Isadore the crazed Magician

  As a young child, Isadore's abnormalities were quickly noted by his guardians. He was always overly enthusiastic to show off his magicianry, and would pretend to be a grand wizard, performing magic shows for his fellow peers and mentors. His parents were both at a loss as to where he inherited his 'tricks', for his mother was mortal, and his father an anthropomorphic. Though little to their knowledge was the gene hidden and programmed like eye color. At age six, Isa's mother had enough of Isadore's odd behavior, and brought the child to be examined by a prophet. He was recommended therapy believed to beat the illness from his mind, but she didn't have the heart for it. Instead, she had him locked into a crate under the theory that isolation would wake him from his rift in reality. Yet with every visit, Isadore only withdrew further and further into his mind and less from the real world. His illusions became his reality. Suddenly he could do whatever, go wherever, be wherever. They thought locking him in a box hardly large enough for him to fit inside would limit him within those walls, but they could not be more wrong. He could allude himself to be anywhere he desired. Reality no longer mattered. When his mother checked him for the last time, a month after her last visit, the lip was bubbling with green ooze and spewing black mist from its floor. When she opened the box, she found a child so lost within his own mind, it was no longer her own. Possessed, bewitched, psychotic, sinned, all engrossed the woman's mind. This thing needed to be purged from this earth. Yet, as she grew closer, she would hallucinate, swinging at things that didn't exist. Every time she reached for Isadore, she would find herself grasping at air, turned around entirely. The closer she got, the stronger the hallucinations became, like entering a room of psychedelics. Her grasp on the actuality returned with the further she ran from him, for his abilities are limited with distance. The child crawled from the box, dripping with his newfound enlightenment, grinning uncontrollably; like a young snake, he was unable to control how much of these 'toxins' he released, every bite containing enough to kill a man. He was only seven at the time, but in a world hungry for entertainment, making a living from street performing wasn't to be a problem.
  Why bother with the boorishness of reality when you can live in an alternate universe that you control? Because it's morally 'wrong', and not 'real'? To Isadore, it is just as real as the air you may breathe or water you drink. If you can see, taste, touch, smell, and hear the illusions, what's to make them any lesser than the 'real world'?