1001 Sins | ✔

the man who wished for the world

"I need a favour, chosen one."

Those words are the last worlds Mustafa ever expected from the creature that holds his soul in the palm of his hands.

The nickname rings something in him, a nickname his dead grandmother used to call him as a curious child because of his affinity to save things, he would take up the stray lizards and rat on the streets and feed them, nursing the sick ones to health before letting them go, it was as if he had been chosen to save them. It was also ironic that his name also meant the chosen one.

Ten years ago, he sold his soul for a vain thing, does he regret it? It is hard to decide, a man without a soul is a man without a vision, a will, a choice. For ten years he has lived like a ghost, having everything but uncaring about it all. Mustafa is like the King Midas, the man with the touch of gold, he is king of the world but slave to himself.

Ten years ago, he was a wretched man, starving and wandering into the desert to die alone, until he stumbled upon a Jinn, who granted him wishes. Mustafa should have known better because nothing good comes free, but in his defence he was starving and delusional from the desert heat so he had wished. He wished he was king of the whole world, every empire, every settlement, every powerful kingdom.

His wish had been granted, his soul was the price and he has not stopped paying it, he will never stop paying for it until the day he dies and fades away because those without souls have no place in the afterlife.

Ten years ago, the Jinn was in the form of a silver fox resting under a little oasis, now it is a handsome man, wearing a plain, dirty white robe. His skin is golden brown from the sun, reminiscent of a well traveled merchant. He had been wandering the walls of one of Mustafa's palace, the guards had caught him and brought him to their king; Mustafa.

Mustafa is not surprised to see him, he does not feel anything at all when he stares at the silver tongue creature. He waves a hand, dismissing his guards and they march out the grand golden doors — it had taken three months to make it, solely out of pure gold.

"What do I call you?" Mustafa asks, he twists one of the rings on his fingers and stops, sometimes he just stares into space, unfeeling, unseeing. Sometimes he wonders how he has survived all these years and sometimes he thinks of taking his own life and every of those times, something holds him back.

The Jinn looks surprised, thick brows furrowing. Ten years of lacking emotions has sharpened his focus to the emotions of others.

"Call me?" The Jinn asks.

"Yes, ten years ago, you asked me to call you whatever I wanted." Mustafa says emotionlessly. "What shall I call you today?"

The Jinn grins sharp, exposing less than human teeth. Mustafa wonders if the Jinn has forgotten every single thing that happened ten years ago, because he hasn't, he thinks it over every single day until the memory bleeds into his dreams and he wakes up, drenched in sweat and screaming for something he can never have.

"Call me Omar today," The Jinn says, it does not wait for the order to sit, it settles down on the cushions before Mustafa's golden throne. "I need a favour." It repeats.

"You are a Jinn, a creature of magic, a wielder of magic, surely you don't need the help of one little mortal." Mustafa points out.

"This mortal is now king of the world," the Jinn makes a sweeping gesture.

"All thanks to you." Mustafa does not sound remotely mocking as he says this, he is just saying facts.

"I wish to return your soul, in exchange for a favour." Omar says, firmly, as if he leaves no room for argument, it makes Mustafa wonder who is the real king in the room.