The lamp looked to be something straight out of the stories. Covered in sand, sitting by itself in the middle of nowhere, gilded gold and gems adorning the outside. The young boy stared at it for some time, unbelieving what he was seeing. He loosened the wrapping around his face for a moment, trying to get a better look at it. Unable to contain his curiosity, he lifted the lamp for a closer look.
He first tried to lift the top off. It would not budge; unlike a normal lamp, the top seemed sealed. He got more and more excited; why would anyone prevent the top from opening, unless it’s not a normal lamp?
It took him two tries to get his courage up to rub the lamp with his sleeve, cleaning it off. The dust that arose from him made him cough, like a sudden sandstorm had come from the lamp itself. He dropped the lamp, shutting his eyes against the sand that erupted.
When he finally was able to open his eyes again, a man appeared before him. The dark-skinned, well-dressed man was missing everything below the waist, having it replaced by a small whirlwind of dust and sand. The cone cause sand to kick up at its base, but little else now.
“What is your wish, young one?” The man spoke in even tones, as if repeating something he’s said innumerable times.
“What do you mean?” the boy asked. He did not need to force the nervousness in his voice, although he did feign the ignorance.
“You may have any three wishes granted that your heart may desire,” the Djinn said with immeasurable patience. “You may never have more than three wishes, no matter what you say or do, and you may not give a wish to another. You may have anything that is within my power to give you; however, you may not wish to influence the mind or heart of another of your kind.”
The boy was smart, and thoughtful, and caring. He had heard many tales of the Djinn in all forms, from stories told in his town to things he read in books from foreign lands. Even the times he played with his friends, new stories of the Djinn would appear. None would end well for the one making the wish, and sometimes even worse for those around him.
“My first wish,” the boy said after much thought, “is for you to answer a question from me truthfully.”
“As you wish,” the Djinn said. His expression and tone changed little, as yet only showing patience.
“Is what they say true, that many have asked you of wishes, and it ends poorly every time?” The boy rushed his words, unable to disguise his hope that stories were just fables of caution.
“It is true, I am afraid.” The Djinn frowned, dejected at his own answer but pleased to deal with such an honest patron.
The boy stood with his bowed, obviously upset by the answer and wishing to take his time to decide just what his few remaining wishes should be.
“My second wish,” the boy said, raising his head to look at the Djinn in the eye once more, “is for you to answer another question from me truthfully.”
The Djinn looked at him, unable to hide the dubious expression. “As you wish,” he responded after a moment.
“Why? Why do people who have their wishes granted always regret it being so?”
The Djinn smiled. This was indeed a smart boy. “Because no person truly knows their desires; they only perceive problems, and wish for such things to fixed without effort. No one’s problems can ever be simply fixed however; no person’s life is so simple.”
The boy thought about this. It was hard to understand, but he believed the Djinn’s word, and strived to do so. “So, then the problem is not the one who grants the wishes, or the nature of the wishes, but the desire to have wishes granted.”
“It is so.” The Djinn crossed his arms, wondering what the boy could possibly have for his last wish.
The boy nodded, a serious look on his face. “Then for sake for all who follow, there is only one wish that my heart will allow me to make.
“I wish that none that find this lamp, from this time on until time ends, will ever have a wish granted.”
The sandstorm below the Djinn died suddenly. He fell to the ground, clutching at his chest, gasping in pain, struggling to draw breath. He looked at the boy, anger in his eyes. The boy stared at the writhing Djinn, coldly.
“Do not blame me,” he told the dying form beneath him. “You could have told any of those before me what you told me. Perhaps they would have been wise enough to turn you down, perhaps not; but this is the only end for those of you who lay curses among us willingly.”
“Don’t believe yourself righteous, child,” the djinn said, with its final breaths. “Don’t believe yourself a savior. I am not the only Djinn; your kind will forever seek us, for they are forever corrupted, and must always see their folly.”
The Djinn finally let go its corporeal form, becoming so much sand and joining the desert around them in which the boy had found it. “Then I shall find your kin,” the boy swore to desert, “and I will wish them all to the Desert, so that ‘my kind’ can instead find their wishes in hard work and purposeful effort.”
He picked up the lantern, dusting it off. No further dust spewed from the lantern, no sandstorm erupted from within. He took its loop, running it through his belt so it hung from his waist, a reminder and trophy of his new quest of vengeance. He wrapped his head in cloth once more, and took the first steps in his new life and purpose.
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