#hypno show

If we forget about the fact that I'd 100% volunteer to be one of the subjects, I think I'd like to start as an inexperienced and unassuming spectator. Someone who came to the show as a result of a dare or a bet, someone who came out of curiosity or skepticism.

I can already see it.

Finding a seat close enough to the stage to see and hear perfectly but not enough to be noticed because it's embarrassing for me to be here. I don't believe in hypnosis.

A soft hum coming out of speakers under every single seat as the show starts.

A few people volunteer and I think to myself that they're probably paid actors. Hypnosis isn't real.

The buzz of the speakers gets a little louder but no one notices, everyone focused on the stage where all the magic is happening.

I watch as the few subjects' heads drop to the side one by one, lashes fluttering as their eyes move under their eyelids and lips slightly parted. All while the hypnotist speaks.

"Look into the farthest corner of your mind," he instructs the subjects, fingers brushing along their foreheads, one by one. "Do you see it? It's a theme park."

The lights in the room dim, only a few colorful ones illuminating the stage. "So many colors, aren't there? Why don't you look at them for me?"

I blink, finding myself confused. Was he talking about the imaginary theme park or the lights around the auditorium? The volunteers on stage were told to keep their eyes closed no matter what so it has to be the former.

I examine the flickering hues on the stage, momentarily zoning out. Those are some interesting colors. Stage lights I'm familiar with from other performances can usually only do the basics — red, green, blue and maybe yellow. But these are nicer. Baby blue, pastel pink and purple. Much easier on the eyes.

I shift in my seat, attempting to get a little more comfortable.

"Take a deep breath in," the hypnotist instructs and the volunteers comply... and so do I. "Do you smell that? Isn't it nice?"

A soft scent mixture wafts through the room, pleasant and familiar. There are a lot of different smells — mainly savoury meals or snacks like popcorn or hot dogs — all theme-park-typical smells. Among those scents is another, one that stands out to me the most. It's sweet, warm, sugary...

...ah. Cotton candy.

It smells like home, in a way, like I'm a ten-year-old girl again, pulling my dad along to take me on another ride even though I just ate.

I take another deep breath in on instinct, just to keep that scent for a while longer. Saliva starts gathering on my tongue which makes me swallow but it doesn't help, the smell is too strong, too tasty.

I open my mouth just slightly and my tongue slips out, running along my upper and lower lip to wet them. Why am I suddenly—

"The lights are so pretty," the hypnotist breathes out almost dreamily, cutting off my train of thought and I find myself nodding along. They are really pretty, with the way they're moving from spot to spot across the stage, the ceiling, the audience. At one point, a pink flicker runs over me and it sends warmth throughout my entire body.

I feel something wet, something warm, slowly running down from the corner of my mouth. I bring my hand up to wipe away the—

"It feels nice to have your thoughts leak out your mouth."

My breath stutters and my hand freezes mid-air. I blink once, then twice, getting a little too difficult to open my eyelids with each blimks, and I return my gaze to the hypnotist. He's looking at the volunteers, he's talking to the volunteers but...

Why does it feel like he's talking to me?

"Drooling out your intelligence feels so good."

My hand drops back onto the armrest as a drop of saliva falls on my sweater. Then another. And another.

"It feels so much better than having to think."

It... kind of does. I think. I don't think. I don't know. What?

"It's getting all over your clothes. You're almost like a dumb puppy. Drooling everywhere for no reason at all."

No reason? But... the cotton candy—

SNAP. A simple, quiet snap of the fingers.

My eyes fly open — when did I even close them? — and I look around me.

Most of the other spectators in the audience mirror my expression — confused and a little dazed.

I glance down at my chest and run the palm of my hand over the fabric of my sweater. *Dry.* That's—

I bring my hands up to my head, gently rubbing my temples to cut through the forming headache.

"...and that is why hypnosis is real."

My eyes shoot to the stage except there are no people there anymore, only the hypnotist on a chair in the center of the stage, smiling down at the audience. He raises from the seat and clasps his hands together.