The Opal and The Genie

Dreadful Wind and Rain

The genie insisted he had no reason to love that girl as much as he did. It was obvious that this little errand after some lost piece of jewelry was just to get rid of him, which spoke of not only a spoiled nature on the girl's part (she was a princess), but a disregard for the well being of another person's soul. Whatever the princess had done for him while a child had to have been a whim, and now nothing more than a memory.

But when pressed upon for the reason why he loved her so, his heart would still call to those days when her soft hands mended the cuts on his face and her lips smiled too frankly.

Chapter 3: Dreadful Wind and Rain

A woman danced before Kyanna. It was midday and the desert heat covered the yellow land with rippling heat waves, yet the woman danced. Her skin shone like tarnished bronze, glossed with sweat. Long, orange-red hair whipped about her as she moved. She wore simple white cloth, which contrasted against her darker skin. Each movement accented the curves of her waist, her hips, her arms, her breasts.

Beautiful. More than beautiful enough to make Kyanna feel insignificant, princess or not, but the moment she thought it, beautiful didn't seem adequate. Too tame. Too...clean.

But what music was she dancing to?

Then she heard it: thrumming drums, a keening horn, and rattling zils. It was a kind of music she had only heard once, as a small child, when performers from the desert were still allowed in the kingdom.

"What is your wish?"

The woman twirled and paused to place her eyes upon Kyanna. They were an exotic amber and almond shaped. Beautiful.

"You know you heard me. I asked you a question. What is your wish? What do you desire most?"

Kyanna found herself answering without a thought.

"Jeremy."

The blazing woman snorted and danced on, flinging her arms into the air as though to caress it. Her full cinnamon lips smirked up at the tired blue sky with barely restrained laughter.

"A common man? Out of all the wonderful things of life, you wish for a man? Sweetheart, there's millions of men in the world. Do you really wish so dearly for something so commonplace?"

"He isn't commonplace! He's special."

"That's what they all say. But is he really?"

Kyanna screwed up her face. "If anything, they are all saying he isn't special."

"Our 'they' is different, sweetie."

The sun burned brighter. What kind of being could dance in this surreal heat without a hint of slowing or exhaustion? It was as though she were a part of the desert. As the woman's dancing grew in intensity, Kyanna thought she could see a message in the curve of her limbs.

Why not freedom? Why not dance? Why not the ability to find elation in simply being alive? Why not the endless eternity of the sky?

"Special or not, he's but a man. Are you really content to sink so low, little princess? Even born as you are to rule over nations? Don't you know what you are?"

A loud boom woke her. Rain pattered on the windows behind the wispy, pale curtains. They matched the rest of the yellows and pale off whites of the room, with accents of red here and there, such as the couch. It took her a moment to remember how she had come there. Then she felt the weight of the ugly gold locket at her throat, groaned, and covered her face with a pillow.