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A while ago there was a magician. But not just any magician with tricks with rabbits in hats and doves in coats A real magician with just truths and wonders for people to choose from. This is a story about that magician.
But he wasn't always like this; extremely tall, skinny, incredibly famous. In fact in the present time he isn't even this. Though that is in the present, and therefore, I will start from the very beginning.
His name is Jack Selsbith,a "youngster" living in a small city. It wasn't big, mind you, but at the same time wasn't an ordinary size either. But in this town he lives alone with his mother in an apartment.
You see, His father had passed away when he was at the age of eight years old. Now at the time, eight years of age, he had felt a sudden downturn of his life. He was just starting to find his place in his family, as a young boy playing baseball with his dad. It was that everlasting stereotype of a family. Everything seemed so normal with his life up until his father's death. Not even the doctors seemed to know the actual cause of his father's death, which made it even stranger. Jack's mother found Jack's mopiness most displeasing and had them both move away into the city, where they live in an apartment. With the cars honking in traffic and the people hustling and bustling to get to where they need to be in the so early of the morning, Jack couldn't help but feel himself having doubt in the world. Now I know as a writer that this is odd behavior for a boy at the age of nine and that someone should be over a death within a year. But honestly I believe that if it was a "tragedy" you would believe that you too would be wondering why the world is so cruel. They say that there are magnificant things out there. I say there are as well as much bad. But once again Jack began to ponder over his situation.
He thought over a few things such as his religious virtues, his motives, and of course his place as a person. He tended to look out the window as he did this. His mother was secptical about counciling but it was too much money and at his young age she could bare think of it. He continued to mope around the house even after she leaved every other day for work and she would hear from the neighbors about how she would delt with it. It worried her, for she was a good women, she was caring and compassionate, and if you were one of many at the navy man's funeral you haven't seen her cry since. Yes, the Selsbith household was very unfortunate. But they do miss the feeling of graditude to being alive.
Young Jack stayed in the house everyday and his mother gone to work full time. He wasn't to go to school because they were very poor, and the move wasn't any help. It was a huge move from one state to another.
They had lost quite a few things during the move. One of the moving vans had lost quite a few things on the way. This happened by only half way did the driver realize his trunk wasn't closed all the way. This trunk contained Jack's mother's curling iron and cooking set, his father's shippener and a chest full of possetions given to his family by his will, and Jack's autographed baseball from a yankee's game.
Yes sir Jack was thinking about that baseball right now. He thought about the game he'd gone to with his dad. He remembered how his dad caught it in thin air with his glove. Jack went though some boxes earlier and found it. He had it in his hand now. Feeling the fabric and the stiching on the glove. He thought back to when his dad had taken him after the game to meet the players. Man did his dad spend money on those tickets. The seats were great, the game was great, the experience was an aching memory to think about when he wasn't in the room with you.
Jack pushed the memory back and looedk back out the window. It was cloudy with a chance of sun later on. But for now the sky was a flat gray. The blank color in the sky stayed there so still as if a box had been put over the town. He sat there by the window and felt almost an emtiness by his hand, the glove. It was slipping from his hand, he closed his eyes and held it tightly not wanting to let go. He almost felt the warmth and compation that his father had when he held his hand that day going home to the loving mother having dinner already served at the table. He opened his eyes and pushed back the memory again.
It wasn't reality, not any more that is. He couldn't help think it was as real as the earth being a cube. He walked around the room, "It will never be true and I don't want it to be!" he yelled as he turned in frustration and tossed the glove in the direction he happened to be in. Unfortunately that direction was the window. By the time his face had softened from his anger and he had collected himself and look directly below the window, it was on the ground.
He stared at it as passerbyers ignorantly passed or even closely stepped on the glove. But they did nothing even if they had seen it. Jack, looking confused and dazed as ever continue to look at the glove with beckoning eyes, unknowing what to do.
He knew he wasn't to leave the apartment but within ten minutes he had his jacket and shoes on and was running downstairs. At the beginning of the stairway he'd started off slow, fearing he may fall, but then soon realized the sooner he'd get downstairs to the open sidewalk he's most likely see it there perfectly at ease.
But that wasn't the case. For when young Jack Selsbith got there, he found no glove. Instead he found an enormous croud of people. Some agnologing him, some not. He looked at the ground but all he saw was boots, shoes, and carry ons hanging low to the ground. He looked further on the sidewalk. To his dismay he saw four boys carring what looked like a bat, a ball, and a glove.