Mothballs: Iron Path to the Black Forest (part 4)

It seemed as if every carriage on the train had been occupied by White Hoods, armed with thin hammers. With almighty swings, the White Hoods smashed the windows and picked up large pieces of machinery. Spinning barrels firing storms of projectiles sat on tripods, resting on the jagged frame that looked out at the darkness engulfing the forest. When the first Hood pulled their trigger, it was nothing but the ricker rack of gunfire for the rest of the night.
The Laurisden's were falling through the air, the Obscured Man's carriage far out of sight by the time they tumbled into the icy slush of the sloped sides. They rolled through the sludge, falling into a wiry net of brambles. They crushed a bushel of blackberries, spilling the inky juice through the snow. From a far, it may have appeared they'd been shot and killed, but they were very much alive. The three of them rolled to a stop and began to sink slowly into the new patch of snow they'd landed on, their bodies numbing in the cold. Bullets flew above them, pulling chips from the trees, but Aksel- who had studied the route the train took quite intently- knew any second the train would dip, allowing for more accurate fire. "We've got move into the forest. It's safer."
Septimus pulled himself up, Verity too, and they began to trek inside the forest, ducking beneath the spray of lead projectiles. The ground was tricky beneath their feet, at first crackly as broken leaves were finished off but then softer as their feet broke through the snow and the ice into the slippery mud  that lay beneath. The trees grew taller above them as they ran, their empty branches still blocking the last dregs of sunlight from the nights sky. The Laurisden's ran quickly through the dying light, kicking up globules of snow and leaf, scratching themselves as they raced through a bare bush, luckily not finding any bears inside it. It seemed to stretch on forever, the bush that is, until it spat them out. In front of a new pieces of railway.
The train raced in front of them, whipping up leaves and plastering the trees and bush behind them with bullet holes. The Laurisden's had dropped to the floor to escape the wrath, but they could feel it's rumbling penetrating the ground below them. The train seemed to go on forever until it disappeared beyond the trees, and the Laursiden's continued across the ever quivering lines and into the forest beyond. They delved further into the Black Forest, searching for separation from the loud clacking of the train, but it always seemed to catch up with them on tracks that Aksel didn't know existed. They'd passed endless tracks and dropped to the snow laid floor so many times that they were dripping wet and freezing, every inch of their dirtied skin prickled with the customary goose bumps that seem to travel with the cold like pilot fish with sharks. They collapsed and felt the snow beneath them soak in their clothes, freezing their skin. The three of them sunk down as the snow melted beneath their non existent body heat. A sharp feeling etched into Verity's shoulder, causing her to give a sudden scream.  Aksel and Septimus hurried over as she moved out of the way. There was nothing, no- what was that? It looked like a thin plate made of snow. And then it began to quiver and rumble, as vibrations raced through it. Little sheets of snow fell off and suddenly the train was in sight. The Laurisden's leap over the line and ran into the open beyond, their tired bodies struggling to carry on. The explosions of firing bullets remained present in their ears at all times and then suddenly Aksel screamed, falling to the floor. Liquid gushed from his right shoulder as he squirmed in pain. The snow was red, and it was't with squashed blackberry.

The Laurisden's will return

Mothballs: Iron Path to the Black Forest (part 3)

"Carriage 15!" Cried Septimus. He straightened his useless goggles and jumped down, Aksel ready to follow behind him. They landed with a thump and Septimus instantly drew his spanner and began to work on the door. He levered it around and around and then the handle fell out as the door clicked open. He pushed it open and stepped in. Aksel, wishing the freezing cold good riddance, walked in and then saw why his brother had frozen before him. A hoard of White Hooded Men, the carriers of the dead from Madame Bazarian's Freak Show, held guns, two facing towards the brothers and the third placed directly against Verity's head. "You let her go!" Aksel screamed, but was silenced immediately by the unwavering pose of the gun.
"Or what, young Mr Laurisden?" Asked a voice from the back of the room. He shivered. It was that of the Obscured Man, the voice of the devil incarnate to the Laurisdens. Aksel searched the room for the source of the voice and saw it was emerging from behind a straw veil facade in the far corner. Flickering bulbs in white lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating mock bookcases on the walls. Oak desks were positioned all around the room, holding leather rectangles and open books, ink fountain pens positioned randomly. In one corner there was a piano with a seat in front of it, next to a oak stove. First class was considerably nicer than the coal carriage they'd been staying in.
Aksel didn't have a reply, but the Obscured Man seemed to. "Exactly as I expected. You are simply disappointing."
"Tell me, what was your plan when you finally got here?" The Obscured Man demanded.
"To make you give us Sebastian." Septimus said.
"Why do you care about the cow so much?"
"Why do you?" Aksel instantly retorted.
"Clever answer. Mine is equally clever. You, Aksel Laurisden. You are a genius. How in the name of sanity did you manage to create a device that could make a cow talk?"
Aksel didn't answer. To answer would be what the Obscured Man wanted.
"It really is quite clever. And think of all your potential! All of this, it's a trap for you."
The old mission statement. Let them two get away, protect them. Three, two, one. He charged forwards, knocking the barrels of the guns to one side, grabbing Verity and throwing her out of the shot of the gun. It exploded a loud shot, tearing chunks out of the wall. All three White Hoods fell to the floor quickly and Septimus barged into the straw veil. He knocked it over hoping to catch the Obscured Man, but instead revealed a gramophone. "He was never in the room." He cried. "He'd already written the script." He turned to Aksel. "Much like you."
"Great minds think alike."
"Don't compliment the villain." Verity said.
The carriage shuddered. "What was that?" Aksel demanded. It shuddered again and the windows to the left smashed and more White Hoods jumped in. Verity, Aksel and Septimus jumped out of the right into the Black Forest to the sound of the gunfire.

Mothballs: Iron Path to the Black Forest (part 2)

Septimus swung the makeshift hook and straightened the rope, grinning. He stretched out his foot and kicked the window open, tossing the hook out and swinging it. The first swing, it failed. He swung again and failed to catch it. He tossed it up and heard the piece of metal from the spade clank onto the roof. He pulled the rope till it was fully stretched and then edged his way out of the tiny window. He thanked God for his makeshift goggles as they prevented a large pebble from piercing his eyes.
With all the skill and grace of a paralysed barnacle, he clambered onto the roof and dug his fingers into the roof. Verity came next, almost falling from the window, but one of Septimus' long, muscular arms grabbed her and heaved her up. She struggled on and glared at him, as Aksel wormed himself up as well. The wind pulled at their clothes, ripping at their hair and spattering against their goggles. Septum struggled to clamber to his feet, but as he moved, a gust of wind nearly made him fall back down. With his long fingers, he began to pull himself forwards and then climbed up, staggering through the darkness. He could hear Aksel and Verity's footsteps being pulled away by the wind.
They ran quickly but suddenly the train turned in a strange direction, sending them tumbling. Aksel flew off the side of the train but threw the hook quickly, tugging into the train and smashing into the side. As the passengers in the side of the carriage turned to look, they saw two pairs of legs scrambling up onto the roof. His body ached as he climbed up and he imagined that without Verity's childish lack of strength, he wouldn't have been able to get back up again. They continued down the train until it suddenly jolted onto the bridge and they all fell forwards. Verity stumbled down a gap between two carriages and merely her screams of terror, apprehension at being lost forever from her brothers, warned them that she'd fallen.
"Where is she?" Septimus cried, the howling winds ripping at his voice.
"I think she fell." Aksel replied, water beginning to dampen the interior of his goggles. "We need to go back for her."
Another twist in the bridge sent them both tumbling, cracking one of Septimus' lenses. "We can barely make the way ourselves." He thought a second. "Verity can you hear me?"
A muted shout replied, "Yes, I'm down here!"
Septimus cupped his hands around his mouth. "You need to make your way through the carriages. Your rucksack should have some tools in it. Use them how I showed you."
"Where should I go?"
Septimus had noticed when they first boarded that the number of each carriage was in the back right corner of the carriage painted in white numbering in the middle of a crimson square. He quickly checked it, carriage 24, and he shouted, "Carriage 15. That's the beginning of First Class, so that's where we'll meet you. Good luck."
"Thanks!" She shouted and was gone. Septimus and Aksel clambered up, the wind stinging at their now exposed eyes, and blistering their faces with salt. They began to run but found their selves weighed down by the wind and the cold. Aksel overtook Septimus and felt the tip of his toes pointing over the end of a carriage. Septimus ran into him and cried in shock as Aksel flailed his hands in a mad attempt to balance. Septimus put his hands on Aksel's shoulders and steadied him, and Aksel felt a tear trickle from his eye. His father had done that once, before it had all got too much. Septimus was similar in so many ways, the jutting chin, insatiable curiosity and tinkering. Too similar.
Steadied but not as aware as they'd want to be, the two Laurisden's continued across the train in the darkness, the shadow of the Black Forest far in front.

Below them, Verity stumbled through the carriages, avoiding the curious glare of the seated passengers. Every time she opened the door at the end and stepped into the next, she looked up into the dark chill and wondered whether Aksel and Septimus were jumping over head, progressing through the dark. She opened a door and stumbled into the next carriage, the lull returning and light burning her eyes. When the fizzles of light broke away, her sockets opened wider and wider. There in front was Sebastian. That was the good news which made her smile. Immediately her grin died as she saw the bad news. The White Hooded Men who guarded him.

Mothballs: Iron Path to the Black Forest

Aksel Laurisden had heard many tales about exotic travellers in faraway lands and, despite being reasonably clever, he'd always believed they could be true. Since they'd sold their every belonging to fund their pursuit of the Obscured Man, he'd discovered the ugly truth. They weren't.

Verity, his little sister, had been struggling to sleep. As Septimus, his older brother, had reminded him during those rare seconds of rest bite whilst Verity found the path to dreamland, she had always been closest to Sebastian, their pet cow.
The bouncing of the carriage on the rails of pure iron had managed to lull Verity asleep, and she lay under a rough blanket on the cold metal floor, her chest rising and falling with dainty movements. Aksel and Septimus had taken blocks of coal from the mound in the corner of the carriage they were stowed away in and used them to sketch images, from the hastily packed blue prints that Septimus had stuffed his bag with, onto the white panelled walls of the carriage. "Are you sure you heard nothing?" Aksel said.
"I'm sure. Why they're so interested in the speech collar I've no idea." Septimus replied. He smiled at the brilliantly redrawn blueprint, before turning his attention to a selection of maps he'd pinned to the floor. "According to our research, the Obscured Man took a hidden route to Germany, intending to board the train on the other side of the Canal d'Alsace. Our train stops just before the bridge in about an hour and by midnight we'll be over the bridge and pulling to a halt outside the train station. The train then stops and doesn't start till midday. Furthermore, the Obscured Man is expected to get off at the station after. The distance between is a days travel meaning we have a day to track him down and make him tell us where Sebastian is."
There was a scream behind them and they spun to see Verity waking up. Aksel rushed over and knelt down. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I've just had that nightmare again." She wiped a veil of sweat from her forehead and climbed up. "What's the plan then?"
Septimus repeated what he'd just said and then explained the plan itself. "When we stop just before the bridge, we jump off the train, leg it up the side and climb aboard at the back of first class. The Obscured Man is meant to be quite wealthy, so that's where will find him."
"What if the train sets off without us?" Asked Verity.
"I doubt it, and I'm sure we could find someway to get back on." Septimus replied, but he was as early as confident as he sounded.

An hour passed but there was no sign of slowing down. Septimus flipped open his fathers pocket watch to reassure himself. There was a skeleton key tightened to the chain, a faithful reminder that Time is the Key, and his finger graced against it as he moved up to straighten his hat. There was a box leading from one corner of the room to the other along the joust. Inside were several taunt wires. The taunt wires vibrated with messages, resent at checkpoints dotted along every three carriages. Septimus had spent the first two days they'd been on the train designing and building a device to read the wires and he applied it to them as a new message rattled through. "They're not stopping."
"What!" Aksel cried. "Why?"
Septimus retuned his gadget. "An anonymous passenger requested for them to hurry to the bridge."
"The Obscured Man." Aksel realised.
"But we won't be able to get to the front unless we do it now." Verity said.
Septimus estimated the odds in his head. "Aksel, did you bring the goggles?"
"Yes, why?" Aksel replied.
"We're going to need something to keep the smoke from our eyes."
"Why?" Demanded Verity. "Why would there be smoke in our eyes?"
"Because we're going over the top. We need to run across the top of the train."

Fandoms against cyberbullying

IT homework! It's probably the best of all homework, or so I think. It gives you a chance to use your imagination and express yourself, something that other subjects seem to want to prevent you from doing. My IT homework for this holiday was to make an advertisement about Cyberbullying. Which is why I created Fandoms Against Cyberbullying! Beneath you can find the kind of posters I made and feel free to share them with #FandomsVCyberbullying or share your own and include the hashtag. We need to get this trending, because Cyberbullying is wrong, and it's about time that Fandoms stood up to them!

The Haunting of Benjamin Creed

“Aye, it’s all done now, sir.” Said the fumigator. He was a mid height man with a dodgy accent, and his white suit included one of those masks you see people wearing when they spray paint cars, which only went to muffle his voice further.

“Good, good.” Replied Benjamin Creed. The years had been good to him personally, but not too good for his health. Thousands of hot dinners with extra trimmings and beer had left him with a tyre shape wealth of fat around his waist, and the inability to go more than a mile without his face flushing red. Even worse, however, he’d often noticed a small gap growing in the centre of his scalp, where his once voluminous amount of hair was beginning to ware away. He’d noticed that it was thinning and greying, but this black hole of sorts was even worse. “That’s an awful lot of equipment for some fumigators.”
“Not for the prices you’re paying them.” His wife Lucinda snapped. She didn’t have any complaints about him paying large amounts of money, she just didn’t like it when the money was spent on someone other than her. She was towering over him and had a tendency to wear dresses that made her look like she was mourning, and cause her to be mourning if someone was to point that out.

“Shush Lucinda.” Benjamin said, instantly regretting it. He felt a great pang burn into the back of his head, and reflected why he was going bald was quite obvious.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” The fumigator said, accepting the money in cash, and climbing into his black van. He couldn’t wait to get out of there, there was an eerie feel, but the long path beneath the tunnel of overhanging trees made it an unpleasant escape. There was a mile between the front of the mansion and the golden gates that entered out onto the private road which led between the mountains. As secluded manor houses go, that place would win awards. Everybody knew why it was so secluded, and had all those German Shepard's and rifles. But nobody would dare say why.

Six months passed like excitement of getting something you deeply wanted but didn’t need, and yet the fungus that the fumigators had eradicated didn’t come back. Lucinda realised they had done quite a good job, but she wouldn’t dare admit it, as that would mean she was accepting she was wrong. Her private car, a black BMW with blacked out windows, had delivered her into town that morning so that she good spend Benjamin’s money, all in cash that was stored behind the wall in the living room, on frocks and shoes she’d wear maybe once. As her chauffeur, the new one because the old guy had gone for an extended holiday, drove her down the mile and into the swinging arch in front of the mansion, she saw a collection of black Jaguars parked outside. She inhaled deeply.

The DeMattio’s.

They were the big family who owned most of the city. The commanding male figure was Luca DeMattio, an Italian immigrant who had moved here with his brothers in the 90’s. He was married to the closest thing Lucinda was one of his wives friends, which was how she’d met Benjamin at one of their parties. Benjamin was one of the DeMattio’s artists, until he’d been promoted to look after and restore the famous art that the DeMattio Brothers owned. He’d made a lot of money which was how he bought the great mansion in front of her. It was unlike Luca DeMattio to ever leave his Househole, nowadays he preferred to send his sons everywhere, but sure enough, the Stygian Beauty was parked outside the mansion that day.

She rushed in and found Benjamin and DeMattio in the drawing room with a hoard of his thugs, sons and brothers around him. Benjamin looked as if he was about to gulp. “Mr DeMattio, I would be honoured to do that for you. Please, give me the opportunity.”
“You would do wrong to fail me, Mr Creed.” DeMattio said. Despite having lived in England for twenty years, he still clung desperately to his Italian accent. It made him more threatening.

“How is your wife?” He asked.

“She’s fine, thank you.” Benjamin stuttered, despite Lucinda being stood directly next to him. 

“Good, I’d hate any harm to come to her.”
With that, he walked out, his assortment of accompanying people following. Benjamin was left in the armchair, shaking, although whether it was with fear or excitement he couldn’t tell. “He’s asked me to sell a painting for him. For 2.3 million.”

A smirk grew over Lucinda’s face, casting away any doubts about the tone of falseness in his voice. Think of all the dresses she could buy with that.

That night, Lucinda went to have her shower. She was stood beneath the jets of hot water when she looked down and saw the bottom of the separate shower was painted with blood. And crawling in the blood was a spider. She screamed, tripping out of the shower and falling to the floor. Benjamin rushed in and saw the scene in the shower. “Holy Jesus and Mary.” He muttered, a converted Catholic since his association with the DeMattio’s. He grabbed a flannel and used it to crush the spider into the bottom of the shower, watching as the blood engulfed it. He then washed the blood away and led his wife from the bathroom. He didn’t let on, but he was shivering again, with fear.

The following morning, he went into the bathroom to take a shower. He pulled open the steamed up glass door to the showering room and saw a giant spiders web stretching all over the room. He cursed and turned on the water supply and watched it being flushed down the drain. He spat on it to help it’s journey.

That night, there was no problem with the shower. Both of them washed quite successfully and climbed into bed. They spent an hour watching television on one of the twenty flat screen TV’s they had in the house and then turned it and the lights off, sinking into slumber. As Benjamin felt the first  drug of slumber drag him down, there was a deep thump beneath them. He ignored it, but again there was another. He tried to ignore that, but it got stronger and louder. He climbed out of bed and hurried downstairs, the throbbing getting louder and louder. And then, as he barged the door to the room below open, it stopped. He searched the room and then closed the door, only for the beating to start again. He opened the double doors and it stopped. Irritated, but a puzzle solver nonetheless, he left the doors open and returned to bed. As he tucked himself in, rolled over and closed his eyes, the beating began again as a shallow throb in the room upstairs. He put some cotton buds in his ears and went to sleep.

The next night, he fell asleep, having left the doors to the room above and below open. But then a glow played with the skin on the front of his eye lids and he began to shake. 

“What the hell is that?” He screamed. Furious, he climbed out of bed and marched towards the source of the glow, seeping in beneath the door. He threw open the door and he was blinded by a white flash. He fell back, smashing his head against the bed cabinet. His eyes reeled and he kicked the door shut. He flailed around on the floor and then that infernal drumming began to pick up from everything and everywhere. He screamed and crawled towards the door, as the green glow seeped through the bottom of the door. Benjamin pulled himself up, grabbed the handle and ripped it open. Silence. Darkness. As if it was all in his head. He really wished it wasn’t.

Lucinda was sat in the study, looking out at the tunnel of overhanging trees. It was the day of the big transaction.  Benjamin and host of DeMattio’s men had left the house in a rush that morning, driving their procession of black cars, each with tinted windows. Sometimes she joked that the windows were tinted so that the drug addicts wouldn’t see the dealer until it was too late, but that was usually met with a frown of disapproval. She’d had a member of staff make her some food and carry it up to the study, where she sat, looking out of the circular window, searching for the first signs of the cars returning. She saw that sign too early in the afternoon, as the cars accelerated too quickly down the little tunnel and into the drive. Seven had gone.

Six had come back.

She rushed down the great marble stair cases and into the hall as one of DeMattio’s men threw Benjamin threw the grand doors at the front and to the ground. “You stupid man! What in the name of the Virgin Mary did you think you were doing?”
“I’m sorry,  he just went for his gun and I got there first!”
“It was a cop you moron! You a cop killer now? Is that what you think we do?”

“I’m sorry!” Benjamin pleaded.

DeMattio’s man delivered a blow to his stomach. “You stupid man! That guy had kids and a family! Do you want to rob them? You are taking their only income! You should have got outta there, man!” Another kick.

DeMattio’s man pulled him up and took him into the kitchen, throwing him into the counter. “You idiot! You blinking idiot! Pedro, get me some soap!”
Pedro ran off and came back with a block of soap. DeMattio’s man took it and smudged it into Benjamin’s face, before pushing his face and hands into the sink and running a stream of steaming hot water. He rubbed and rubbed and for the second time, the water in that house was bloody. Once DeMattio’s man was sufficiently gratified, he pulled Benjamin out of the sink and threw him to the cold, stone floor. “Wait till I tell Luca DeMattio about this, amici,” the man chuckled, “he ain’t gonna be pleased!”

With that, DeMattio’s men marched out and Benjamin was left on the floor, panting for forgiveness.

Lucinda stepped in from where she was hiding and saw that light the water, Benjamin’s shirt was dyed red. By blood.


A few days past of seclusion induced paranoia, and Benjamin was looking worse for wear. More and more of his hair had fallen out, and the remaining strands were now grey with stress. His eyes were heavy and drawn, and the stubble beneath his nose was longer and dirtier. He hadn’t changed his clothes in the few days, simply sitting in a chair and muttering to himself, dark and neglected murmurings. Occasionally, Lucinda would try to talk to him, but that had resulted in the bruises and cuts that surrounded her eyes. She looked gaunt and hanging on decrepit now, the food having already run out, leaving her starving as Benjamin refused to let her leave the house.

Eventually, Benjamin decided to get up and go to bed, but as he washed his hands, blood oozed from the taps and covered his hands. Lucinda found him in the corner of the bathroom, cowering from his own hands that were splayed out before him, dripping. 

She cleaned his hands and took him to bed, holding back tears every time he lashed out and hit her. Then she put him in bed and turned out the lights. He writhed and turned and sweated in his sleep, so much that the bed shook and became damp. And then the giggling began. It was quiet at first, whispering it’s way around the room, until it amplified and began to giggle directly into Benjamin’s ear. He jerked up and heard the giggling run to the door, which slammed shut. He spun out of bed and ran to the door, grabbing the handle. It was slippy, but he managed to rip it open. He burst out into the corridor as something swooped past him, knocking him to the ground. The giggles got louder and louder, until they turned into cries. A similar green glow opened up at the far end of the hall. He trailed towards it, until it flared into bright lights. He fell back and two figures emerged. Children. Crying children. “You killed our farther.” The Girl cried.

“And in turn our mother.” The Boy sobbed.

“I did no such thing.” Benjamin protested, his voice quaking.

They crept towards him. “You have left us to poverty. We will no doubt die soon, all your fault.”
“I’m sorry.” Benjamin moaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“If you were really sorry, you never would have killed my father.” The Girl said.

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” Benjamin lied.

The children became dark and menacing phantoms, hanging over him with a vengeance. “Then why is his blood on your hands?”
Benjamin looked down and saw his hands were covered in blood. He screamed and ran to the bathroom to wash the blood from his hand and calm himself. He threw open the door and saw that the entire room was filled with spiders and spiderwebs. He screamed as his skin crawled and then raced out, itching, roaring through the corridors and out into the biting winds of the night. The gravel that Lucinda had insisted he covered the drive in bit into his feet, drawing blood, and the cold of the winter night rippled his flesh with goosebumps. The darkness of the seclusion and the silence of the night meant he could see and hear nothing except the desperate pumping of his clogged up heart, and the blood rushing through his ears. He broke into the forest that lined the road out, and long branches tore at his skin and pinged at his eyes. Beneath him, dying leaves broke apart beneath his feet. He smashed his head into a large hanging log, and a swelling grew. Blood trickled down his face and screamed. Then he heard the padding of multiple footsteps behind him and the howl of dogs on his tail. The German Shepherds that normally protected him were now hunting him down. They moved quickly, ducking under there trees that ripped skin from Benjamin’s arms. They caught up, moving quicker than he could possibly expect, and launched onto him, but he stepped back and fell. The pounding in his ears stopped, the rushing of his blood stopped as well. He simply fell and fell until he hit the ground and his back screamed in pain. But at least the dogs couldn’t get him. As he lay in silence, darkness and calm, he felt no upset. He was safe down here, in the darkness. Thank goodness!

A green glow opened, and then suddenly it exploded into white light that burnt his eyes and the beating throb of those infernal drums filled his ears. The two children stepped out in front of him and grabbed either of his arms, raising his hands to show them to him. They were dripping with the blood of the man he killed. The white light hurting his eyes, it then went all black.

The Ghost Boy released the arm and put gaffa tape over Benjamin’s mouth. He signalled for the lights to be turned down and they were, the flood lights disappearing and normal lights taking their place. He pulled off his costume and smiled at the Girl, Joan. “We did it!” He cried.

“Indeed we did, Spud.” She smiled.

“Your time with Peter is showing.” He pointed out as they climbed a ladder up into the forest and walked down the road to the house. Miss DeMode and a ground of Occult Bailiffs were stood around their vans in front of the house. “Is it done?” Miss DeMode asked.

“It is.” Joan grinned.

And so the Occult moved in…

The Four Jacks (part four)

//This post contains the answers to the titular magic trick, so don't read if you wish to avoid spoilers.// "Are you sure about this?" I asked the Infamous Blackburn. "A lot could go wrong."

"They say that about being a lollypop man/woman but it never deters them."

I gave him a sceptical stare, and then knocked on the glass window. Katie, sat in the hub of the helicopter, turned to look at me. "Shall we be off?"

"Yep." I replied.

She nodded and switched the engine on. "Next stop, the house of Charles Desole."

With a quick swinging of the propeller blades above us, the helicopter and the four of us were in the air. Jimmy grinned, "This was my first magic trick, so I guess it's appropriate it might be our last."

"What a lovely thought." I said.

The Four Jacks was one of the most famous card tricks that available to the general public. You perform it quite simply, with the main misdirection being in the story telling. The idea is, there are four robbers, in the form of the four jacks, and they plan to break into a building, just as we did.

The trick begins with the four jacks being shown to the audience, which is what we did, landing on top of Charles Desole's house and flaunting at the police below. The magic of the trick happened right then. The audience thinks that the magician puts four jacks on top of the deck, and so the police think that there are four jacks on top of the building, but in all reality, the magician has placed seven, as had we.

Desole had three members of staff, who were all going on their holidays a week before the break in, so we replaced them with three of our people. Desole predictably made his way up stairs to find our three members of staff tied to the floor. When he knelt down to untie them, a gas was released from the roof that caused him to fall unconscious. Then our insiders climbed up and knocked him unconscious also.  All the while, we're distracting the police by landing on the roof. There was no clock in the room where Desole was tied up, because then he couldn’t tell the police when he was knocked unconscious, thus ruining the illusion.

The second stage, which I guess I’ve already covered, is the infiltration of the deck. Three cards are taken from the top of the deck and placed at random intervals, one to represent the thief at the  basement, one to represent the thief at the ground floor and the third to represent the thief at the first floor. The magician would state that the three jacks had split throughout the house, and that one had remained on top as a sentry. In reality, the four jacks were still on top, and the decoys were split throughout the deck. Exactly what was happening as I think. 

Our decoy servants quickly ransacked the different floors of the house, messing the cheap stuff up and taking what was expensive, carrying it up and stuffing it into the helicopter before returning to Desole and tying themselves to the floor as the police officers entered. The trick ends with the four jacks remaining at the top revealing themselves, and that’s what we did, flying away as the police burst out.

I remember the Infamous Blackburn summing it up with the words, “We may not be Oceans Eleven, but boy are we good!”

We went for a Chinese afterwards, as what else are you going to do after you’ve pulled off a heist? Once that was finished, we went our separate ways, until we united at the studios to do the commentary for the show. It was during this that the Infamous Blackburn pointed out we hadn’t humiliated any police officers, so I vowed to do it, and I knew just how. We had a spy at the station and we got them to suggest that the culprit was a magician, and that it would be a good idea to investigate any magicians in the area, aka me! We staged the theatre so that when the policeman entered, we were in the lobby. 

I saw him enter, but I didn’t trust my faceblindness not to mess it up, so I strolled over to him and said, “You a policeman?”

“I don’t wear the stab vest and high vis jacket for fun.” He replied.
“Because I asked nicely.”
“Yes I am.” He replied.
“Hello Aaron, it’s nice to meet you.” I said.
“Well of course I could tell you, but it doesn’t mean you’ll believe me, and it certainly doesn’t mean that I have to.” I replied, resisting the temptation to wag my finger.
“The world isn’t, Aaron. The world isn’t.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me to the station.” He said.

“Lend me your warrant, please.” I said, putting my hand out.

“Why?”

I could tell he was curious as he begrudgingly handed it over, and I took his attention with me as I strolled over to the girl behind the desk. I’d briefed her, and told her to listen to me briefly, then look at the policeman, then me and then at the doors. She then pressed a green button and the doors clicked open. I slid the badge and card out of the wallet and swapped it for a My Little Pony membership card. Then I closed the wallet, handed it back and led him into the auditorium. I’d read his name from his card, and said, “I presume that you’re Aaron Cox.”

“Sir, you’re meant to call me PC Cox.”

I smirked. “I’ll call you Aaron, and you can call me Mr Fletcher.”

“Mr Fletcher, can you tell me where you were in the early morning of the 29th of September 2014?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” I said, watching him realise that I had a selective memory, before adding, “You couldn’t believe me, you see.”

“Then you could tell me.”

“You’re not being extremely helpful.”

“Sure.” I smiled.

“You’re not going to put up a fuss?” He asked, surprised.

“No, of course not.” I grinned. “Cause then you’ll just cuff me, and that would be a waste of time.”

Little did he know, there was a camera man filming the entire thing.

I embarrassed him at the station so much that he was suspended, and when he came back in revenge, I decided to put him out of his misery. “Is that Aaron?” I asked.

“No, Mr Fletcher. It’s PC Cox.” He replied, angrily."Is that Aaron?" He asked, as I thundered up the steps.

"Down with the formalities. It's Aaron, isn't it. Tell me, did you find your robbers?"

"No." He replied.

"Of course not, because there are no robbers."

"What do you mean there are no robbers?"

"I'm afraid I shan't be saying anymore unless you show me a warrant." I replied, smirking.

"Well, luckily for you, I have one with me." He said and whipped my card from my pocket.

I looked it up and down. "Don't take any offence here, please, but I don't like My Little Ponies."

Cox frowned and then turned the card. My Little Pony membership card. "What?" He said, searching through his pockets, but I couldn't find my card. "What have you done?"

"Breathed, a lot." I replied.

"I mean to my card." He exclaimed.

"Oh! I thought you meant over my entire life span. Well, I just handed it back then, if that's what you mean."

"Why are you so arrogant?" He demanded.

"Is that an official statement?" I asked, patronisingly.

"No." He said, his gaze to my eyes not wavering.

"Well, the answer is quite simple." I replied, giving in. "I and my friends Jimmy, Katie Morrissey and the Infamous Blackburn broke into the building, humiliated the Lancashire Constabulary and got away with it."

"What?" He demanded.

I gestured for a camera man to step from the wings, revealing he was filming our every moments. "Smile at the camera." I exclaimed, grinning.

The Infamous Blackburn and Fletcher will return at some point next year…

The Four Jacks (part 3)

//The following post contains an explanation of an iconic magic trick. Don't read if you wish to avoid spoilers!//
 "I'm sorry." I said. "Do I know you?"

"No, Mr Fletcher." The lady in the red dress said. "I'm just one of your fans. I work for Channel Four, in the department that deals with shows on Magic. We're thinking of a doing a show about magic and crime, and we'd like to recruit you."

I grinned and sat down in the lobby of the Channel Four building. "Tell me more."

Katie Morrissey was one of the best escapologists the country had to offer. I'd worked with her just the once on a group magician performance and it had been brilliant. The final trick that we had done was a recreation of Houdini's Water Chamber trick. I grinned at the memory of it. The crowd of a 1000 had expected Katie to do the trick, but instead I had, which had made it all the more impressive when I'd appeared at the back of the theatre and ran forward as she kicked open the chamber and climbed out. Of course, the magic trick was quite simply, even if it worked in a slightly different way to the original. At the beginning, I was lowered into the water, suspended by the ankles and as the locks on the top were locked, the locks on the bottom unclipped. Then Katie dropped a sheet was dropped on top of my chamber and the trapdoor opened into a pipe that led out into a pool. I was sucked down into the pool and climbed out, racing directly beneath the audience whilst being frantically dried by stage assistants. Meanwhile, Katie disappeared down a staircase out of sight and swam up the shoot, bolting the trapdoor as hoses in the corners of the chamber filled the chamber back up again. I then drew the audiences attention by shouting, "Over here!" ,whilst she undid the lid of the chamber and waited for me to whip away the cloth so she could jump out. It currently had over 50,000 views on Youtube.
The second member that they'd pulled together was Jimmy. He had no second name and was world famous for his prank tricks, like Saw the Football. He started by offering a deck of cards to a random member of the audience then burnt the card. Then he'd welcomed them to choose a random football from the selection. He'd drawn a saw and then asked her to cut it in half. As she was doing so, a character wearing a mask from Saw jumped out of nowhere to scare her half to death. Much to the annoyance of Jimmy, that'd only had 40,000 views.
The third member was the Infamous Blackburn, who I knew better as John Darwen, which was nearish to Blackburn hence the name. I also knew him as the man that had trained me in everything I knew, which it turned out was how I got this job. He was a tall man with the type of face and attitude that demanded a scarlet and black velvet cape along with a top hat and silver topped cane. He was known as the Infamous Blackburn due to a dice trick he once did without telling the venue holders in which he almost blew up the building they were in.
We were sat around a table in the Channel Four Building and the lady had a file. From it, she pulled a picture. "Anybody know who this?"
"Yes." We all moaned. It was Charles Desole, the famous critic. He'd given each and every one of us a bad review at least twice, and worst of all, he'd started a petition to have "The Infamous Blackburn and Fletcher" put out of the business. He was almost the perfect mark.
"The plan would be to break into his house and steal as much as we can whilst humiliating the police. Everything would be returned in the end and most of the work would be around filming the making of the heist."
"Could we put a bit in about humiliating the police?" The Infamous Blackburn asked.
We all laughed. "The Rozzers been upsetting you again, John?" I asked. He was infamous for being in trouble with the law, a great patron of the rock and roll age of Illusion.
"When aren't they?" Katie laughed.
"I'm sure we could work out something." The lady smiled.
"Baring the in mind," Jimmy said, "I reckon I've got a way to break in. If we were to blow the electricity, we could then race in under the cover of nightfall and drop a sedative gas into the air con."
"Let me stop you there." The lady said. "The house doesn't have air con and the channel would like the heist to include elements of magic. The house has two floors, a roof garden and a basement, and Mr Resole employs three members of staff."
I grinned. "The Four Jacks."
"None of us are called Jack." Jimmy pointed out. "But a great name for the show."
"No, I mean the magic trick!" I exclaimed. I drew a deck of cards from my bag and gave it a quick shuffle, then drew the four jacks and put them at the bottom. I fanned them out from the bottom and then realigned them. I took them from the deck and put them at the top and took the first card and put it at the bottom, then put the second half way through and the third just above, leaving the first at the top. "The Four Jacks, lost around the house. Then I give it a tap."
Then I drew the four cards from the top and showed them as the Four Jacks.
The others grinned and the lady said, "How did you do that?"
"A little bit of misdirection." I grinned.

To be concluded...