The story of the Djinn and Zennie

 

Zennie And the Djinn

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental (and sad for we should all do our part in fighting hunger and poverty!).

   Zennie quickly loaded the last bag and box into her car's trunk, slamming the lid twice, praying it wouldn’t pop open again. Her vehicle was on its last legs, barely holding on. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she volunteered at the food bank before heading to the thrift shop where she worked afternoons. Volunteering there was her only way to gather enough food to keep malnutrition at bay for herself and her three daughters. Despite her meager income, Zennie made just enough to disqualify her from government assistance, including food stamps. As a widowed mother, every dollar counted toward keeping the lights on and a roof over their heads. Frivolities like cable TV, Xbox games, or even a streaming service were luxuries they could not afford. Even the Internet came courtesy of her father.

  On this typical wet and cold Seattle day, she found solace in the little things. It had been less than a year since Luke’s death, and the lawsuit against the company that owned the dump truck that claimed his life was still pending. Her old jalopy sputtered long after the ignition was turned off, a mechanic’s term called “dieseling.” She knew it was only a matter of time before the car gave up the ghost too. Yet, a small victory brightened her day. The parking spot behind the thrift shop closest to the back door was miraculously empty, sparing her from being drenched by the rain that fell in sheets, rendering her umbrella useless.

  She donned her apron, pinned on her nametag, and took her place at the counter, sifting through items left for consignment or simply donated. That’s when a peculiar gentleman entered the shop. He was impeccably dressed, a silk neckerchief tucked neatly at his throat, and as he approached, she realized how much he resembled Hargraves, the father from The Umbrella Academy. The older man lamented as a younger companion helped him unload boxes onto the counter. His partner, he said, had passed away a few months ago. His partner had been a movie star of some renown in a bygone era. Now, forced to downsize to a smaller home, there was little space for what he called mere trinkets from a rich and wonderful life.

  As he prepared to leave, Zennie asked if it was a consignment or a donation. With a smile, he replied, “A donation, of course,” but then he reached into the box and handed her what he claimed was a movie prop, Aladdin’s lamp, he called it with a chuckle. He wasn’t donating it to the shop, he said, but gifting it to her personally. Her radiant beauty, he said, had brightened his day. With a twinkle in his eye, he remarked how his late partner would have loved to have seen her gorgeous eyes, probably even commenting on how she resembled a starlet from days long gone.

   Finally, with a wink, he said, “My dear, I believe I still have one wish left on this lamp. So, I’ll wish that your three wishes be far more rewarding than my first two and that the Djinn will be freed after your third.” And with that, he and the young man assisting him walked out into the rain.

  After a long day, Zennie’s shift at the thrift shop had finally ended. She picked up her daughters from her parents’ home and pulled into her driveway, feeling the weight of exhaustion lift just slightly. Once inside, she shed her work clothes, took a quick shower, and changed into something more comfortable. Dinner was simple. Just a skillet of turkey Hamburger Helper, but it was enough to fill their bellies.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the lamp, a peculiar gift from the mysterious gentleman earlier that day. She’d brought home a small container of Brasso, determined to restore the lamp to its former glory. With an old shop rag, once belonging to her late husband, she carefully polished the metal until it gleamed. The lamp, now clean and shining, seemed almost to glow with a life of its own. After tucking her daughters into bed, each of them whispering their bedtime prayers, Zennie sat alone in the quiet of the evening. The memories of her happiest days washed over her... those precious moments when she first held each of her daughters, the joy of their births, and the presence of their fathers by her side. The girls, now seven, five, and three, were like stairsteps in her life, each one marking a moment of joy and love.

 But with the silence came a familiar, tormenting loneliness, as though a small, darkly insidious voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of the life she once had and the void that now stretched before her. The voice whispered, “We don’t need a husband, but we want one... a man who will satisfy every desire of our heart and flesh! And he will be so handsome that everyone who knows us will see our worth and look upon us with envy!”

  Gripping the lamp tightly as tears streamed down her face, Zennie cried out in a pitiful, broken voice, “I wish for… the money! Yes, Genie of the Lamp, I wish for the money owed to me by the construction company, who killed my Luke. I wish for the lawsuit to be settled!”

  No sooner had these words escaped her lips than a genie appeared—a vision of astonishing beauty. The Djinn had full-bodied, wavy raven-dark hair cascading down her back, dressed in little more than a golden bikini adorned with jewels. Veils swirled about her, almost concealing her ethereal form. Her words flowed like honey as she spoke, “Oh, my dear, I must tell you... wishing for money always comes with consequences. And my first warning to you is that I do not live in linear time. Your wishes may be granted in the past, present, or future, sometimes in all three simultaneously.”

  The Djinn reached out, tenderly taking Zennie’s chin in her hand, turning her head from side to side. “You know, I walked freely among men as I was the beard, you might say, of the former owner of the lamp. I rubbed shoulders with the crème de la crème of Hollywood in its golden era. Looking at your wonky profile, I assume you’d want a nose job. It’s pitiful to see a woman of such beauty with such a nose. You will surely have more than enough funds to correct this. I learned long ago from you mortals, especially the superficial ones I dealt with in 1940s Hollywood, that everything is an exchange for beauty. And let me tell you, without a nose job, you’ll never get the man that little voice inside of you is pushing you so hard to find.”

  “What’s wrong with my nose?” Zennie asked, startled.

  “Oh, dear child, your nose reminds me of a Pomeranian. No wonder so many men have cheated on you, used you, or simply tossed you aside! And the type of men you actively seek? They are the kind who would eventually dump you just for your nose, if nothing else... when a prettier woman comes along. We have to change this!” The Djinn took Zennie’s phone and took shots of her profile. She said while holding the phone out, “Look! Zennie, your profile is truly horrid!”

  Sensing something very evil, the Djinn became a smokey, less than solid form, and said, looking at her with a gaze as piercing as an X-ray, “My little misguided one, you harbor a very powerful, evil Shaytan within you, whispering to your heart, guiding you to your ultimate undoing!”

  “What?” Zennie gasped in disbelief. “What is a Shaytan?”

  “It is an evil spiritual being that can whisper evils to Djinn and humans alike. It is a dark influencer,” the Djinn warned.

  The sudden buzz of Zennie’s cell phone jolted her from her thoughts. She quickly switched to speaker mode, her heart skipping a beat. “Hello, Zenaida? It’s Jorge from Gonzalez and Gonzalez.” His voice was steady but carried a weight that made her pulse quicken. “I’ve got some good news and some… not-so-good news,” he began, each word carefully measured. “We’ve managed to track down a video from an Uber's window camera that captured the entire accident. Their insurance company has agreed to settle, but…” Jorge hesitated, the pause pregnant with unspoken tension. “Because of what’s shown in the video, it’s in our best interest to avoid going to court. The offer isn’t as substantial as we initially hoped, but it will cover the funeral costs, hospital bills, our legal fees, and leave you with a modest nest egg… enough to secure your future for the next few years at least.”

  Zennie’s grip on the phone tightened as Jorge continued, “I can bring the offer and the check by tomorrow for you to sign. But Zenaida… I need to warn you. The video is… disturbing. Not just because of the accident itself, but because of something that contributed to it… something you might not be aware of… Zenaida, Luke truly loved you!”

  The conversation ended, and Zennie was relieved. She turned to the Djinn and said, “Take me back in time like you said. I want to kiss Luke goodbye. That morning, I was curt with him over money issues before he left for work, and he went out to start his deliveries and died without me saying goodbye. That is my second wish!”

  The Djinn then took Zennie out to her car and asked her to sit down inside. Smoke filled the car, but not from the exhaust, thickening until the crack in the passenger’s side of the windshield was obscured from view. When the smoke cleared, she was sitting outside the warehouse where her husband’s van was about to start its deliveries. As his van came out, she pulled in front of him and turned on the caution lights. She jumped out, ran to the van, kissed him, and told him how much and deeply she loved him. With a tear, she bid him adieu.

  Happy and exhilarated, she reached over, put in her earbuds, turned on her favorite rock song, and went off down the highway. As she went down the one-way street, she didn’t realize she had run a red light. Her music prevented her from hearing a crash, and at that moment, she found herself sitting in her driveway with the car once more 'dieseling.'

  Zennie then looked at the Djinn, crying, and said, “Thank you. I don’t even know your name.”

  The Djinn offered, “Oh, I’d like to be called Jenny. You know, if you look at some of the old black-and-white movies, I was an extra in many of them. Jenny was my name in the credits with various last names used.”

Zennie returned, “So nice to meet you, Jenny. May I make my last wish so that you’ll be free?”

  “Sure, that will be fine, but please do have that nose job after the settlement! So, what is your wish?”

  “I made a huge mistake long ago with my art professor in college. We almost became an item, but he was older, and his looks or height did not meet my standards. Yes, he was taller than me by about five inches, but he was not six foot two. So, I want you to show me where I can meet him by chance and go against that evil voice in my heart.”

  Jenny the Djinn vanished in a puff of smoke and returned 20 minutes later. She looked Zennie in the eye and said, “You poor, stupid child. Gus is magnificent and would be the perfect husband for any woman. He is far too good for you, I’m afraid. You see my little one Gus is a Godly man of the utmost confidence, yet he exhibits no formal form of vanity, this is not what you seek. You look for a man who is overly self-confident without any underlying reason for such, you look for a man who is the existential symbol of vanity, you look for a man who is so handsome that you feel that you would never be worthy of him truly, and it is this constant turmoil of trying to make yourself good enough to attract such a man that is your greatest flaw. And the sort of man you seek can never be happy with just one woman at a time, a recipe for your misery!

   If you truly want Gustav, I think you should just call him and say hello now, at this very moment! Do not hesitate; from what I just saw, this is a dire warning to you!”

  “I will, but first show me where I can go to him after I have this stupid nose job and reconnect. I know I was a fool.” The room filled with smoke, and then Zennie found herself walking toward Gus at an art exhibit. The sign explained that it was an exposition of Gus’s oil paintings, which appeared to be priced in the tens of thousands of dollars. She saw a very radiant woman wearing a long yellow evening gown standing by Gus’s side. She knew in a moment that the hair belonged to her. She had succeeded; this would be the night that she reclaimed Gus, a secure future for her children, and the wealth she always knew she deserved.

  Then the smoke was gone, and Zennie saw Jenny holding the cell phone out to her with Gus’s number ready to call. She told Jenny, “There is no need. There will be a party about fourteen months from now, and I will be attending and claiming him as mine. My superficial and silly days are over. I even know what I’m supposed to wear: a yellow evening gown like in that fairy tale movie that is so elegant that it screams success.”

  Jenny said, “Are you sure you don’t want to call him? You know, sometimes wishes don’t always turn out as they appear. Call him now!!”

“What, do you think he’s unattached and will drop her for me? Don’t be naïve. He’s not watching his phone, hoping I’ll call after all this time. The moment I saw was the perfect moment, and that’s when I must go to him!”

“Maybe he does watch his phone, dear, but if you choose not to call, I am free, but maybe we’ll meet again because I will walk for many centuries among the mortals.” And with that, Jenny vanished, leaving the faint smell of jasmine lingering behind her.

  The next day, Jorge stopped by with the settlement check at the thrift shop. He opened his laptop and showed Zennie the Uber video. And in the video, there she was, running the red light. The video showed plainly as day how Luke veered to the right directly in front of the dump truck, saving her life by stopping the truck. Obviously, he recognized it was her in the car, but she was oblivious to everything, fumbling with her cell phone, looking for her playlist. She cried for days, but somehow, now having a substantial amount of money, her grief was lessened.

  One year and two months later, after the swelling had subsided from her rhinoplasty and tummy tuck, Zennie spent all that remained of her insurance money on the airline ticket and hotel room. Then after spending an hour putting on makeup and catching an Uber, she stepped out on the sidewalk and walked into the most prestigious art gallery in New York City. Immediately, she saw Gus standing there, and her heart swooned. With confidence and self-esteem stretching almost to infinity, she reached out as a waiter passed by, took two glasses of champagne, downed them, and walked up to Gus. She was dressed in the clothes she had seen in the vision.

  When Gus saw her, he smiled as if he had just seen the love of his life. She now knew that it was truly happening. He hugged her and then said, “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you, and you came for my showing! And there’s someone here you must meet!” At that moment, a woman walked up, wearing the same evening gown as hers, with the same hairstyle. Zennie recognized her in a moment. Gus introduced her as his wife. He noticed the gaze exchanged between the two. He proudly said, “Zennie, this is my wife, Jennifer, but we call her Jenny for short.” The owner of the gallery waved to Gus, and he left the two ladies to talk. It was then that Zennie noticed Jenny was pregnant.

  Almost wallowing in her tears, Zennie felt the evil Shaytan within crushing her heart. She said to Jenny, “How could you do this to me? You knew I would be here this day, and you knew that I could claim him as mine finally!”

  “And I told you to call him. Right then, nose job or not! You were right to finally desire him, but I told you you’re not good enough for him. But he is for me, and for the little Djinn I carry inside me!”

The End