Trick of the Mind - 01 by Maeryn Lamonte Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge — Written From The Heart Maybe a bit of a cheat since I already wrote 74,000 words, but if I top 115k by the end it should still count, right? Thanks to Wren Erendae Phoenix for editing/proofing. Richard — University Student Not a fan of hypnotists, but is persuaded to go to a show at the student bar. Gets invited up on stage where things get interesting. Thanks to Wren Erendae Phoenix for the edit/proof, and for the constant prods to get this started.

There was a loud thump and the door to my room flew open.

The whole effect would have been far more impressive if it hadn’t been for the strategically placed pile of laundry preventing the door handle from gouging even more of my deposit out of the wall. In fact I barely noticed that anything had happened before an enormous mountain of humanity stepped into the room, directed an inane grin my way and said something.

I closed my book on my finger and pulled the earbuds out of my ears. The music receded to a tinny whisper.

“Hi Dave. What d’you say?”

“I said I made you jump Rabbit.”

I let my head drop back onto my pillow and let out an exasperated sigh.

I should explain something here. Dave and I are friends and have been since we both arrived back in September when he first kicked my door in. It was something he had been trying out on all the freshers in our hall and apparently my ‘rabbit in the headlights’ look had been the best of the lot. He’d insisted on calling me Rabbit ever since, and the door kicking became a daily routine; never exactly at the same time, and sometimes more than once in the course of a day. I’d done my best to turn his sudden arrivals into non-events by playing them down and ignoring him, but Dave seemed locked into his own private world, where I jumped out of my skin every time just like the first time.
What he doesn’t know is I was far less shocked by the sound and surprise of having my door stoved in than I was with what he might have seen had he burst in just two seconds earlier while my dresser drawer was still open. Later that night when I was sure he was in his room and sleeping, I’d quietly removed the contents of that drawer and put them back in my suitcase out of temptation's reach, knowing that I couldn’t risk being caught.

Whatever! Regardless of the annoyance of Dave’s regular invasions, he and I became good friends during that first term. He dined out for a few weeks on the rabbit story, and by that time figured out that I was someone he could come to if when had problems with his study. He isn’t the brightest match in the box (less charitable people have suggested that the only reason he made it into uni was because the-powers-that-be wanted him on the rugby team), but he has a very endearing, brash self-confidence about him which makes him instantly likeable. What’s more, and I’m not particularly proud of this, I do catch a small amount of reflected limelight from being around him.

“You coming down the bar tonight Rabbit?”

I waved the book at him and shook my head, “Sorry Dave, Higg’s told us to expect a test on quantum physics on Monday to give him some idea on what we’ve learned since Christmas, and I’m only now realising how much I’ve forgotten.”

“Aw, come on Richard, it’s Friday night! You have all weekend to plough through that rubbish. Can’t you let your hair down just once in a while?”

To be honest I had been hoping he’d go down to the bar on his own tonight and give me a few hours of uninterrupted peace when maybe just once I could dig out the contents of my suitcase.

“Jennifer’s going to be there.”

He was trying not to smile, but the guy knows how to push my buttons. I get all tongue-tied around her, then spend hours afterwards agonising over how much of a prat I am, but he knows I’d never miss a chance to be anywhere she’s going to be. I let out a sigh and climbed off the bed.

“OK, you win.”

Dave pumped the air and let out a ‘yes’ that was more sibilance than word while I walked over to the mirror and started to comb my hair. A second later he threw my jacket at me.

“Come on Rabbit, you look beautiful,” and with that he walked out the door with me scrambling to follow.

The place was crowded, but that didn’t faze Dave, he sauntered up to the bar and yelled to one of the barmen. As big as he is, very few people voice their objections when he jumps the queue, and a couple of minutes later we were downing our first pints of the evening.

“What’s happening tonight?” I yelled into his ear, “I can’t remember when I’ve seen the place so packed.”

Dave pointed at a poster on a nearby wall. “Local entertainment,” he shouted back. “Remember that hypnotist guy we were discussing at lunch the other day? He’s on tonight. He’s supposed to be really good, maybe he can cure you of that tendency to jump whenever anyone opens the door.”

Dave was too busy laughing at his own joke to notice my disquiet. I don’t like hypnotists and in our discussion had given a good rant on how I thought most were frauds, and the few of them who could actually do what they claimed, were nothing more than vindictive sadists who got their kicks out of embarrassing other people. I was beginning to suspect that Dave had something planned, and I would have left then and there had Jennifer not chosen that moment to walk in.

Dave waved her over and she sat next to me while he headed off to fill her drinks order.

“Hi Richard, I didn’t think you liked this sort of thing,” she said indicating the poster.

“Er, well, er, not really,” I managed, inwardly cringing at my lack of eloquence. “It was Dave’s idea.”

My heart was pounding and I dangled my lips in my beer in an attempt to escape any further embarrassment. Luckily Dave came back with Jen’s drink and a couple of fresh pints each for us and the awkwardness eased.

“The show’s about to start,” he said nodding at the clock behind us, “I thought I’d get us a few in beforehand so we don’t miss anything.”

I bobbed my head in acknowledgement and a few moments later the house lights dimmed. One of the bar staff walked up to the microphone and introduced the rather unassuming looking and unimaginatively named ‘Mysterio’ to the stage. There was a smatter of applause and one or two cat-calls which died away to an expectant hush as Mysterio took the microphone from its stand.

I’ll give the man his due, he was quite a showman. I mean there was nothing particularly original about his act, but his voice was compelling. His first reluctant volunteer admitted to being a little clumsy and a few minutes later was juggling three, then four then five balls to her apparent amazement. I suspected her to be a plant, but whether this was true or not, the hands went up more readily after that and the show degenerated into the expected parade of chicken impressions, guys named Sue, girls believing they were wearing only their underwear and other similar humiliations.

As the set drew towards its close, the great Mysterio roused the last of his victims with an instruction to wake up refreshed and contented, and turned towards the crowd one last time.

“I know there are some of you who don’t believe what you have seen tonight. You think that all of these people who have come up on stage tonight and so kindly volunteered have been either in on the act or highly suggestible; weak minded if you will.

“This next bit doesn’t always work so this is a bit of a risk on my part, but if there are any sceptics in the audience, I‘d like to give you the opportunity of proving yourself right. If you are confident that I can’t hypnotise you, then why not come on up here and prove your point? You talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?”

All this time Dave was fidgeting in his seat. I felt the knot grow in my stomach, and a moment later as Mysterio gave out his challenge, he started waving his arms and pointing at me. The spotlight turned and I found myself pinned by it.

“Sir,” said Mysterio. “Would you please tell us your name?”

“Er, Richard,” I replied, still the embodiment of razor sharp wit.

“Richard, your friend thinks you have some doubts about my power, is that true?”

“I guess so.” As I said, really doing well with the comebacks. For the second time since I had met David, I felt like a rabbit staring down a car.

“Well Richard, are you convinced enough that you can resist my powers? Are you prepared to come up here and show the audience tonight that your will is stronger than mine?”

It was foolish I know, but with David pushing me and everyone else staring at me I couldn’t back down. This guy had annoyed me with the way he had humiliated so many people tonight, and I guess I really was sceptical about his abilities. I stood up and walked to the stage with applause ringing in my ears. It stood to reason that he was going to reserve his greatest humiliation for an unbeliever like myself so I was going to have to stand up to him no matter what.

The audience went quiet, they guy started to twist the chain of a pocket watch, making the watch spin back and forth catching the light. He started speaking in his relaxed voice telling me to keep my eye on the watch. I started repeating differential equations in my head trying to keep focused and not listening to what he was saying, but after a while there was a disjointed moment and I found myself looking at Mysterio as he looked back at me with a smug look on his face.

“What?” I asked, still managing to maintain the high level of verbal dexterity that had carried me through the evening this far.

“You tell me,” Mysterio replied with a shrug. “Does anything seem different? Unusual? Wrong?”

I thought for a moment then shook my head.

“So nothing out of the ordinary?”

He seemed so confident, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and shuffled in my seat. That was when I felt a cool sensation against my legs. My clothes were different.

I looked down at myself. My legs, sheathed in a pair of sheer white tights, emerged from a deep blue satin dress with a full skirt that fell to just above the knee. The sleeves were short and puffed with the bodice close fitting, and over it all was a frilly white cotton apron. On my feet, a pair of black, patent leather Mary Janes shone in the spotlights.

It was the perfect Alice in Wonderland costume and I recognised it. When I had been about eleven years old, I had been invited to a neighbour’s daughter’s fancy dress birthday party. I remember thinking how lovely her dress was and had complemented her on it. That had earned me my first ever date and my first ever kiss, but in fact I hadn’t been so interested in how good she looked as how much I would love to be wearing that dress. It had stuck with me all these years, and now here I was living out one of my earliest fantasies.

Yes, you’ve probably guessed it by now, I'm one of those. Cross-dresser, transvestite, gender dysphoric, freak, weirdo, pervert, whatever you want to call it. It's not something I'm proud of, but then neither is it something I can help; I just have a thing about dressing up in women’s clothing.

The contents of the bottom drawer of my dresser, that Dave so nearly saw that first day, were the collection of female clothes I had picked up from charity shops and the like over the previous few years. I hadn’t dared indulge my passion these past months for fear of being visited by Dave and his boot, for fear of my guilty secret getting out, and now here I was, sitting in front of all my friends wearing the prettiest, girliest dress I could imagine.