Tell A Tale in 500 Words

The Magic of Restoration By mia connor

The pier is empty. All life and magic has been sucked completely out. I remember, lights from the ferris wheels, the ‘oo’s or ‘aah’s at the mesmerising magicians that brought floods of people to the seafront. Not anymore. Not all magicians. Some went unnoticed. Few would give up. But one, one went too far.

Fear has struck hearts, minds and souls of all citizens who once flourished in the atmosphere of a never-resting town. The enchanter, Valentia, caused havoc in the streets, not as long ago as you might think.

However, the young Lefora still practices in the dead of night, alone, no mechanics or technology nor does she use a glamorous assistant or sneaky diversion to trick the make-believe audience. Occasionally, her younger brother will watch, wide-eyed and beaming with the hopefulness of a naïve child hoping for better days. Every night he has the chance to watch.

“Hush now Fernando.” She whispers sweetly holding his hand as they scurry like street-cats under the ensemble of starlight and midnight reflections over a sleeping black and white town. She sits him down on the log and kisses his cheek. Each time, handing him a strawberry lace and ruffling his hair. Making an unspoken promise in return that his future is just as sweet and vibrant as that strawberry lace. However, she would never use her powers to change the future and tamper with her dear little brother (A lesson learned from the devil-like Valentia).

She looks in his eyes to see an infestation of this damned night. Swirls of Distorted screams echoing throughout time and space, how vividly he remembers.

This triggered something within her.

Clouds rolled and roared over the sea crashing against the prongs that held the pier in place. Lefora stood at the end of the boardwalk; her eyes closed, concentrating on the foamy spray below. As the sky grumbles and casts a menacing shadow that desolates the town, the waves rise. Struggling to maintain control, her eyes tighten, her jaw clenches and without warning the ocean is raining down on the whole of Brighton pier.

A piercing shriek escapes Lefora’s mouth, although she isn’t quite sure if through excitement or fear. Lefora covers her eyes, her hand shaking as she lifts it. Within seconds, the water evaporates, dispersing through the atmosphere.

Absorbed through her ears is that classic old fairground tune, laughter of children, gasps of awe, excited lovers giggling in the streets. Absorbed through her nose is the smell of salt sea, freshly made candy floss, popcorn, famous Brighton chippies open for business once again. Finally building up the courage to face what she has done, Lefora moves her hand. Revealed is a mirror image is that godawful night, however there is no fear, no screaming, no Velentia to be seen. Yet a new wave of mesmerising magicians brought floods of people to the seafront once again.

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