Writing Prompt

I cannot feel my nose I told the genie “make me cool” Alas, I am frozen

Lord knows The Lord’s nose Could smell the grief upon me A rank scent Like foul blood I’m covered head to knee

Search within A lamp A djinn Forgiveness through a genie?

Naught a wish But tempered action Naught frozen But fiery and steadfast Forgiveness, oh forgiveness Embrace thy present Release thy past

Holy cats, it’s frozen outside I cannot feel my nose I need a genie, to wish for warmth

Once upon a time there once this genie who was mean but sometimes nice. The genie had a daughter that she treated unfairly, genie found out that her daughter had a boyfriend and she was so upset. She dragged her daughter upstairs to the attic by her nose and turned her brother into a frozen ice sculpture

A cold gray sky darkened outside, while Oliver sat cozily behind his dark wooden desk acutely aware of the soft hum from his radiator. Smoke drifted lazily through the air off the tip of a cigarette, his ash tray already cluttered with the remains of many others. Without removing his calculating gray eyes from the case file in front of him he poured himself a drink. Amaretto, straight. The sweet syrupy liquor never failed to give his mind the edge it needed. Reading carefully over each minute detail of the file he swore, frustration burning its way through his reserves of reason. It wasn’t adding up. There had to be some key peace of information missing from his notes. It had already been months and he’d had no luck at cracking it. He stood, the old spoon chair scraping against the floorboards. Donning his worn straw hat, careful to place the black ribbon to his left, and grabbing his tattered green coat he set out to get some air. Walking the frozen streets of the city, people hurried to get in before the sleeting winter rain set in, but Oliver paid them no mind. It didn’t make sense, even in his line of work, priceless museum pieces didn’t simply vanish from display in the middle of the afternoon. That’s where all the evidence pointed however, and conventional policing had failed to yield results. That’s why they turned to him, Oliver Gray, knowing full well he’d stick his nose into all sorts of bad business in order to get results. An idea took hold of Oliver, his eyes narrowing with a surge of determination. There was one more stone to turn over. Pulling his collar up to block the wind, he set out on a far walk across town. His step quickening with renewed vigor now that he had a goal in mind the winter chill rolling off his shoulders. After a long trek through the filth rampant on the streets this side of town he walked in to a seedy little sorry excuse for a bar, walking straight to the bartender, not even bothering to put out his cigarette. He asked gruffly “where’s the djin?” The small Indian man behind the ramshackle bar, eyes wide, shakily replied “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oliver grabbed him by the collar, pulling him halfway over the wooden barrier, threatened “Ganesh, where’s the goddamned genie? I’m not asking again.” Ganesh hurriedly responded “he’s in the basement. I wouldn’t go down there, he has guests.” Oliver pushed past him as he made his way to the stairs behind the counter, shouting as he descended “where’s the painting you damned dirty afrit? I know you’re down here, and you’re going to give it to me or else I’ll see you bound within a salt shaker for the next millennium. So help me Barbatos!” When he arrived in the musty cellar space it was empty, save for a burning oil lamp, and an old painting.

My breath materializes in front of me, a genie’s smoke spilling out of my mouth, and it asks, ‘what do you want?’

Across the street, a snowman’s shadow lies limp on the grass. Its carrot has slipped low on his face, the body slouched as if it is grieving.

‘What do you want?’ my breath asks again, the white billows looming over my face.

My hands are frozen, my nose is frozen, my toes are numb stumps on the end of my feet.

‘When will I become somebody?’ my brain asks the snowman as the white air falls across my eyes. The snow man’s tiny stone eyes stare at me, unblinking, watching the oscillation of my breath, before its head rolls back across its back and splits in half on the grass.

We trudged through the snow, but to me it seemed as though we were going nowhere. The crest of the hill was just too far away. I looked to my companion. “Why are we going up there?” “I need to show you something,” Theo told me simply. I didn’t press him further, he seemed to be in one of his moods again and I knew that there was no use in making him angry. I shivered against the cold. Theo had woken me up suddenly, just after 5:00 and I’d hurried to put on my coat. But I’d forgotten my gloves and now I could feel the numbness creeping into my fingers and nose. The small lantern I carried was the only source of light and warmth. Each step made my body feel heavier and heavier. I wondered how Theo could continue so purposely, as though he had a duty to do and he wouldn’t let 3 ft of snow stop him. His every step seemed effortless, like he was taking a summer stroll. The only difference being the coat and his breath spiraling, like a genie from an oil lamp. After what seemed like ages, we had reached the top of the steep hill. I looked to Theo, “What is it that you wanted to show me?” He seemed frozen in place, looking to the horizon and still as an ice sculpture. I may have thought him one if it hadn’t been for his mouth moving as he said, “Just shut up and watch, Sam.” Obediently, I turned to look into the distance. We stood there for several minutes. I surveyed the serene view below, scanning the rows of town houses and farms as best as I could in the darkness. The only source of light in the world seeming to be my little lantern, but suddenly even that was taken away as a harsh wind stole the flame and left us in darkness’s clutches. “Theo?” I struggled to keep the fear out of my voice. “I’m right here, Sam.” I gripped onto his arm, knowing that he knew of my fear and would let me. Suddenly, the darkness was batted away by the break of dawn, light shimmering off the sheet of snow covering the village. I stared with a mix of wonder and thankfulness, feeling for all the world like I had just seen heaven’s light. I was snapped out of my trance by Theo’s voice, “Do you remember what you told me when we first met?” I looked at him, trying to recall. “You told me that I was too kind for my own good,” he still wasn’t looking at me, but his arm had gone to my shoulders. “At the time I thought that you were teasing, but now I realize that you were right,” finally he looked at me. “I couldn’t let you die in the dark.” The arm on my back pushed me forward, and I was tumbling down, down, down.

Snowflakes drifted from the opalescent sky, settling happily on the frozen ground with their fellows. I adjusted my grey bobble hat and gazed up at the heavens. A blob of the beautiful white powder landed on my nose, tomato-red with cold.

I thanked my lucky genie for such weather and good fortune. It hardly ever snowed in this part of the world. Entranced, I watched it float down, catching in the spindly leafless trees and swirling through the chilly air, growing in volume. I was getting wet, but I didn’t care. I tucked my long chestnut-coloured fishtail braid over one shoulder, suddenly feeling and obeying the urge to sing and dance with joy.

No one was around, anyway.

I sang happily, my sweet, clear voice ringing out. The air smelled like Christmas; cinnamon, nutmeg and chocolate. I never would dare to sing in front of others, only in the safety of my own home by the blazing fire. I was much too shy for my own good. But here, alone with nature, I was liberated. The snow wouldn’t judge. The snow didn’t care.

The odd thing- I was truly happy again, for the first time since Alex left. I didn’t need love. I didn’t need a partner. I was myself. And I was enough for me.

I was enough. I smiled.

As we once were we can never be again, Closer. Connected. As a genie to a bottle; But, we can become Like petals from a rose. Together, things fell like snowflakes dancing in the frozen winter. Now we have become distant. Our story has become fantastical, no longer familiar as freckles on a nose: More like a dream that we’re not even sure is real. This strange affair, When did it all begin?

(Now read in reverse)

The well had been in the village for hundreds of years. The sacred amenity is the heartbeat of all living things. An underground river feeds the well, and legend has it of an ancient god who pledged to feed the well for eternity. Village elders hold council there every evening after sunset.

The sun was at its highest point, beating down on the desert rooftops. The sound of dogs barking broke the silence as a vulture hovered high above the village.

The shepherd had finished his morning routine of tending to his flock. A vulture circled high above his head, searching for its next meal. The scavenger looked at ease riding the hot thermals.

A gust of wind blew dust off the sandy floor, causing the shepherd to adjust his keffiyeh. His aching bones warmed on the hot desert floor. Age was not on his side, and his attention turned to his parched throat. Holding his staff with a firm grip, the shepherd rose to his feet and headed towards the well.

Two children caught the shepherd’s eye, and he beckoned them over to share a cold pale of fresh drinking water.

The youngest child looked uncomfortable in the oppressive midday heat. The oldest child took a sip from the pale before handing it to his sibling.

Speaking with a soft authoritative tone, the shepherd told the children of the time he met a genie.

“Where was the genie from?” The oldest child asked?

“Well, he came from a land far away. He was sent by the ancient gods to help me when I became stranded in a desert storm.”

“What does the genie do?” Asked the youngest child.

The shepherd pulled back his shoulders and stood upright.

“He grants a wish.”

The oldest child looked inquisitive. Taking a step forward he spoke with excitement.

“What did you wish for?”

The shepherd leaned forward and paused for a moment.

“I asked the genie to send me to a frozen land” he laughed.

A voice called over from a near by house. It was the children’s mother. Scurrying home, the children left the shepherd standing alone by the well. The break was over, it was time for the shepherd to get back to his flock.