A Genie with no wishes

A GENIE WITH NO WISHES
Hakim Mahomet had run into the forest, a mix of terror, purpose, adrenalin and indignation drove him steadfastly on. Behind him the night was purged with flashing light and explosion. His little village was under fire from machine gun and mortar shell.

"Run fast and deep into the forest, and then hide Hakim, if we can, your brothers and I will join you later." His Father Tariq had ordered youngest son in a hoarse whisper, the giant of a man then gripped his boy firmly by the shoulders and looked him earnestly in the eye, and for a moment, just a tiny moment there appeared to be tears in the great mans eyes, almost stuttering," If we… if we do not come for you then you must wait, you must wait for two days, then and only then can you return." The sadness in his eyes gave a look, that even to a 13yr old boy, said that this was the last time he would see his father alive.

"I can stay and I can fight father," he protested.
The man smiled, but no mirth danced in his eyes tonight.

"You can fight little one, but your day to fight must wait, first you
must live, and you must stay alive, then you must find your mother and sisters and get away from this dreadful place. Promise me Hakim, promise you will do this."
Hakim
was a mischievous little boy who had disobeyed his parents on numerous
occasions, but the look of deep sadness in his fathers eyes told him
this was not the time for that.

"I will Father, I promise with all my heart." With that Tariq kneeled hugged his son
kissed him on the forehead turned him towards the Forest.

"Now run little one, run and hide. God speed and God protect you."

Tariq Mahomet was the father of five sons and three daughters, Grandfather of
eight, husband of Alana; tomorrow he knew that Hakim would be the new
head of this family.

Hakim hidden the undergrowth, listened intently as the gunfire drew nearer his village. Through the gaps in the trees flashing light and explosion careered from one
direction then from other. Then the sound of men, angry voices, sneering voices, scared
pained, cruel voices shouting for what appeared to be an eternity of a never-ending night.

Deeper into the forest he moved stealthily and fluidly, but not so distant that he could not hear the changes in sound. Once or twice he heard movement of men’s rapid footfalls, they running in the forest, but running away from the battle. These were men of no honour running away, Hakim felt like screaming, they were cowards but instead he sank down into the bushes and waited. The noise continued but Hakim still haunted by his father’s description of their home as "This dreadful place,” began to drowse, ponder and the night’s terrible sounds faded for a moment.

Quite why these men were trying to destroy the village was
beyond Hakim, but since the old President had died three months ago and
his wayward son had taken over, Tariq had shared his sadness and
unhappiness with anyone who had care to listen.

"This Scavenging dog is no son of our beloved ruler, he is not fit to
govern I will not accept him,” he roared, yet despite scolding from his wife, these words and worse echoed around the village for friend and foe to hear.

Words of dissent travel fast in this part of the world, and soon Tariq
was invited to come and explain his grievance in the capital. To discuss with
officials, who would try to allay any misunderstandings.

"Hah! My first and last visit to the Capital no doubt," growled Tariq
"Let them come to me," which sadly they did in great numbers and with
purpose. And now there was this.

Those two promised days passed and little Hakim emerged from the undergrowth tired and hungry, he had lain in fear of his life for two days with no sleep or food. No noise had come from the edge of the forest for over a day, so now his urge to return was overwhelming. He would return by the seashore staying close to the forest ,edging slowly ,always alert to what was ahead and behind.
Smoke coloured the sky in the distance, a great battle had taken place and Hakim’s village had evidently come off far the worst.

This was not going to be good, yet his eagerness to find and rejoin his family took over and he sped across the sand crying, gasping for air as oily smog filled his little lungs, his desire to cry out almost irresistible, sprinting hard without care. His footing gave way suddenly and he stumbled cursing as he plunged into the once white sand in a heap.

This lucky moment and enforced breather was welcome; not only for rest but for regaining sense. The wind punched out of him brought him back to reality, his father had trained him to hunt to be patient and disciplined, yet he was behaving like a dumb panicking animal, like prey.

As he regained his composure, Hakim spotted the reason behind his fall, a mere bottle the size of his hand lay in the sand. One on closer examination, the like of which he had never seen before.

Hakim rolled over to where it lay
and examined it further, hour glass in shape and coloured in ways new to Hakim. As he tried to see within, to inspect its contents, a swirling mist moved almost in anticipation of this, almost alive teasing the young boy, testing his curiosity.
Again and again, his eyes saw something inside move only to be obscured by the mist again.

Strangely captivating the young boy momentarily forgot his mission, all bottles
had tops, cork or plastic caps. Yet this bottle was crafted to have none,
rounded at both ends… no way in no way out almost like a miniature
prison.

Then to Hakim’s surprise the bottle began to glow and tingle in his hand, his immediate reaction was to be suspicious, yet hypnotized Hakim could only gaze into the murky glass, as the magical mist paralyzed him. Yet something deep within, charged Hakim and with raised hand he flung the receptacle hard and high towards the forest.

Explosive shards of glass flew as green and orange flashes of light
cascaded from the blast, reeling back Hakim looked towards the village
anxiously for enemies, if they were still there this would bring them
running, why had he been so reckless, foolish even?

When the plumes of smoke had lifted, no one had come or indeed was coming from the village, this bottle was a booby trap planted to try snare others who escaped on the night, instinct had saved Hakim’s life it would have gone off on in
his hand ,if he'd held it a second longer he concluded yet...

"Master what is your bidding?" came the voice.

Hakim turned and fell simultaneously the voice was like a bullet
ricocheting past his ear from nowhere throwing him to the ground. When Hakim finally gained control once again, there standing before him the owner of the voice, was just a
boy perhaps 13 years old dressed like a prince from a thousand years
ago, olive skinned, handsome and immaculately groomed, the boy raised
his head ever so slightly.

"My pardon if I offend Master, but to summon me in future one only has
to rub the glass and I will appear."

Hakim had grown up with tales of beasts, potions, evil djins and before
him now if he was not mistaken a Genie, a Genie of the bottle? It
couldn't be surely?

He inhaled a deep breath and shakily tried to convey authority.

"Who are you and what do you want?" He scowled.

"I am your servant master; I am here only to do your bidding not
mine."

Hakim lay gaping incredulously, motionless evaluating this unexpected turn of events, his
father had always told him be prepared to accept the unexpected and if
possible use it to his advantage had his Father envisaged this
though?

"Do something."

"Something …Master?"

"Yes, something you can do that I can’t, something that proves what you are.”

"That list is endless Master; you will have to state what you
require."

Hakim thought for a moment and finally decided on a small test to test this trickster.

"Your bottle, your home whatever it is you call it is now destroyed,
where will you go when I finish with you?"

"Ah! That I can show you now," the boy replied smiling.

The boy then placed one palm of his hand on top of the other, and
then raised it slowly to reveal a new mysteriously coloured bottle,
identical to the previous one.

"There you have it, my new home, and please Master do take care of this
one." The boy smirked ever so slightly.

Hakim was too amazed by the magic initially to be hurt by his slave's
insult about his carelessness; he wanted to see something else.

"Return to your bottle then Genie… if that is what I call you?"

"My name is Ashok Master, but you can call me what you wish, please
call on me whenever you desire something." The boy then bowed courteously.

A moment passed and the Genie had gone and in Hakims hands laid the now
new and precious mystical bottle, however wonderful this bottle was it
would have to wait.

Sprinting now without fear of the enemy Hakim ran
towards the village, a feeling of dread told him something worse than
strangers with guns lay ahead.
He was right.

When Ashok was called for again later that day, it was for the
second time in ten thousand years, his first visit earlier in the day
had been tantalizingly short. His first taste of stale desert air had been like
the sweet taste of honeyed wine he'd tasted on the day he'd been made
prisoner of the bottle, his new and first Master was a boy like himself
scowling with disbelief at his new servant.

Ashok had been tempted to
blow this little Urchin away like an ant, but greater beings than he
were waiting just for him to do just that and punish him again, here he
had a master a boy like him and like him, boys dream, boys are
impatient, boys are greedy and boys can do the most of evil of things
and so maybe just maybe his chance would come.

"Master you called?"

He stood in what were the remnants of an old stone house destroyed by
some great force, above no roof just the stars for a ceiling each one
an eye gazing down policing Ashok making sure nothing was amiss and
that he was behaving.

Hakim sat in the corner of his former home
looking at this creature from another dimension, tears rolled down his
eyes, but crying was all he'd done for the last three hours and his
father used to say personal feelings got in the way of hard thinking,
the time for clear thinking was now, sorrow would have to come later.

"Ashok," he called softly.

when Ashok turned to him he continued," Come with me into my village, I
want you to see why I will do what I am about to do."

Together they walked, for Ashok darkness was a new joy, this was like
being born again, tasting life again, night time was the time he
remembered fondly, this was the time of day when he came alive so long, long ago.

The village or what was once a village lay leveled to ground, now it was just
smoking rubble and timber, Ashok wondered of what man had become to
create havoc like this. Hakim slowed and stopped and pointed to what was the
square of his village, now it was just something grotesque.

The little boy's voice quivered with anger and yet maturity as he named and described the owner's of the
bodies of each of his family that lay naked on the ground bound and gagged, each
one's age, each one's nickname and personality, each one's hopes and
aspiration's.
Not one member had survived each parent, brother, sister,
Aunt, Uncle Nephew and niece... Not…one each lay dead riddled with bullets.

He
hoped and believed they were now together in a better place, but if that was a
consolation, it wasn’t something that tempered his anger. He turned to Ashok holding a piece of paper up for him to
see.

"This was around my Fathers neck Genie, it says, Little one we didn't
get you this time, but be assured we will and when we do we'll send you
to your family, we can and will do this quickly if you give yourself up, Don't
be a crying Jackal like your father Hakim, do something your family has
never done before, do something with honour."

Ashok could see the rage brewing in his little Master's eyes, the last
sentence had done what it intended "patience, patience Ashok" he
thought to himself, the opportunity was there, but just like the forbidden fruit
in that famous garden he could not take, he had to be given.

"Genie boys of my age dream of you and the wishes you can bring true.
If I could ask for riches, sailboats and white stallions, nothing before
today would have taken preference, but today there lays my life on the ground
in this "dreadful place," everything I love and cherish lies wretched
and undignified at my feet. I hope with all my heart that their deaths were quick and painless, but my head
tells me no. I am the last of my family, I pray thanks that my
Grandparents are not alive to see this or to suffer the same, I am the
last of Mahomet family, and I must have my revenge and cleanse the hurt that has unjustly been inflicted upon my family ad i. Fate has brought you to my
side so together we will cause my enemies great pain."

Ashok breathed deeply, excitedly "almost there, a pity though little man, for you have the voice of someone who could be great… yet one where the greatness is surpassed, by the malevolence of your tortured mind, " he now just had to wait ,this was taking no
effort at all.

"Revenge master is a thing that takes many forms; you will have to be
clear, precise about what you require, before I can do what I have to
do."

Hakim was indeed ruthless; the afternoon of grief was also one of hate. Just
like his Tyrant Father, Hakim would spare no one who had any part in
this slaughter, this land would run red in rivers of blood, no one
would receive mercy, they would all receive the slowest and most
painful of deaths. Families would be wiped off the Earth as if they
never existed, any dissent would be met with the same retribution. Hakim
also showed what a greedy little boy he had become and spelled out the
riches and splendor that Ashok would be required to provide. The army,
the palaces, the wives and gardens of indescribable beauty, the list
was endless.

Ashok restrained himself and in his last role as a dignified
servant.

"Master, is this is what you require me to do, this is your command?"

"Yes I command it Genie, I demand it, I wish it now, I wish the ruler of this
land and all his subjects, the most painful and slowest of
deaths. And it must be done now! " Hakim impatiently and recklessly delivered this last order.

"Then I must do what I must do." Replied Ashok stoically.

Ashok sat down by the beach now free from his prison of ten thousand years.
His freedom had brought him back his human mortality, it had lost him
the attire of a prince, in place were the rags of a little boy who had
just taken his place inside the bottle, this little boy had fallen for
the same trap he had all that time ago, this little boy behind his
grief was even more greedy and evil than Ashok had been. Ashok stared
into the bottle, in the mist he knew a little figure inside was
distraught scampering for the light calling out for help unheard, after
a while maybe a hundred years he'd realise this was no good and all
would be clear.

"Try to be patient my friend, you may have immortality and fine clothes, but that
is all you have. I hope your stay is not as long as mine and that someone will
release you from your living hell, the previous occupant to me offered
me no such hope, this is an evil toy made by minds more malicious than
either of us. I am truly sorry for what has happened, but you must see I really had no choice. My heart and sympathy is with you."

With that Ashok hurled the bottle as far as he could into the sea, yet other thoughts were aching like hunger pangs. He
was a little worried that what he had done was against one of the many
careful rules his servant had spelled out to him before sending him to
this prison.

"Under no circumstances must you coerce or manipulate, it must always
be of the victim's own volition what they do or decide," his jailer told
him.

Ten thousand years surely they would not punish him for coaxing a
little boy like himself into throwing a bottle against a tree, he'd
merely hurried things along he'd paid his dues and more. He gazed up towards the sky and screamed.

“I have paid my dues have i not, damn you!! Have you not punished me enough? You know I did nothing but hurry fate along; the boy was destined to be the next!! Take me now if that is not so, do it like the unforgiving cowards you are; bludgeon me with lightning from behind a scoundrel’s black hearted cloud… IF SOOOO YOU DARRRREEE.”

His voice echoed towards unseen accusers punching the sky, he almost expecting to be swept up and crushed like an ant for this slant, but no, nothing more than the seagulls cackled back. Perhaps this outburst tickled them all the more, a former prince, whining his resentment at them, for all things he had lost.

But, no he was
going to be fine, he was free to live another 60 years to savour things
he'd missed out on, one being the new Dawn he was enjoying now, he
smiled and breathed in the now fresh sea air.

Behind him three men approached uniformed and armed, they'd watched
from the village for a few minutes curious at the boy’s behaviour.

He
turned and met their smiles, puzzled he still returned one of his own,
but their smiles were cruel.

"Little one we're so glad you returned, we can help you join your family
now."