"Loving Djinni"
Part 1
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll
- David -
With an ugly and very final grinding sound, I heard the last stone being fit into the door that would seal the tomb forever. Or at least for such a long time that it wouldn't matter for me anymore.
Fuck!
Sitting up in the darkness, I tried to get back to my senses. That hit must
have been pretty hard to have knocked me out for such a long time. Couldn't
even remember what exactly had happened before they left me here. Why hadn't
they just shot me in the first place? But probably, that was against their
'honour'.
Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!
This is the year 2002, and people were not supposed to be buried alive in
egyptian graves any longer!
But then again, people were not supposed to loot them anymore, either.
How could I ever have been so stupid to enter a deal with
some arabian thugs that had found an unknown tomb somewhere in the egyptian
desert? It had looked such a good deal.
Having been dated back to the first century after Christ, it would probably
not hold any real riches, but that was not what I was after, anyway.
My business was art, of any kind, of any age. Preferably
old, unknown and cheap in acquisition, and I would be able to deliver the
papers that made them ready for resale at tremendous prices.
I barely ever did this grave-robbing thing.
And now it got me stuck in this dark, dry tomb in the middle of nowhere, and I could almost see the guys outside in their caftans shovelling the sand back onto the entrance they just had closed again. They took out the precious stuff, leaving me inside instead.
How ironic.
FUCK!
Blinking helplessly into the darkness, I decided I had to
do something. I couldn't just wait here until I died of dehydration or asphyxiation.
But first, I would have to get some light. I had a small torch-light somewhere
on me when I entered this place...
Yep, I still had it.
Switching on the tiny device, I took a small tour around my new home, silently hoping that I would be able to find anything useful. But the guys I had come here with had done a neat job. In the entrance-room, where I had been clubbed down, only the wooden carcass of a statue remained, its precious lacquer and gold inlets reduced to a small heap of dust at its feet by some unique kind of mold.
Great.
Probably I would choke on some kind of highly toxic spores before I was able
to see if the air would last long enough to die of thirst. How could I be
so idiotic to start a discussion about insurances and security-costs with
them in the middle of a tomb?
But Arabians were supposed to be very fond of haggling, weren't they? These
ones, apparently, were not. And pretty much without any sense of humor.
Slowly walking through the empty rooms, I noted that they
truly had done a pretty much comprehensive clean-out of the place. Even the
murals, where they could be still distinguished from the pale walls, had been
professionally taken off and packed away to be shipped somewhere else.
Fuck.
It had been a roman tomb in egyptian style, and a fucking rare thing. The pieces would have brought a fortune on the black market, legalised with my papers they would have been priceless.
But I had more pressing problems at my hands, didn't I? Like surviving the next three days.
Then, in one of the last rooms, my torch began to flicker.
Great, just great. So I wouldn't even see anything when I died.
In the dying light of my lamp, I saw a dark heap in one of the corners, probably
the remnants of one of the chests that had not survived the centuries. Carelessly
turning over the moldy crumbs, I mused what on earth I thought I could find
in this garbage that would be of any use for me. But then, suddenly, my foot
turned over some dark, crumbling sheets of dirt, and revealed a slight metal
gleam.
Intrigued, I pushed the thing out of the dust and blinked in astonishment
as I saw an old oil-lamp, brazen, probably middle-eastern, two-thousand BC,
judging by it's ornaments.
Considering the fading light of my own torch, that truly
was something useful. Taking up the lamp, I was surprised by its weight, as
if it might contain some oil even after all this time. Being a regular smoker,
I took out my lighter, but that bloody thing of a wick didn't even pretend
to catch fire.
Probably too crusted, too dirty, I thought.
I put down my pathetically flickering torch and tried to get rid of some of
the ancient grime that encrusted the lamp's nozzle, trying to get the wick
free, using my jacket's sleeve to get rid of the worst.
At first, when I heart that hissing sound, I thought that
sand was falling into the tomb, it's structure weakened by the damages my
collaborators had done to its walls.
But then with the last light of my own lamp, I saw a cloud of fine mist emerging
from the lamp, building up to a dense cloud, hovering in the air in front
of me.
Great.
Hallucinogenic spores.
So I was not going to die, I was going mad as well.
----
- Orlando -
Being stuck in a lamp is the most annoying and boring thing imaginable. Being stuck in a lamp because some other family member has a bad sense of humor and doesn't pick his enemies carefully is even more annoying. Being forced to grant wishes is plain degrading.
But being stuck in a lamp for heaven knows how long with NOTHING whatsoever happening is beyond horrible. If a djinni were able to die of boredom I would have died ages ago. If a djinni were able to die at all I would have killed myself ages ago.
As that was no route of escape I endured and paced the confines of my ugly little lamp endlessly. Couldn't dear old beard-face Salomon at least have stuck me into a bottle so I could look outside? But no, bottles were reserved for female djinni. Asshole. Chauvinist asshole.
I didn't even have an idea what had happened to the lamp after my last "assignment". If you can call granting wishes to some imbecile mortal an assignment. I hate mortals. I had being stuck. I hate...
And then, suddenly, the lamp was moved and all I felt was an all encompassing love for whoever it might be, that had found my prison. For once I was actually grateful for being set free. Maybe I would grant this one a wish without ruining his life in the process.
It only took a moment and there was that scratching and scrubbing on the lamp, that called me outside.
Rising out of the lamp I stretched happily. What a wonderful feeling to be free at last. Well, sort of free at least. Moving my shoulder I worked out the kinks that always formed from walking hunched around a low ceiling lamp.
And then I realised that everything was not as it should be. It was pitch park. There was a young man holding my lamp but he couldn't possibly see me.
I looked around curiously and noted that we were in some sort of underground room. Dusty, moldy, empty. Probably a grave. So he obviously must be a grave robber. A shudder ran down my spine. I hate doing business with those. They are ungrateful, unimaginative, greedy, filthy, leering... well, you get the idea...
But it wouldn't help to complain, so I'd better get this over with. Maybe he'd at least move the lamp to an interesting place.
"What is your wish, master?" I intoned the time-honoured question and was quite pleased when he dropped the lamp in shock.
----
- David -
I was just imagining a human torso shaping out of the mist
as the batteries of my torchlight finally died.
Gods, I'm going completely nuts! But then it would surely shorten my suffering.
When I heard a snug voice speaking to me in an unintelligible language, I could have screamed. But I managed to suppress that, I merely dropped the lamp. I was completely freaking!
Again, someone spoke.
This was beyond creepy. I could have bet this person was
speaking the most flawless ancient egyptian I have ever heard. It sounded
so ... fucking real.
In a weak attempt to convince my battered senses that nothing of this was
real, I light my zippo with shivering fingers – only to stare into the
most beautiful eyes of a young man I have ever seen. Huge, brown eyes in a
classical face, politely smiling at me with a slightly questioning look.
This time, I screamed, dropping my lighter, running away
in panic.
OK, not really running, for the next wall seemed to be directly behind me,
and I couldn't really focus on where the exit of the room had been, but I
fled as much as one can flee in a pitch-dark tomb.
Again, the voice spoke. This time, I had no chance but to clearly identify the language as latin. And that was a language I understood.
"What is your wish, Master", the voice had asked. And what a nice voice that had been.
I couldn't help but giggle hysterically, slumping down the wall until I sat on the ground, holding my aching head with both hands. This was just too hilarious. Here I was, buried alive in a god-forsaken tomb, hallucinating about a cute male djinni with a sexy voice. Gods, I'm such a hormone-driven burn-out.
"I'm waiting, Master."
Again, I heard that chimera speak with me in perfect latin.
Shaking my head, I came to the conclusion that if I was to die here, mad as a street-rat, I could just as well enjoy the company of my imaginary friend.
"You don't happen to speak English, by any chance?",
I asked, surprised by the hollow sound of my voice in the empty room.
Then, when I already kindled a hope that my hallucination wouldn't answer,
it did.
"Of course I do, Master."
English, this time, and as flawless as his Latin had been. And still pretty sexy.
"What is your wish, Master?"
"Yes, dear illusion, that is the question. What could I wish for in this hopeless situation?"
"I'm no illusion, Master", the sexy voice said, with just the slightest hint of annoyance that made it so bloody fucking believable.
"Sure."
This was just madness.
"So what could I wish for, alone in this place except for you... Actually, are you into men?"
"If you wish so, Master..."
I'm sitting here, and instead of trying to safe my life, I'm fantasising of sex with a hallucination. I hate my life.
And what if this were real? If he truly were a djinni, able
to get me out of here?
If I had been looking for any proof of my despicable mental state, here I
would have had it. I was already accepting the idea of wish-granting spirits
as possible.
But it didn't really make a difference, did it?
I would die here anyway.
But if...
It couldn't do any harm, could it?
"I want to be home, djinni. I want to be at home in New York."
I'm fucking mad.
"Is that your wish, Master?"
"Fucking yes! Is that too difficult for you?"
"Of course not. Your wish be granted, Master."
And then, all of a sudden, brightest light flooded the place, and when I realised that I was sitting on the large couch in the lounge of my Manhattan loft, I just blacked out.
----
- Orlando -
Too difficult... ts, ts... I looked down at my new master with condescending interest. He was lying on this high diwan, obviously unconscious. I had seen people shocked to see a djinni before but never as bad as this. Maybe it had been the bad air in the tomb. At least this way my lamp had taken a quick route out of that godforsaken place.
As my master was in no condition to utter further wishes or show me around his home I looked around myself.
And what a splendid home THAT was. High ceiling, an impossibly large room, filled with all the luxuries a king could wish for and then some I was not familiar with in first sight. And countless pieces of art from several ages. Seemed that grave robbing had turned into a much more profitable business while I had been stuck in that cursed lighting device.
The lamp was sitting on a low table in front of my master and as so often before I felt compelled to kick it. Couldn't of course. No touching of your own lamp. Rats.
How long had I been stuck in that thing anyway? I started to wander around the hall – it could not really be called a room with that size – and looked at the things of the mortal. There were lots of items I identified after some studying as highly advanced technical machines. There is definitely something to be said for being a supernatural being that can grasp the workings of any thing merely by looking at it for a while.
What I liked best of all his stuff was the big cooling box. I took out a bottle of some brown liquid, hoping it would be alcoholic. It turned out to be sparkling and impossibly sweet but I drank it anyway. Nothing like a cool drink after a dusty eternity in a lamp.
Patting some of the accumulated dust out of my pantaloons I continued my survey of the surrounding, finally coming to stand in front of a floor to ceiling window, looking out over an – abyss. Or it seemed to be an abyss at first glance. Looking far, far down I realised his place was in a really, really high building and deep down there was a road bustling with mortals. They must have multiplied like rats.
Across the abyss – road – there was an even higher building and I could discern more people walking about behind the windows of that tower. I let my senses sweep out a little and realised that this was a town, made up of many of these high towers and many more smaller buildings. What was it that he had called it? New York?
As if my thoughts of him had woken him up, I heard a low moan coming from the direction of the diwan where I had left him. Rats, again. I would have enjoyed having a look around for a while longer. But duty called.
I went back to the mortal and watched as he slowly sat up, staring at me with wonder. "You are really real." he concluded, not very intelligently.
"Yes, master." I said, feeling almost amused by his confusion. He did look rather cute for a grave robber. But one should never trust their type.
"What is your second wish, master?"
----
- David -
When I got out of unconsciousness, I first thought this all to have been a very, very bad dream. I shouldn't just pop down everything some friends of mine handed me.
But then, after staring at my dirty shoes and my somewhat
run-down off-white suit, I remembered.
The thugs, the tomb, me being hit with a heavy object. And him.
Before I could gather my senses sufficiently to decide what I was to believe of all this, he showed up, standing in the midst of my lounge as if never anything out of the ordinary had happened. Well, it had probably been just another working-day for him, anyway.
And damn, he was cute. He was wearing that clichéed djinni-outfit; blue pantaloons, large brazen bracers, nothing else. And a body that was definitely worth to be shown in such a revealing outfit. I have had quite my share of beautiful boys in my place, but his one topped them all. Such a slender, casually muscled grace paired with such fine, elegant features I had never seen before.
"You're really real.", I brought out, sounding as moronic a I felt.
"Yes, Master", he replied, a slight smirk showing his amusement about my confusion. "What is your second wish, Master?"
"My second ..."
I was dumbfounded. He was real. Just as real as the throbbing pain on the back of my head and the fact that by all logic, I should still be buried in that grave...
"How did you do that?"
"How did I do what, Master?"
"Get us here?"
"Magic, Master...?"
Sure. Magic.
But then, how else, if not by some spell?
Gods, I would have to call Marcella to tell her that she would have to clean the place regularly again now that I have returned earlier.
"Fuck.", I said to myself.
"Master?"
"I just realised that all my luggage is still in Cairo. And that it'll take some effort to get it back. Should have thought of that."
"Don't you look at me like that, Master. I'm here to grant you three wishes, not to give you advise on how to use them wisely."
I looked at the djinni for a long time, and I couldn't suppress the notion that it wasn't the first time he used this excuse.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
"I'm doing what, Master?"
"Trying to get people to make stupid wishes. And stop calling me Master."
"Is that a wish, Master?", he asked snugly.
"No! For heaven's sake! They never mention in the stories that djinnies can be such snug bastards."
He just stared at me blankly in response, his arms folded in front of his chest.
Exasperated, I threw my arms up and went into the changing-room
that adjoined my bath. I had to get rid of these dusty clothes, had to get
a shower, and had to make a plan on how to deal with this frighteningly difficult
new flatmate of mine.
For I was definitely going to take my time on using my next two wishes wiser
than the first one.
And that meant that I would be stuck with this exceedingly complicated djinni
for quite a while longer. Gods, my life just had taken a turn to become much
more... strange.
---
- Orlando -
Now that was something new. I could think back a long, long time but never before had any master just turned his back on me and left. Arguing, asking stupid question, asking rather intelligent questions, trying to charm me into more wishes.. all that had happened but I had definitely never been 'left behind' like that.
So this was one of the types who would consider his next wish carefully. And then probably would make it without thinking out of the blue. Been there, seen that.
Obviously I was going to be stuck with him for a while. Well, there certainly were worse places to be stuck. In a lamp for example.
So I sat down on his diwan and turned on the TV-thing. It's always kind of weird to pick up the names of things out of nowhere. I conjured a bottle of cool beer for myself – at least that I was still allowed to do, grant myself some small wishes – propped my feet up on his low table next to the lamp and started to flip through channels without any real interest.
Yes, I did not know much about this 'new world' yet, but there would be plenty of time to learn. Eternity, actually. So why hurry now? It would get boring eventually anyway. I was much more curious about my master. As much as I hate to admit it, mortals fascinate me. They are so short-lived and still manage to be so complicated in so little time.
What would he wish for? Certainly not riches, I decided. Those he had lots of. Maybe a woman? He seemed to live here alone.
Then I remembered what he had asked me in that tomb. If he wished for a lover it would be a male one, I concluded. Well, wouldn't be the first to heap that wish on me, having me in mind. And there had been uglier ones than him.
It took him quite a while to return. First I heard low cursing, then water running, then some definitely relieved sounds. He was getting comfortable.
With a sigh I conjured another bottle of beer. A bath would have been so nice. It felt like the dust had seeped into every pore of my body. Actually, why sit here and suffer?
I got up and followed my master. He was in a small tiled room in a cubicle with running water. Nice idea. Maybe mortals were not all dumb after all. He didn't notice me through all the steam rising from the hot water running down over his body. A quite nice body I had to admit. No scars, no fat, and increasingly little dirt. And blonde on top. These blond northern barbarians look so exotic!
Maybe I should just climb in with him and charm his next wish out of him? Sounded like a great idea.
Quickly I let my pantaloons disappear and stepped into the – shower, yes, that's what it was called – with him.
----
- David -
I loved my shower.
It was even better than the huge bathtub or the jacuzzi, which I only used
for more... social occasions. But my shower was a private place, just the
right place to stand underneath the running water, have the heat seep through
every pore, take away all the grime and tension.
I must be going mad. But I was here, wasn't I?
So I had two more wishes, according to this obnoxious, cute
little spirit. I had to ask him for the details of our contract. There surely
would be some loopholes. Every contract had some.
But then – what should I wish for?
Money? I had more than enough of that.
Love? That might be one...
Peace on earth? Gods, how big actually could these wishes get?
I would have to ask him.
Directly after another hour of soaking under the shower.
And then, someone opened the door to the glassen cubicle I had had my shower built in. I jerked around, only to find a slender, exceedingly naked djinni climb into the shower to me, the most innocent smile in his beautiful face.
"What are you doing?", I asked, completely flabbergasted.
"Having a shower? That's what you call it, don't you?"
"Yes, it's..." I couldn't help but stare at this ... boy. His body was perfect, and except for the bracers, very naked. Almost mesmerised, I watched the drops pearl down his slightly bronzed skin, trying very hard to think of the obvious implications of his visit.
"I've been sitting in this lamp for ages, and I just feel dirty. You don't mind, do you?"
His snug voice, as sexy as it was, once again sparked what little anger I could muster under given circumstances.
"Actually, yes, I do mind. What do you think to gain by invading my personal space like this?"
"Your personal space? You mean your ... loft?"
"No, this shower. You can't have been stuck in that lamp to tell me that you have no idea of just how impolite you are."
Once again, he looked at me with genuine irritation and my anger dissipated like mist in the morning. Then, with a shrug, I said:
"How long have you been bottled, actually?"
"Don't know", the djinni answered with a shrug that mirrored mine. "What year do we have?"
"2002"
"2002 of what?"
"Gregorian calendar." He had no idea. "After Christ?"
"Who?"
Gods, this was going to take a long time.
"Forget it. Here, take the sponge, make yourself useful, scrub my back."
"Is that a wish, Master?", he asked mockingly.
"Fuck you!"
But the sparkle in his beautiful brown eyes told me that he wouldn't mind scrubbing my back even if he wasn't obliged to, so I just turned around, trying to enjoy whatever weirdness fate had delivered me.
----
- Orlando -
Well, well, watch that audacious mortal! You give him a little finger and he rips of the whole arm. Not that I had given him anything yet that he hadn't explicitly wished for. So why start now? Maybe because his smooth pale back looked to good an opportunity to pass?
He WAS rather beautiful. Graceful even. He would have made a fine pleasure slave for a roman senator. Or an egyptian princess. Or a free unbound spirit. My, I would have enjoyed this cocky little...
Stop that, I told myself firmly. He is a mortal. He is your master. That makes him your enemy. He just wants a wish for free. Better not start spoiling him now.
Or should I? With some practise and getting to know him I would certainly be able to make him choose really foolish wishes. That would be fun. Hadn't laughed at a mortal in – what had he said? – 2000 years after somebody I didn't even know?
In shock I dropped the sponge. TWO THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS?!!! I actually felt like I was going to faint.
He looked over his shoulder to find out what I was waiting for. He must have noticed my shocked state, for he turned around quickly and put a supportive hand on my arm that I did for once not mind.
"Are you alright?" he asked, genuine worry in his voice.
"Two thousand years?" I heard myself whisper. "I have been in that cursed thing for two thousand years?"
Realisation dawned in his eyes and he helped me sit down in the hot rain of the shower. "Well, uhm... didn't you notice the time passing?" he asked, looking down at me with a mixture of helplessness and adoration of my looks.
"I..." Yes, I had noticed the time passing. It had seemed like an eternity. And that was it. I had assumed that it just SEEMED to me like an eternity. Not that it WAS one!
For a long moment I just sat there, staring at him blankly, trying to come to grips with the fact that the world turned around the sun two thousand times since I had last seen her light. That was just cruel. Cuttingly cruel.
Then I realised that he was still staring at me too, at my naked body and suddenly I felt very exposed in my weakness. So I fled to the only place where he could not follow: into my lamp.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll
go to PART 2