The story of the Djinn and Zennie
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
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