Every Saturday, before we completed the family grocery shopping, my mother and father would take me to the store. I could feel it working its magic well before we entered. The owner chose to build the store between the town’s bank and council office; two older buildings that I’m sure resembled a time when Robert Greenvale had first discovered the city. The darkly painted concrete walls and the tall, glass windows crowded with numerous costumes and illusions made the store appear out of place. The enormous sign attached to the awning of the storefront had a pitch-black background with a red border that housed the words PM’s Emporium of Illusions written in a soothing white shade.
On the day the emporium opened, I stood in the street, watching in awe as PM himself addressed the townspeople from the store’s wooden veranda dressed in a shiny, red and black outfit complete with top hat and large, black boots. He delivered a captivating speech about the power of illusion before officially opening the store by using an over—sized pair of scissors to cut a thick, red ribbon tied to each of the posts holding up the storefront’s awning.
Nothing came close to the sense of wonder and excitement I felt looking through PM’s Emporium of Illusions for the first time. Once a week, PM changed the items on display in the window, showcasing any new arrivals with handwritten notes placed beside each item, highlighting the advancements made in the world of illusions. Before entering the store, we would invest some time discussing what had changed and what our first impressions were on any of the new illusions for sale. Although my mother and father were less scrupulous than me when it came to being impressed by the illusions, there were always rich discussions about the potential of each of the newer items. Today, however, I was speechless.
Three new illusions were added since we were here last Saturday. Two of them were unimaginative variations on classic illusions; one involving disappearing cards, the other an almost carbon copy of pulling a rabbit out of a hat expect this time involving pulling a frog out of a cardboard pond. Carefully positioned between each of those was an illusion I never dreamed could exist. I tugged at my mother’s dress, pointing at the window in disbelief. The illusion was in a black box with green trimmings and, in beautiful cursive writing across the front, were the words, Cloak of Invisibility. Without hesitation, my mother and father nodded at one another and the three of us entered the store.
My name is Gregg Savage and, every night when the house is quiet, I write and publish a free children’s story at dailytales.com.au for you to share and enjoy.
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