“I… I can’t.” His voice was meek stumbling off his tongue. A feeble refusal of an inevitable conclusion. He felt silly. Foolish and small – something he wasn’t sure he ever had felt before, and if he had, perhaps centuries ago. Her hopeful eyes stayed wide as her smile faded. “Do you- do you know what you’re asking?” italicsPerhaps something else? italics He wanted to say. italics All the Belgium chocolates in Brussels? All the Shetland Ponies in Scotland? A mountain of toys. The castles of Bohemia in your backyard. italics “What… what do you mean?” Confusion. Disappointment. “I thought anything I wanted…” “--Yes but,” His mind swirled with alternatives as his dry mouth searched for words. “What you are asking – what you want, that is – I can’t do.” An odd aberration floated to the forefront of his mind; he remembered fondly a New English businessman who wished to be ‘made of money’. His pudgy, underworked and overfed form disintegrating as his flesh – pond for pond – was turned into quarters. Wide eyes narrowed. Disappointment likewise collapsing into a thousand clanging drops of anger. italics “Liar! italics I know what you are – you italicsjust don’t want to! italics” True – witheringly true. For a God-fearing servant like him, this was the greatest insult. The idea that he would blatantly deny a request like this… He shuddered. This was not him. He was better than this. The little girl, moments ago so full of hope and adoration, spat at his feet with tears at the corners of her eyes. Still kneeling in shock, she grabbed at the sand around her – the mindless response of someone’s greatest dream dangled in front of them so closely, and then denied. Beads of sweat – italicssweat? How long had he perspired? Had he ever? italics – grew on his brow. He needed to gain back control of the situation. The djinn put on his best paternal tone, and spoke, “it is not that I’m refusing to fulfill your wish, there are simply, er,” italicslike grains of sand between his fingersitalics “there are… italicstechnicalitalics problems with what you want, young lady.” The girl edged back from blind rage with a sniffle, “like what?” italicsLike, ‘it would kill me and a billion people, you stupid cunt!’ italics “Well, ah, you are talking about a very large wish. And a very complex one. And a very italicsgraveitalics one. Are you certain you have considered all the--” he stopped himself before he said ‘consequences’. Why, in God’s infinite wisdom, would He make rules against warning mortals of their wishes? He thought about the dozens of way-ward souls he had slighted over the years. Envious debutantes wishing to be beautiful forever becoming statues. Ambitious generals wanting to be the deadliest warrior becoming the carrier of civilization-ending diseases. italicsHow fair was ititalics, he wondered, italicsfor mortals to wander through their lives’ rudderlessitalics? To be ignorant of the hollow things they seek, to be ignorant of God’s love in granting them life – and to squander it on petty emotions like envy, lust, ambition, greed… Or hate. “… have you, uh, thought of all the other italicsthingsitalics you might want?” On the ground in front of her, the young girl picked up the photo she had dropped when the djinn denied her request. Her wet eyes reflected her mother’s smile. The IDF patch her mother wore the same one in her breast pocket now, though the one in the picture lacked the burnt burgundy of her mother’s blood splattered on the front.
Shoshanna looked up at the djinn with more resolution that he had seen in the Caesars or the Khans. “Yes. This is what I want.” A long moment passed. Then another. Ibn Fadlan looked down at her fierce eyes framed by her straw-blonde hair, his dark brow furrowed. When he spoke, it was barely louder than the desert wind. “Your wish is my command,” he paused, eons of sadness crushing his bitter, burning heart, “I hope this gives you peace.” With a sudden, deafening crash, a second sunrise blossomed in the distance. “italicsWa alaykumu s-salam wa rahmatullah. italics”