Ok, so this is really short, but I've tried to put some thought into this. Basically this is kind of a look at the real world from a genie's perspective.
***
Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small.
Tingles.
That hasn’t happened in while?!
WOOOSH
Ahh yes, a world full of ants with one glorious master before me.
“How may I serve thee?”
The woman screams.
The master must have been stabbed, PLEASE don’t let her die, I can’t go back, I want to stay here. Hey, where am I?
OK, let’s see. There is a starry sky above me, and stone walls around me on three sides. How strange each stone is a perfect rectangle, this must be a palace of sorts. I seem to be at the end some long hallway or alley, the walls of which are lined with black sacks, most of which are ripped with could only appear to be garbage spilling forth. What third-world country is this? My last master, Kind soul and all would never have wanted to see the world in this state, in fact, his wishes were in the hopes of making the world better.
The woman falls over with glazed eyes mumbling.
Ok well this woman is clearly speaking a language other than Aramaic or Hebrew, and it doesn’t appear to be Greek either. Great, they always hate when I invade their minds to learn their tongues. It’s the one power I have that doesn’t require a direct wish.
WOOOSH
I must be way farther in the future than I thought, there are so many words in this language that have no parallels in any of the old languages. Let’s try this again.
“How may I serve thee?”
“Why me?”
Ok well at least I got the language right, but she seems to be looking at me as if this is all a dream. Hmm, from her garb and look I’d say she is probably a palace dancer. Tight pink shirt, small black loin covering, probably a slave, this could be her lucky day.
“I am what you call a genie.” What an odd name for me “I am a guardian, and will follow your commands. I can also grant you one extraordinary wish per moon. What can I do for you?”
“Help me.”
“The direction must be specified for I fear I am no familiar with what exactly you want me to do?”
What is wrong with this slave? Her hair is unkempt, and her clothing is dirty, maybe she has been kicked out of the palace. How did a mere slave come in possession of my bottle? I hate that thing, it is my life and my prison. A simple clay bottle built to perfection with not a mark upon it, at least it has been taken care of over the years.
Running footsteps.
Uh-oh, people are coming, time to hide.
The running gets close, there is a lot of commotion.
“Dispatch, this is Baker Twelve, we have 261 victim, get an ambulance down here immediately.”
“I hate rape cases, pick her up.”
The bottle falls out of her hands and cracks.
Dark. Cold. Small. Dark. Cold. Small.
3 comments:
I appreciated how you dealt with you the language issue. It is a feature that the old stories often glossed over. Likewise, it makes sense for the Genie to assume that he/she is in the same era as when last summoned. I imagine that the effect would be akin to being transported to the future.
I liked that the genie was stereotypically scripted; I didn't get the vibe that this genie would distort wishes just to be difficult, or because "the safest move of all was not to play".
I like the way you characterized the genie in a very short amount of space; I know he's sharp, curious, grounded, and probably helpful.
Interesting how very unmagically the "magic" unfolds. This could easily be the beginning to a great story. Well done.
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