Chapter 2

It had been a few days since my last encounter with the magician. The last weeks of July were passing, and the new school year was approaching. I was uncertain about starting at a new school and already missed my friends from Denver. But maybe new beginnings wouldn’t be so bad.

It was a Friday night, and I had just gotten home from the arcade. My brother was out as usual, and my mom was working another graveyard shift. As I watched a new episode of “Goosebumps,” I decided to order pizza for the night. I placed the order, set the money my mom left me on top of the fridge near the door, and continued my show.

A little while later, as I was watching, I heard a knock on the door. I got the pizza, ate it, and kept watching. Sometime later, I heard another knock. It wasn’t late—it was around 7:00 p.m. I paused the TV and got up to answer the door, but as I reached for the handle, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach telling me not to open it. Instead, I quietly put the chain on and peeked through the peephole.

What I saw that night made me realize the “magician” was far more sinister than I’d thought. Standing on the porch was a child—a girl who looked my age—but something about her was off. The way she stood, how pale and wrong she looked, her dirty, bloody, and injured appearance—all of it was unsettling. But what truly disturbed me was the shadow behind her: tall, unmistakably a man, with a red top hat barely visible, the shadowy silhouette of a red suit and a cane. My breath caught at the sight.

For a moment, I was about to open the door and ask if the girl was okay, but she clearly wasn’t—not with that sad pout and the shadow looming behind her. God, it brought chills. There was no doubt in my mind that the magician behind her was him. But why was she on my doorstep? Was it a warning of what’s to come? Or maybe it was something even worse. I continued to stare at the girl—she was still standing there, unmoving. As much as I wanted to ask who she was and what she was doing here at this hour, I couldn’t. The more I looked at her, the more I saw in her face that she wasn’t here because she was lost. She was here to warn me.

The moment I realized this, the little girl must’ve gotten the message, because she faded into the night—just gone. I watched in horror as it happened. She was a ghost, and she was protecting me. From what? I wasn’t sure, but when I looked back through the peephole, the shadow of the magician was still there. It made me wonder why—if she was a ghost, wouldn’t the shadow leave too?

But I was wrong. The moment I thought that, the shadow moved closer—closer than it had ever been before. I froze. I could see the man clearly now; it really was him, in the flesh, with that disturbing grin on his face. My heart skipped a beat. I wanted this to be fake, like the little girl, for the shadow to disappear. But it wasn’t the case tonight.

I stood there, frozen, watching as the man knocked on the door, that grin never leaving his face. I didn’t answer, remembering how the little girl shook her head before fading away. She must have meant I shouldn’t open the door, so I didn’t. The man remained outside, knocking again—never saying a word, just knocking.

As I was about to yell at him to get the hell out before I called the cops, he suddenly looked to the side, as if he heard something, and then walked back to his van. I watched until the van was out of sight. I slumped against the door, taking slow, deep breaths to steady myself.

What the hell just happened? What did I just see? And more importantly, what does that girl have to do with the magician? I already knew he was a creep. But the way the little girl looked—she was dead, sure, but she still seemed wrong. That made me realize the “magician” isn’t just a creep who tries to talk to kids. He’s something much more sinister.