managed it at last and collapsed in a little heap, panting. A nurse outside the door heard the noise and slipped into the room, pulling the child up below the armpits and setting him on the floor. She knew he was merely denying everything. He knew his mother was ill, deathly so, but he just wouldn't accept it. The boy attempted to run back and she pushed him out of the door and into the hallway. She silently ushered him out into the warm sun and closed the door.
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The child in question was a young boy. His mother was ill with a horrible disease which was, sadly, curable but they had not the money. The boy barely remembered his father, he remembered a scene at a birthday where there were 5 rats dashing over his body. He had been giggling. He had been delighted. He also knew, through his mother's repetition, that his father's name was H. F. Thomas.
**********
The young child sat down and began to cry. His name was William J. Thomas. The J really stood for Jerry but he did not really care. He cried for a good while and then picked himself up. He tottered, swaying, slowly toward the grass where he promptly leaned over and threw the remains of his last meal into the gutter. He watched, satisfied but disgusted as the little chunks of chicken floated in a pool of green liquid. His throat burned and he sat under a tree. Soon enough, a tiny dog ran past him. The boy stood up, wiping his eyes and mouth in that order, and began to chase the tiny canine.The puppy ran into an alleyway and simply vanished. It had actually turned rapidly around a corner and slid through a tiny crack into the wall into his home. The boy's flip-flops echoed around the alleyway as he examined every little crack. He walked a while and made it to an enormous road where a white limousine deposited a man right in front of the boy's nose. He stepped back, quite startled, as the man pulled a white leather wallet out of his white pants. The whole man was white. His white top hat rested over a thick layer of white hair which brushed the top of the collar of his shirt. This shirt ran down to his wrist where it was met by a pair of white gloves. The gloves held a white cane and a tiny white wallet. Just below them were a pair of white pants which ran down to the man's white socks and white shoes. It was rather spectacular, the whole thing. The man himself had the hue of a Caucasian man with a barely noticeable tan. He had also managed, by some miracle, to grow himself a pure white mustache which ran out to the side of his face, curving upwards like a comical Italian man's would.The boy, at 3 feet 2, stared up at this 7 feet 6 behemoth, looming over him. He was not, however, actually paying attention to anything. A tiny light-bulb went off in his brain as he added two and two. The white man was completely alone with no marriage ring. The fantastic suit and limousine dictated that he was probably a rich man. A rich, single man. With his wallet in his hand. A switch clicked and the boy jumped up, swiftly snatching the man's wallet from his resting hand. The man himself made no move to retrieve his possession or indeed, ask his chauffeur to do so. He merely stood, watching, as the child made off with his tiny leather wallet. The man chuckled once, twice, before slipping out of his white leather shoes and giving chase. He ran with a miraculous stride. The child was running, chest pushed forward and head leaning back. The man pounded forward like some super athlete. He was not fast, but his position was perfect. He held his cane loosely in his left hand, tapping it occasionally on the cement. His head making a perfect line with his body. He did not attempt to run fast, merely extending his legs like some amazing acrobat and loping slowly forward.He reached even with the child and picked the whole boy up, extending his arm forward, placing it lightly on the ground, dropping his cane, sliding in a half-circle around the boy, and snatching the child up, passing control to his other arm and swiftly snatching up his cane. The man began elegantly striding back to his limousine. He stopped moving when the boy began to cry. The man set him down and began to ask what was wrong. The boy stammered a story between sobs about how his mother was sick and had no-one to take care of her and they had no money and he didn't want her to die. The man rested a finger on the child's forehead, barely touching him and the boy was instantly comforted.The man tapped his cane on the floor and began running toward the boy's house. He somehow managed to open the door without seemingly touching the handle and positively flew up the stairs, flapping enormous white wings that hadn't been there a second ago and weren't there a second later. His form flickered, like a bad reception and they were suddenly in the room. The boy's mother lay on the bed, in a drugged dream, her brow creased in a frown. The man placed the child down and took a his white, leather wallet.The boy watched, his eyes getting rounder by the second.The man placed the wallet on the bed.The mother rolled over in her sleep.A breeze blew through the open window and over the three different people. William J. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and the man was gone. Outside the window, a goose was soaring away into the sunset.A card drifted on a breeze and landed silently on the sill, perched perfectly for a second before slipping off the edge and vanishing in mid-air.The card read
Mr. Henry Fortwith Thomas
Illusionist
2013-2047
Accidental death with"3 Blind Mice
and
A Broken Cane"