One Arabian Night

By Bethany Kohler

It happened one day toward evening, in the southern deserts of Arabia, that two males of the human race approached a certain oasis where I sat keeping watch.

The sun had just kissed the desert sands in the west when the two humans led their pack mule up to the spring and knelt to drink and fill their waterskins. They did not know their peril.

As a warning, I stirred up the waters of the spring. The strange bubblings and hissings scarcely drew their notice.

Then I sent a strong wind that lashed their garments about them, worrying the poor mule, and kicking sand up into their eyes.

I only succeeded in driving them to take refuge in my cave.

They set about building a fire. I made sure their fuel was damp, and that gusts of ill-timed wind should find their way into the cave. But the humans showed no signs of giving up or moving on.

I whispered warnings which echoed eerily off the cave walls. They only commented to one another how they could almost imagine words in the wind.

There was nothing else to do: I took on a physical form and stepped from the shadows into the light of their meager fire.

At last they had the good sense to show fear.

“Leave this place!” I commanded.

“But, good djinn,” one of them pleaded, “night has already come on, and the next oasis is ten leagues distant.”

The other human bowed in supplication. “Could we not stay till the morning, good djinn? We swear to leave as soon as the first hint of light touches the eastern sky.”

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “If you remain in this cave, you will be dead before you ever see the dawn.”

“Do not punish us so harshly, good djinn! We can offer you gold, and rare gems, in exchange for a night’s safe lodging.”

I cocked my chin. “Do you imagine I am the danger which threatens your life? You say rightly ‘good djinn’ for I am one who serves the Creator. This cave is a prison, and I am the warden. You do not wish to meet the inmate.”

The humans looked at one another. I could see that their curiosity had grown to rival their fear. They began talking amongst themselves, as though I were not exerting effort to remain visible to their feeble eyes.

“What sort of creature is more dangerous than a djinn?”

“He didn’t say it wasn’t a djinn. Perhaps the inmate is an evil djinn.”

“The sort they trap in bottles?”

“Or it could be a ghoul.”

I grew weary of their prattle. “Perhaps I was wrong, and you do wish to meet the inmate?”

They looked at me with eyes widened by fear, but behind that fear was a spark of eager excitement. Oh, the incorrigible curiosity of mankind. Very well. I would teach them a lesson they would not soon forget.

I took a firm grip of the creature’s metaphysical chains and gave it a measure of slack. It sprang with the quickness of a flea into the humans’ view, landing on its one leg and looming several cubits over their panic-stricken faces. It strained against its bonds and stretched out its single arm to claw at them. Its glaring eye glowed red fire.

I smiled smugly as the humans toppled backward, screaming in terror and scrambling over each other to escape the outstretched claw.

“This is the Nasnas. The half-man. Only the left half, mind you. A single touch will melt the flesh off your bones, leaving you as a skeletal heap in a matter of moments. Do you still wish to bed down with him?”

“Mercy, good djinn!”

“Forgive our insolence! We will do as you say. We will leave at once. Only don’t let it touch us!”

I yanked hard on the monster’s chains and sent it back to its confinement.

I watched in silence as the humans packed up their things with trembling hands and piled them onto their mule. The moon had risen, but it was only a sliver of a moon, and the night was dark. They kept glancing back at me nervously, and at the yawning cave behind me. I stood like a stone, showing no sign of my impatience.

As they led their mule away from the oasis, I saw that the poor animal’s head hung low, and it plodded along wearily. I took pity on it.

With a wave of my hand, I sent them to the next oasis. Not for the sake of the humans, but for the sake of the mule.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bethany Kohler is a writer and poet with a penchant for witty banter, a weakness for verbose descriptions of scenery, and a passion for weaving truth into fiction. She carries a deep regard for nineteenth-century literature, and counts many dead authors among her mentors. When she is not reading or writing, Bethany might be found baking delectable pastries, sewing historically inspired dresses, or singing anything from folk songs to Broadway tunes.

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