He wore blue jeans. This was the sight that struck me first, I don’t know exactly why this is, but he certainly would not have been what I had expected – having studied Arabian Nights and Arabic lore and mythology for many years. He stretched his arms, coppery and muscular, but in a soft way – the muscles down his bare chest were also quite muscular, but they looked plump and soft, leaving no doubt of the strength they possessed, but still giving a subtle elegance to his visage.

The faded denim wasn’t the only adornment on this fit well toned tan and mischievous looking figure before me, he also wore a thin gold braid in the shape of leaves of an odd shaped tree wrapping around the bicep of his left arm, and two thick plain looking gold bands around both wrists.

Stretching his arms, and yawning, he chuckled softly as I realized suddenly my mouth was hanging open, and his sultry voice spoke evenly, as he winked at me. He took me in from head to toe before seeing the old lantern held still in my hand, and speaking “As a servant to the lamp, to its holder I will grant, three wishes. Chose wisely.”

My breath caught in my throat, hearing him speak the words, this was the moment of truth for me, as the lamp had been given to me by a high school English teacher many years ago. After a week long study, many class discussions, and a debate what three wishes one would chose from a Dijnn. I remember the professor smiling as he took me aside at the end of the module, and placed the lamp in a silk pouch, and handed it to me. He said I had “won” the debate; being the only one in the class that had been completely aghast at the aspect that wishes would be granted by an all powerful being that was a slave to the whims of a mortal in possession of an antiquity, I had chosen to take the side in the debate of using the wishes in a humanitarian method.

The choice was a simple one to me, and as my thoughts cleared from memories of that long ago essay, I spoke the words that would forever change my life. “All powerful being, I take my boon and selflessly grant it back to you, freedom is yours my wishes are yours, may you walk among mortals once more.” Lowering my voice, I repeated the chant again in the Arabic, and slowly lastly in the Sanskrit, the three languages we had studied and I had utilized in my debate and essay so many years before.

The Dijinn, blinked, and his jaw dropped open. He looked me up and down, reaching out a hand tentatively towards me, and recoiling almost as if in awe or horror, the look of transfixed shock crossing his face. As the last words slipped from my tongue, the golden bracelets around his wrists cracked wide and open as they fell to the floor, the lamp burst into flames in my hands as it quickly burned out and turned to ash. His eyes locked onto mine, his face turned contemplative, and his eyes narrowed cat like, we locked eyes. and he began to circle my body in a slow methodical movement.

“What have you done, mortal” his voice on the edge of a combination of seething and awe. “Is this some fool ruse, did that camel merchant ancestry put you up to this”

I did not blink, I continued to hold his gaze and smiled sweetly, responding clearly, the words slipping out quickly, in utterance as is my normal blundering fashion for stating the obvious; “I set you free.” My voice trailing off at the end, as the heaviness of having freed an immortal, a magical creature started to sink into my core, my eyes drifted down and I watched his chest breath in and out with the slightest of movement, his breath so controlled, like the rest of his body, poised at that precise point between relaxed and controlled. Having left his gaze I did not see his eyes soften as he looked at me, his hand rising up so quickly I failed to notice, as he touched my cheek.

“Child, what is your name?” His voice soft and methodical, like a lyric sound pulsing through my head, his touch warm and cool and feeling, his words echoing with the sing song melody of magic through my core. “Lahnie,” I whispered grasping for breath, unable to contain the words from pouring out in response, in desire to please this being, “Lahnie Vale”

His hand cupping my chin and pulling my gaze back up to meet his eyes, as my body felt his magic course through his touch, feeling and touching me from the depths of my soul, before it just stopped, pulling back like a frightened beast, the torrent that had seconds before rolled over my body, suddenly ceasing as I swayed and his hand released me and his grip slide down to my shoulders to steady me, as I felt him lean forward and kiss my forehead.

He sighed loudly, and spoke softer now, without the magic behind the words, “I had not believed it was possible for you to exist, had not dared to hope.” His grip on my shoulders firm and almost painful, as he slide his hands down to my waist and he leaned in and kissed my forehead in a gesture of fatherly type love. “I mark you Lahnie Vale, as mine. Your words were pure, your intent devoid of any intent save compassion, and that has broken the centuries of chains that have bound me. You have given up your few three wishes, but in the place of those you have gained three things from me, my mark, my trust, and my boon.”

Pulling back from the Dijinn, suddenly fear overtaking me, I turned to run afraid from his words, knowing from all my readings that the words of a Dijinn are always magic, are always potently powerful and always rich with symbolism and gift or curse depending upon the mood of the particular immortal. Suddenly, the weight of what I had done in freeing this creature, and the words of my professor rang in my ears.

My unexpected motion shifted and his grip fell away and I sprinted away from him, he laughed, a loud bellowing sound, and his methodical loud bellow like a chorus of love ringing through all of the cells in my body, as I felt it rippling through me in such a pleasurable way, as I neared the door to the room, pulled it wide, and rushed out, closing it quickly behind me.