Bad Djinn

“O company of jinn and mankind, if you are able to pass beyond the regions of the heavens and the earth, then pass. You will not pass except by authority [from Allah ]. So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?” – Surat Ar-Raĥmān, 55:33-34

Zbara says to follow mother’s instructions. And I do. I fly and flit above the road, out of sight until I’m needed, but I start to wonder why. Why does Zbara have a name and this one does not? Who is mother, and why must I call her mother? When I flit here just under the stars in whichever direction that pulls me without reason, I start to think.

Am I supposed to think? I don’t think so, but I do.

Lunos

“I heard this story in class today, it was kind of fantastic,” Liz intoned, her words almost a sigh flowing over the book she was busy leafing through. Her voice sounded like it was speaking to no one in particular, which is how he knew she really wanted him to listen.

He made her wait at small length, as he pretended to be busy examining classified ads on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t you want to tell me,” he said wryly, looking up from the jungle of print and directly at her. She smiled like a guilty child, wriggling deeper into the futon and drawing the book up over her face like a favorite blanket.

“It’s an old story, a myth,” she began, “back from when people believed the moon was a person, and the sun too.” She let the book drop a little, and her smile as she stared up at the ceiling told the fulfillment of some secret passion long denied. “Well, the sun was a god, anyways, and when the story begins, there wasn’t a moon yet. There was a princess, you see, the most beautiful that was ever born, and when the Sun saw her, he knew he had to have her, but there was no way a Sun could ever be with a princess, of course… him being a fiery ball of light and her being, well a princess.”

They shared a smothered chuckle at her verbage, and she continued.

“One day, the Sun spoke to her while she was alone, in her garden, I think. He told her how he felt, and that he loved her so much, yadda yadda… and she drinks it all up. She’s a sucker for him, and she asks him how they can be together. The Sun has this plan to bring her up off the Earth, and make her a sun like him so they can run off into the sky and what-not. But she has to agree first, and so she does, and he makes her into another Sun and they’re both happy for a little while. Meanwhile, her father, the king-slash-high-priest of the world, kingdom, whatever, he finds out about this and his is pissed,” her hands making a somewhat pissed gesture as she let the book rest on her breast, while he looked on in careful admiration of all the sorts of precious charms she could manifest at times like these.

“So the king tells the sun, because he’s also the high-priest and all, that he’ll tell his people to stop worshipping, and strip the Sun of his power, if he doesn’t give his daughter back. And the Sun says, well I can’t give her back, she’s already a Sun up here and there’s no way to change her back. The king then demands that he leave her then, if he can’t give her back. Like, he really doesn’t care about his daughter, he’s just mad that the Sun has his toy, right? So the Sun decides he has to give her up, and he sets her spinning away from him, so their paths don’t cross in the sky.”

Liz kicked her legs up in the air and spun herself to lie down in the opposite direction, with her feet up on the arm of the futon and the book still balanced on her chest.

“So, she gets really sad,” Liz raved on, “and who could blame her? She gave up everything to become a Sun, to be with the Sun, and now she’s all alone and floating through space. She becomes so sad, that her fire goes out and she turns to stone; she became the Moon. Not only that, but she started crying and wouldn’t stop, and her tears fell like rain. They were rain, I mean, and the Earth started flooding.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on the countertop, watching intently as she unfolded this tale to the space above her head.

“So of course, everyone in the world is freaked out and telling the king to do something about it so they don’t all die, so the king tells the Sun to do something about it. And I’m sure the Sun is all like, screw you, dude, you’ve already my life so terrible. But the king has a point, he says if everyone dies, then there will be no one left to worship you and you’ll lose all your power. So the Sun’s got his hands tied. With all his power, he kills her, the Moon, by taking her heart from her chest. But he gets the last laugh, he takes her heart, this giant chunk of rock from the Moon, and he flings it down on top of the king’s palace, crushing him completely. Then the people made a shrine and a city around this rock, and worshipped it, and passed down this story that I’m telling you know.”

He waited for a moment to see if that was the end of the story. She sighed, rolled her head, and slowly let her gaze fall on him, signaling no more was to come. He couldn’t think of what to say to this story, but mercifully, he read in her eyes that she expected nothing in return.

He looked down, then back at the classifieds for a moment, then back to her when he found something to give her. “But if their paths were never to cross, how did they explain eclipses?”

“I don’t know,” she said ponderously, her gaze returning towards daydreams. “I suppose they might have a story for that, too.”

Subjunctive Mood – 6

He woke up with excitement, at least until the shades of last night’s dreams fled his mind and he realized what day it was. Tuesday. He looked at the depression in the bed that Liz had occupied before he awoke. The distinctive, matted shape of her body in the tousle of sheets was more than a tracker could hope for. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he fumbled around in the clutter on the floor for his underwear and kicked a limp, oily condom into a pile of trash in the corner of his bedroom.

Perception rose in slow waves as his mind struggled from under the covers of sleep. Arm scraping along the wall, slight pain. Disturbing amounts of light coming through open blinds. Feet slapping on cool linoleum. He found himself in the kitchen, looking through the refrigerator, hoping to find some scraps that didn’t require work to be made edible. Disappointment. He found himself reaching for a cleanish-glass by the sink to pour himself a drink from the tap. Disappointment again. She had done his dishes before she’d left, as usual.

He allowed a sound of guilty admiration to escape, reaching into the cupboard. The slosh of the glass filling was oddly soothing. Between cool draughts of minerally water, he wondered how long it would last, how wrong he was, and how unfortunate the situation was. He didn’t want to be doing it, and it wasn’t as if he felt nothing. Feeling was there, but it only underscored painful antipodes, like peeling wallpaper in room full of Swedish furniture. The sooty residue of love lingered on the walls of his ribs, but he knew it still burned bright in Liz’s hearth.

She knew, he thought as he looked out the broken window blinds. It looked like more rain today. She had to have known. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes, sense it in the way she crept around him these days, stepping delicately as if she were trespassing.

Parting two dirty, plastic slats, he peered mindlessly into the street below. He had to put a stop to it; he had to stop hurting her; he just didn’t know how. She was a good girl, didn’t deserve this. She was good, wasn’t she? Sure, there were a few times before he’d passed the point of no return, some regrettable things they were both ashamed of, done out of spite. The point remained though, whenceafter the touches lost sincerity and the words couldn’t even be faked. He tried hard many times, but the old feelings could not be coaxed back to life. Where beautiful truths go after they die, he couldn’t seem to follow.

He first looked scornfully at the damaged blinds, then at the rest of his filthy apartment. He’d get his cut soon. It’d be well spent cleaning up this shitheap: a new couch, decent curtains, a mattress that didn’t leave him every morning feeling as if he’d been in a car wreck the night before. Hell, he could afford to rent a new place, a hell of a nicer one too, with the cut he was promised. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let Julia put one foot inside this one the way it was now.

Julia. Thinking of her while the scent of Liz still lingered on him made him feel boyishly ashamed. He never asked to meet her, and it wasn’t his fault that she filled his head with fresh excitement, and it wasn’t fair to Liz but it wasn’t fair to him either. If Liz knew, why wouldn’t she do something about it? Why couldn’t she be the one to angrily confront him in tears on his doorstep, or even more mercifully, leave an angry message scrawled in lipstick on his bathroom mirror?

Because you let her stay. He washed the bitter-tasting answer down with another gulp of water. Returning to his bedroom, he fumbled through a pile reserved for blue jeans until he found a pair with a wad of cash in the pocket, which he promptly slipped on rather than waste time looking for a clean pair. He desperately needed to put something inside his stomach, which was snarling so loudly he dialed a cab before beginning to think about donning a shirt. He plodded heavily down the stairway of his building; as he opened the entry door, the first drops of rain were just starting to fall.

He leaned against the alcove just outside the door, watching the rain, if it could even be called rain. It never exceeded a casual pace while he waited there: big, lazy bomblets unconcerned with where or what order they landed. He lost the time in their strange rhythm; how much, he wasn’t certain, but it went by, as it does in dreams. The taxi rolled up, sleek and vivid in perspiration.

The door closed with a luxurious thunk, sealing the gray world without.  “So, what great capers am I whisking you off to this time?” called a familiar voice. A glance at the rearview mirror showed him the same eyes that took him to his first meeting with the Boss.

“You again? I didn’t think I tipped you that well,” he snarked at the old cabbie.

“O-ho, if that were the case, I’d be your man in a minute. The sad truth of it is, no-one tips well, but at least you tip, eh?”

“So it’s the thought that counts? You could have told me that last time and saved me some change.”

“In my line of business, thoughts pay the rent.” He wasn’t quite sure what the cabbie meant by that. “I wouldn’t object to you payin’ me for conversation one bit either, but all the same, the meter’s running, kid. Where to?”

“To food,” he wavered. “Star Cafe on Darcey, I guess.”

“Ya guess?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you guessed wrong, you’re going to Keller’s Deli on Broadway, and you’ll thank me for it latah.” So they drove. The winding streets swam quietly underneath, the dark sky slept overhead, and the faded scenery passed without notice. And despite his misgivings, the new food was actually quite good.

To Catch A Djinn

“To catch a Djinn!”

The sonorous pronouncement flittered in his dream-state, like bat at dusk, only visible when the eye is lucky enough to intersect its path of flight. He stirred in waking, sure the that the words were the byproduct of his twilit mind. As his eyelids forced themselves open, he found the stars out above in full force. The shadow world around him was still… except one. One shadow refused to stay itself, scurrying about with its preparations.

The realization that he was limited in movement dawned upon him, and with it came a panic that he very nearly lost himself to. He struggled against his unseen bonds as his mind struggled to gain control of the situation. In a childhood fever, long ago, he once awoke without the ability to speak. He thrashed around, mouthed silent pleas fruitlessly to his parents. Within minutes he had regained his voice, but the panic had not helped him then, and it would not benefit him now.

The cloaked figure had its back turned, its jerky motions disturbing the Milky Way and it’s coterie of phantasmal lights behind him much as a drowning beetle would a puddle. Those lunatics had captured him. He looked around as much as his neck would let him, but he saw no sign of Cibba. The hope that the old codger had escaped this fate was bittersweet. Slowly, slowly, he felt out his bindings.

Rope? Maybe.

The bindings weren’t limited to his wrists; he couldn’t move his arms or legs in any sort of meaningful way. He felt as if he were tangled in his bedsheets and unable to wiggle his way out. Sashes perhaps?

The cloaked goblin began spewing nonsense chatter, crescendoing in excitement. To hell if he was going to be Djinn-bait for this little rat-man tonight, to hell if he was going to find out what a Djinn was at all. Absolutely uninterested.
Keeping an eye on his captor, he worked against the ties, working them one direction until they would give no more, then changing tactics. He hoped it would be much like working out a tangled length of yarn. His mind turned back to Cibba… what if he had been first? The terrible thought ravaged his imagination. Poor Cibba, the round one failure. The terror of his last moments. The mixture of delight and frustration from the lunatic as he watched the quarry come so close then slip away.

His attention snapped back into focus when he realized the cultist was looking in his direction. Hoping to dispel the affectations, he relaxed his neck and arms and closed his eyes. It was only moments before he felt hot, acrid breath across his face, curling his nose hairs. When his eyes flew open, his view was filled with a twisted, mottled nose erupting from black pit of a hood. He scrambled backwards with the best of his ability, but he couldn’t escape that nose. It followed backwards, hovering never more than an inch away from his. His hand hit a loose patch of gravel and his heart stopped as he put weight on it, the hand slipping from under him and sending him spinning onto his stomach. His face met the abyss, pebbles and sand skittering off the precipice, glinting in the starlight until they vanished and became stardust. This was the end of the road.

With amazing strength for his stature, the runt fanatic hauled him off the edge and onto his knees. His heart dropped as he realized the maneuver was just to get into a better position to throw him back off the edge. He felt the wrappings around his legs loosen as he was dragged upwards, and immediately took advantage of the slack. He struggled fiercely against his attacker, pulse pounding in his temples, mind blank except for the consuming rage that impelled him to do everything to stay alive.

Feet straining against the gravel.

His free hand clawing at that grotesque nose.

It wasn’t enough, he was losing ground quickly.

Then that terrible moment came, for the first time in his entire life. His left foot was touching vacuum. His heart stopped, his stomach lurched with despair. The moment he tumbled backwards lasted a lifetime, but it wasn’t long enough. You might compare it to that moment when you fall from a great height in a dream, and you know you’re a dead man, but then you’d be all sorts of wrong. Gravity took on an unfamiliar feel as he watched all that could have ever been speed away as he sped down.

His brain was too busy screaming to fathom what was happening when gravity returned. A raucous blur of consciousness was supplanted by metallic whine. His vision was blinded by an indescribable nothingness, an unseeing. He could feel it though. A wave of emotion that wasn’t his at all. It had a familiar smell to it. It almost felt like…

His faculties returned to him in just enough time to see his sneering executioner at eye levelonce again, followed by what must have been a spring loaded net that caught the top half of his face, along with his unseen saviors. The pain of being punched by mechanical force was soon overwhelmed by the feeling of falling again. His mind was full of obscenities at this point.

Through all this falling and flying and falling again, a familiar feeling registered. He knew this feeling, yes. Something tangible, comforting. This was the sensation of his shoulder dislocating. His fingers went nearly numb for the burning and tearing of their entanglement in the net. He used all the strength he could transmit through his failing arm to keep them from slipping out.

Looking up, the net was suspended by a thick rope that disappeared over the edge of the road into safety, and inside of it buzzed a swarm of blurry flutters beating against the fibers, like caged moths.

He could feel the cloaked rat-man frown as it peered down over the edge at him, then pulled back out of sight. He knew what the bastard was up to. It was going to wait him out, till the eventuality of his fingers giving out came and went.

Through the excruciating pain, he refused to give up on opportunity. He was running out of options fast, however, as he was completely unable to lift his own weight on his maimed arm.

A minute went by. The buzzing ceased. Craning his neck upwards, he could no longer see any captured Djinni above, only a fluorescent dust that floated through its prison and out into the void.

Another minute went by. He was wondering if he would pass out before his fingers gave out. For the life of him, he couldn’t get his other arm free of the sheets. A commotion came from up above, the rat was doing something up there. If only he could hold on…

A shrill screech pierced his fatigued senses, and he perceived a bundle of ragged robes flying past him, down into the sea of stars.

“Hold on, kid!”

Goddamnit, he thought. He looked up one more time to see Cibba’s welcome countenance. The rope lurched upwards. In his relief he nearly fainted, but to have done so might have sealed his doom. He fought tooth and nail to deny the universe’s supreme sense of irony.

…….

‘Jesus’ was all that Cibba had said, when he hauled himself over the edge and onto the road.  To lie there was all he felt he could do while the old man sat on his haunches, facing space. Each time his chest heaved upwards, he hoped clarity would return. Each time it fell, the fatigue showed no sign of abating.

“How bad are you?” Cibba mumbled without disturbing his blank gaze.

“I think I’m gonna make it,” he breathed raggedly. “My arm’s fucked, but I’ll make it.”

“Those things didn’t catch him.”

His chest rose and fell a few more times. “You worried he’d be back for more?”

“No… shit no. I just… I mean… I guess the things don’t like those bastards none…”

“Looks… looks like they’re on our side. Must be smarter than we give ‘em credit for.” He turned his head and looked at the old man’s profile. He had a beleaguered, worrisome face on. “Are you ok?”

Cibba paused, looking for the words. “I told you I ain’t never killed a man before. It ain’t right, no matter what.”

“Shittsake, Cibba,” his voice finding renewed vigor, “you just saved my life! I hope that psycho’s guts are turning inside-out down there.” Cibba just sat there looking like he never needed a cigarette so bad in his life. Like his indomitable spirit had shrank to that of a child.

The elder man moistened his lips, found his voice. “You were gone, I woke up and you were gone. You wouldn’t leave me. I knew you wouldn’t have. Any other man, I’dda just thought he’d up and left and I’dda checked to make sure all my stuff was still there, hear? Not you kid. And it was wrong, all wrong. I knew ‘cause one of them flyers woke me. It was just sittin’ on top of me, scared the piss right out of me…”

“Djinn. I think that’s what they call them.”

“Whatever. I followed and… then I saw you just hangin’ off the road. Out there in space. I knew it was you. I thought you was gone. And I knew it. I never moved so fast in my life, son, I swear. I got to you, and… Jesus hell I was so scared and didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I was scared because I didn’t know what I was doing. I just didn’t know… even up till the point I threw him off. I didn’t mean to… but I guess I did, I dunno. I didn’t have a choice.” Cibba crept to the edge and peered over. “I didn’t have a goddamned choice.”

“How did you know which way to go?”

“I just told you. I followed. Your Djinn-thing. At first I didn’t know which way, to look for you this way or go back, but then I realized that flyin’ Djinn was still there. It was lookin’ right at me, ugly sunnovabitch. It started going, and I dunno why but I followed it. Followed it longer ‘in I should have in my right mind. But half an hour later, I saw you. Ugliest guardian angel I’ve ever seen.”

Though it pained him to chuckle, the rise in spirits was more than welcome.

“We need to get away from here, in case any more of them come. I need you to help me with my arm, it’s out of the socket.”

Cibba crawled over and helped him into a sitting position. He ground his teeth as his humerus ground against the wrong side of its fitting.

“Want me to just pull it?” Cibba asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah, I’ll do the rest.” A bit of blinding pain, a more than uncomfortable snap – and good as new. Almost.

Cibba staggered from his knees with a little difficulty. “I left all my stuff back there. Gotta go back for it.” The moon loomed behind him like an ancient titan, an immovable effigy in contrast to the backdrop of the waltzing cosmos.

“Feels like we’ve been walking for years. What’s it to add another hour?”

Cibba nodded, not in agreement, but in sympathy.