The tale of the Genie who lost her lamp has been told as a bedtime story for kids for a long time.
The story narrates, that the Genie was beautiful. Her last master fell in deeply love with her, asking her to become his wife. The genie didn't feel...
Ali sat down. The chair was old, and creaking under his weight. The bar was full of people, bustling in and out. Every time someone opened the doors, the cacophony of the market outside seeped into the dingy bar. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows on the dusty road. People rushed from one side to the other, buying the last things for dinner. Men wearing turbans, and women covered in beautiful clothes filled the streets.
Ali glanced down at the glass of arak he was holding. He drank it in one shot, letting the cold fire run down his throat. He sighed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "God, I miss napkins," he mumbled, eyeing his dirty hands. His hands, once perfect and clean, now were covered in dirt and grime.
The door was opened again. It closed, the hinges swinging. Ali hoped it wouldn't crash down on the overused wooden planks. He lifted his head, peeking out of his hood to see the person that came in. His turban was a white, hidden by the cloak he was wearing.
It was a woman, covered in head to toe with a cloak. It was old, tattered and filled with holes. Her shoes were muddy, while her face was hidden by a veil, as well as her hair. The only thing visible about this woman were her striking green eyes. They shimmered, almost captivating. Ali shook his head. "Women only cause trouble," he grumbled, remembering what his father had told him. He glanced down at his drink, trying to not look up as the woman passed in front of him. She smelt of jasmines.
The bartender had been polishing the old, and battered counter with a tattered rag. He was wearing some simple clothes, the sash around his waist a faded blue. He heard the footsteps approach him; he straightened up, ready to serve a glass. He froze when he saw it was a woman. His eyes narrowed before he broke out, laughing loudly. "It's you again!" He sneered, turning to the men in the bar. "Hey, everyone! It's the Genie Girl!" The men looked up, focusing on the only female presence in the bar.
Most of the men recognized her, since this miserably bar was the only way they could escape from their wives and families. They came here often, and it seemed this wasn't the first time this woman had appeared. Ali looked up, draining the last of his arak, pulling his turban back up after he was finished.
"Hey, Genie Girl! I'm sorry, but I still didn't find the lamp you wanted! Maybe you can search for it...in my bed!" The man sitting next to Ali hollered. The bar broke out in laughter, and more inappropriate and vile comments flew to the girl.
Ali didn't like this. He had been taught since small that women should be respected and never treated badly. Even if they caused trouble. Ali stood up, ready to go shield her from the crowd.
But the woman did something else before he could even take one step.
Her hand darted out from her cloak, holding a shiny knife. She threw it in the air, her green eyes following it as it arched perfectly and jabbed the wood. The handle quivered. "Now, if all you brainless camels have finished with your pathetic attempts to seduce me, I will ask my question." The woman leaned against the bar. "Does anyone want to go find the Missing Magical Lamp with me?" Her eyes flashed, passing over the whole crowd.
"Darlin', I already told you! You're just looking for something that does not exist. It's a children story," the bar-tender said, his tone condescending. "Go back to your family, or to your husband,"
Ali was still standing up, his hand on the table. He had been mesmerized by her words and actions. He came out of his daze, completely lost. "Sorry, but, what are we talking about?" Ali asked, his voice loud and clear. The bar shushed, and every head turned to him, even those stunning green eyes.
The woman looked at him with newfound interest. He was new. He was someone that could believe her story; someone that could help. "You don't know, kind sir? You don't know the story of the Genie who lost her lamp?" She whispered, slinking closer to him.
Ali shook his head, slowly lifting his hand off the uneven surface of the table. The last remaining drops of arak glimmered in the dying sunlight. The woman came closer, her eyes were a bright green. The green of a rare gem. A gem desired by all the men in the room. "Well then, let me tell it to you," she whispered, close enough for him to hear it.
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