The Hat by Ian Brownlie
‘It’s custom-made,’ the magician said.
****‘Wow,’ I replied.
****The black top hat was huge, sitting like a waterless hot-tub in the centre of his sparse back room. Annoyingly, it was quite impressive.
****‘They had a real job getting it through the door,’ he explained.
****‘Who did?’
****Things had been frosty between us since I complained about the noise shortly after he moved in next-door. Loud, theatrical bangs and crashes. Eerie whistling noises. Howling. I should have spoken to the magician about it in person before making an official complaint, of course.
****‘Why don’t you take a closer look at it?’ the magician asked, ignoring my question completely.
****I was on my best behaviour, so I acquiesced. He was unlikely to invite me round a second time.
****‘What comes out of a hat that size?’ I asked, my words echoing down.
****‘Out?’
****‘A giant rabbit maybe?’
****He scoffed at my attempted joke, sidling up next to me.
****‘Seriously though, what does come out of it? Maybe…a tiger?’
****‘Nothing,’ the magician replied.
****He tapped his wand on the side of the hat, then hoisted me over the rim into a never-ending darkness of black felt.
Ian Brownlie is a writer and poet from Marlow, Bucks (UK). He has been published in SHINE, Audi Locus, Viridine and Rough Diamond, and was recently nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He has writing for children in The Dirigible Balloon, Tyger Tyger, The Toy, Nimblewitlit and Little Thoughts Press. (He/him)
Image by Studio_Iris at Pixabay
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