4 Minutes

As he stood there, he could feel a slight tingle deep within his gut, hidden away, tucked beneath his stomach, coiled in between his innards, behind his instestines. It was the feeling that something wasn't right. It was the kind of nervous that lay dormant, only rearing forth to shock and make aware of unseen danger. He was nervous.

A magician should never be nervous.

Tonight was supposed to be his grandest spectacle - his last performance before he slid into retirement, disappearing from the public eye. Becoming a myth amongst his followers. His tricks would live on through word of mouth, tantalizing those who's ears it'd meet. It was supposed to be special that his last show - his most daring performance, was on Halloween. His manager pleaded against it, swearing it was a bad omen. Spirits walked free that night he'd warn. They liked to cause mischief.

As the crowd waited for him to perform his final trick, he noticed how the smoke lingered in the theatre air, dancing amongst the lights. Swirling endlessly. Hovering. Waiting. It made him uneasy. He felt it watching him, ready to encase him at any moment and whisk him away. He knew he had to push it out of his mind and so he did. Nerves couldn't play a roll in the last trick. He couldn't afford it.

It was a variation on Houdini's water tank. When he pulled off the curtain hiding the container, the crowd immediately began cheering and applauding. They waited with held breathes as his slowly lowered himself in. First his feet, than his lags, finally his waist. His hands and ankles were bound by thick rope, tied in knots that appeared to be impossible to tackle.

As many times as he had practiced it before, every time he lowered himself into the water, it took his breath away. This time was no different. It immediately reached down his throat and pulled the air out of his lungs. As he settled in, he mentally prepared himself. Four minutes. That was the magic number. He knew how long he could last. He'd counted in his head before, practiced with the lid off. Slow movements. Work the knots until they slipped free. From there he could slip out and stand to the side of the stage, waiting for the big reveal. He felt ready and glanced up at his stage hand, nodding. As the lid closed over his head, he slipped below the surface of the water. The liquid immediately filled his ears, muffling the noise of the theater. All he could easily make out was the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Once the curtain dropped, shrouding the tank, he began his escape. He sat for a minute, counting, lowering his heartbeat - letting his muscles relax. His knees hit the bottom of the tank and he drifted freely. The two minute mark passed in his head and he began slowly moving his wrists back and forth, loosing the ropes. He did so for the next thirty seconds. Once his hands were free, his ankles would be easy. By three minutes, his hands should be free, but they weren't. There was a problem. The ropes, even with the rocking back and forth of his wrists hadn't loosed. They felt tighter. The water had drawn them closer to the skin, pinching it. He began to move his arms more violently, ignoring the goal of remaining relaxed.

This was when feeling deep in his gut began to creep into the back of his head.

He was nearing the fourth minute and he still had made no progress. By now his mind was hazy from fear. He had lost count. He just wanted to get out of the tank - not allow the audience to see him slowly drowning.

That's when the curtain came up. He floated there, in front of the crowd, still bound, shaking in the tank. People gasped. Parents turned their children away from the sight on the stage.

They could see the terror in his eyes.

He opened his mouth once to let out a gargled scream but stopped before he wasted any air. The stage hand was next to the tank, climbing a ladder, key in hand to unlock the top, when the magician saw it, through the haze of the water, fall down to the floorboards, skipping across the wood until it disappeared between the slats. It was over.

People in the crowd were now screaming. Hystarical. He could see their mouths moving, but his ears were ringing, as if a train was barreling down a set of tracks straight for him. His lungs screamed. He could feel the vessels in his eyes beginning to burst.

The world around him was closing in. The edges of his sight were becoming black.

Thats when he saw the smoke wafting towards him, closing in on him. He was hoping he'd drown before it reached him.

He swore he reached six minutes before his world faded to black.

*******

When he woke, he sat straight up in bed. Shaking and coughing. Reaching over, he turned on the light next to his bed.

His whole bed was soaked through - the sheets clinging to his body.

Looking down, thats when he almost threw up.

Around his wrists was the perfect, still red indentation of ropes.