![]() ![]() Eyeless, expressionless, they stood on display to anyone who passed by on the sidewalk, silent sentinels for our little town. The figures were often shrouded in patchwork garb to reflect the season or holiday, from bathing suits and sunglasses on the 4 th of July to jeans and sweaters for fall. Two mannequins stood in the storefront windows against a backdrop of thick black curtains. While the other townsfolk called it by its name-THE MAGIC SHOW-after the chipped and peeling sign which hung above the entrance, I employed another name for my own private amusement, Mannequin House, after its bizarre form of decoration. ![]() Anyone who might’ve offered conjecture to its origins is gone now.Īll I can offer in explanation is that it’s been here for as long as I have, and I was born in this little hamlet. The building was a converted brick rowhome sandwiched between two residences and had always been there, I think, but no one could say for sure. The double doors, famously ornate from a lavish bygone era, stood half-open in offering. Swollen and stained timbers that once barred the entrance were found scattered about its front stoop among a pile of last year’s dead leaves. We’ve All Gone To The Magic Show By Todd KeislingĮarlier this summer, word spread around our town that the Magic Show’s doors were open.
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