Djinn In The City

A cat howled at a man’s dark silhouette, as her alley was intruded upon. The man watched the yellowish eyes of the cat gleam in the moonlight, as the distant sounds of artillery and gunfire seemed both distant yet steadily approaching the city of San Duägo.

Most of the strays of the city vacated the streets as soon as they could sense the encroaching tension in the air, but not this cat, her hindlegs were crippled. Struggling to even walk, she was isolated in her domain of shadows, nurtured by the refuse the restaurant next door throws away.

Perhaps she will be adopted and her crippling affliction treated, but more likely she will be dead, as the restaurant is bombed out by the savagery of civil war.

Walking down the alley, the cat continued to screech at the intruder till he came out the other side, then tired from her efforts the cat laid her head down to rest. The man however was not done his task, and went down the barely lit city streets, as it was suffering a brownout.

Powergrid was failing, as was the city's health city, an ambulance stood stationary in the street, its drivers dead, the yellowish pus smearing their faces an indication they died of the plague. A ravaging hideous pestilence that had wiped out those that couldn’t leave the city before the quarantine, all the while war coming ever closer to the doomed city.

Smells of death lingered on the streets, as the roads and sidewalks were covered by litter from uncollected garbage cans. Some businesses remained open, despite the decisive red X painted on all the doors and walls. That scarlet letter indicated their fate as those infected by death, and to be kept in their newly formed ghettos.

What was a symbol of shameful ostracization, had become a unifying curse of death. All buildings, doors, and windows were branded with the sign of infection.

Those infected showed no signs of sickness, weakness, or bore any physical changes. Only when death was minutes away did their orifices ooze with yellow bile, and they’d slowly died from suffocation.

Foam disinfectant lathered the inside of homes that were filled with the bodies of the dead, and cars that had yet to be towed to the landfill. Gunfire in the distance, and the flare of lights over the horizon didn’t seem to break the tranquil stillness of the death laden city.

Smells of rot had been sufficiently masked by the smells of disinfectant spray that had drowned out much of the fresh air, only the stench of napalm carried over by the wind pierced through the haze of bleach fumes.

Turning the corner the man saw a terrible sight of reckless violence, a gang of youths no older than middle school seniors had brutally beaten a homeless man to death. Their church shoes were slick with his blood, as his teeth and bodily fluids stained the litter that covered the road.

“What the fuck you looking at mister!?” the youth cried out, his venomous hatred was fueled by the chaos of the city's downfall.

The man said nothing, he just apathetically looked upon the face of the dead man, and saw in him the brutalized beauty of life, smeared with the filth of a despised existence.

“Get out of here or we’ll kill you too!” a rock was thrown at the man, it smacked against his hat, that cast a shadow over his face. Everything on his body was tight fitting, and cast a shroud of concealment, hiding the man from sight, in the failing lights of the streetlights.

“Fuck you, lets get him!” The gang of youths brandished clubs and bricks and set upon him, to bring him to his knees, then to lay him low, so they could end his existence.

Eyes hidden in shadows looked at the anger and frustration on their faces, that they choose to alleviate through violence and murder. Before the biggest boy who led the charge could swing his bat, a flash of yellow streaked out from the man, and after a flash of yellow came a flood of crimson.

The youth’s chest was sliced open, and after a bewildered look of shock, his face contorted into anguish as he showed his friends the free flow of blood flowing from the narrow slit across his chest. It was too fast, and poured out in too large a volume to survive, the boys watching this became frightened. Screaming out in utter terror they fled, leaving their former leader to lag behind, feeling a grim coldness set upon his body.

Cold, he fell to his knees and started to whimper, “mother…mother!” The cries went unanswered as she had died of the plague weeks ago. Convulsion, the youth fell on his face, and his last moments of life were spent staring at the bruised and bloodied face of the Oldman.

Regret was in his heart as he died.

Allowing the blood to drip off his yellow sword, the man watched as the last trickle of crimson left the yellow blade, leaving it pristine once again.

A flashlight shined upon the man, and the shadows were gone, revealing a man who wasn’t exactly human. Dark, golden eyes without any white or blackness in them, pallid flesh appearing almost like silk, and a mouth that wasn’t there, but in its place a smooth patch of skin.

Earrings jangled on his ears as he moved to face the light, and the woman holding the flashlight was overcome with fear. Leaving in a hurry, she didn’t want to be the monster man's next victim, though she didn’t know he killed the youth only to end a problem.

Violence of mankind was a problem to him, as he was pulled from the ether of an enchanted oil lamp, he was used as a tool to bring about the desires of a man whose mind was sick.

First wish was to bring about the four horsemen of the apocalypse upon the city, as revenge for being confined into the sanatorium he was imprisoned inside. Having stolen the lamp in storage, he was unaware of its denizen being a wish granting djinn, one who had but three wishes to grant before being freed from his centuries long imprisonment.

Last man who used his power wished for the genocide of all the green skinned people, a wish that had even stripped the memory of their existence from humanity. A large gape in history and the past would forever be a mystery.

Two more wishes he had left to grant, having granted the wish of the horsemen being unleashed upon San Duägo, he had to find one worthy to get the next wish. The first received the wish for freeing him, but after making such a vile command, as soon it was granted the djinn ended his life.

Death, Disease, War, and Conquest would destroy the city, and its people soon enough, there had to be one worthy soul to take the next wish.

Soon he found a worthy soul, vanishing his soul back into the ether to await its re-summoning, the djinn crossed a long stretch of street, and heard a pleasing sound in the air. Following it, he came upon a small restaurant, it had no customers, and the only one inside was an old woman, singing a joyful dirge for those that had died.

Sad and sweet, the song conveyed the simplistic purity of her heart, and wishes for a better world. Entering the restaurant, she stopped singing when she saw in the light of her oil lamps, what had come to pay her a visit.

“You are Death?” the woman asked, as she clutched her shawl.

“I am Life.” the djinn answered.

“No.” the old woman denied that claim. “You…aren’t Death, I’ve seen him, lurking in the shadows, he comes by from time to time, though I never seen him clear enough to know his face.”

“You only see his face when you die.” The djinn offered no comfort for her fear of mortality and offered her the lamp. “I am a wish granter, take this lamp within your hands, and I shall grant you one wish.”

A moment of derision showed on her face, as if she believed it was a joke, but seeing the mouthless man speak to her, made her reconsider the offer, with growing earnestness.

“Can I wish for anything?” the old woman began to consider her options.

“I can’t undo the wishes of others, other than that, anything you wish is in my power to grant.” The djinn let the weight of the lamp rest on the woman’s grasp.

Momentarily she thought of what she may want, and ultimately settled on, “I wish for an end to all these troubles happening in San Duägo.”

The djinn shook his head. “Someone wishes for these things to happen, I cannot undo or stop them, this city is doomed.”

Sadness was in her eyes but wrath was on her face. “My husband, my sons, daughters, grandchildren, all died…and you brought this about, why?”

“The man who released me wished for this, it was not I who wanted this, I am compelled to grant the wish of my liberator.” The djinn’s words seemed flat as he struggled to sound unsympathetic to the evil he unleashed.

“Does this man live?” She looked disappointed as the djinn shook his head. “Why do you grant such evil wishes?”

“This is my atonement for centuries of ruling over mortal man, as punishment I had to grant one wish for every year I ruled over mortals. I had ruled many centuries, and spent many more fulfilling the wishes of others. The wishes I granted changed the history of mankind forever. I was imprisoned by those fearing my power, but I only need two more wishes to grant, and I shall be free once more.” the djinn realized his mistake too late, he shared too much with a woman bent on the suffering of those who wronged her.

“I wish that you will never be free, I wish that you will forever be a slave in the righteous cause of humanity, to act only in righteousness and goodness for all eternity.” The wish was granted, and the old woman looked at her doorway to see the face of a man standing there, it was the first time she could see his face clearly.

Before he would pass by her door, this time he entered and all darkness was gone from his face. Right in front of the djinn he saw Death reach out, a serene grace fell upon the woman’s face, and she died, her soul released by the avatar of the ultimate change. Satisfied with his task, he left the restaurant paying no mind to the djinn.

Taking the lamp from the old woman, the djinn looked upon it, and cursed his foul fortune, he was forever trapped as a servant of man. In his days of greatness he would split apart continents, and level entire civilizations to its primordial ancestry, but now he was forever a slave.

Nothing could undo his wishes, and he left the restaurant barely able to hold onto his lamp. Anger and resentment filled his mind, as he thrashed his body about, throwing a temper tantrum that shook the streets, and caused friction in the atmosphere.

Unable to contain his rage he let out a bellowing scream, that tore apart his flesh, forming a lipless mouth, that came words from his own, and not conjured for the benefit of others.

“Curses…curses…” weary from his retrained outburst, he collapsed to the street, right next to a dying child, whose stomach was distended from hunger.

Apathetically the djinn handed the youth the lamp, uncaring if he was worthy or not, he was too saddened by his fate to care. The youth grabbed the lamp, and spoke in wheezing whispers as his death was drawing near.

“What is…this?”

“Make a wish…anything, it doesn’t matter.” The djinn was defeated in his despair.

The child brain damaged from fever, and weary from starvation, asked for the first thing that came to his mind. “I wish I was in heaven…” the child’s life left him and he awoke in paradise. At the granting of the last wish the lamp disintegrated and the djinn was doomed to spend his life in servitude to the betterment of mankind.

A compulsion that would see him fight against the horseman he unleashed on the city. Letting out a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, conjuring the yellow sword, and went out into the city to smite the horseman, not using his wish granting powers, but with a sword and supreme strength.

***

Joseph Stalin was the Horseman of Famine, riding on a bloated gut donkey, he lifted his ebony scales over farmers fields, reducing them to rot. Stores of food he despoiled with his curse, and as he rode through the streets, he sapped the food that still lingered in the stomachs of the people. Taking vitality and hardiness from the people of San Duägo, he was about to fully destroy the last of the city’s emergency provisions when he was halted by a man wielding a yellow sword.

Stalin spoke in a brisk, sternness but the djinn was unfamiliar with Russian, and instead flung his sword into the horseman. Despite being an avatar of an old ailment of human society, the djinn’s blade was made by his hands upon the Cosmic Forge, it could banish such entities back to their abyssal realm to await their purpose.

The yellow blade dug into the chest of the horseman, and as soon the tip of the sword dug into his phantasm flesh, he evaporated into nothingness, leaving only the damage he had already done to the city. Retrieving his blade, the djinn had much left to do, as the sun was rising, and the Hell of war was still miles away, but fast approaching.

***

Mary Mallon, the Horseman of Pestilence, had finished infecting the newborn ward at a hospital with disease, condemning a new generation to an untimely death. Wielding a bow she shot humans with her arrows, driving in deep the disease that had destroyed so many lives in the city. Causing a conquest of evils from bureaucratic institutions to street gangs to erupt in Machiavellian thuggery to claim as much power, believing they could survive the plague she spread.

Taking aim at a young mother with her baby, waiting on a bench nearby Mary got her in sight, but froze when she saw someone fast approaching. Yellow blade drawn, the djinn swiped at her, but she dodged effectively, and shot him with her disease spreading arrow.

The arrow implanted in his chest, but no blood came out, or spread any disease, he removed the arrow and presented it to her with a mocking laugh.

“I am near to a god, such things are not even trifles to me.” cleaving her in two, the horseman vanished into the ether.

“You will come for me next.” the horseman of Death, stood behind the djinn, catching him by surprise. From all the horsemen, Death was one the djinn feared the most. He was a biblical entity, one who oversees the True God's efforts of change. For him it wasn’t evil he had done, but a cruel necessity, that would doom the world if it was not done.

“I am compelled to end this.” the djinn held his sword towards Death, who could easily make the djinn fade away into non-existence, by a single touch, word, or even thought. Death was in complete control of all fates, only denied by the Almighty if that time came.

“Yes, and I wish for it to end.” Death was sullen, he did not like to be left to his own devices, even as a mercy, death was a terrible thing to happen. “If I wasn’t here, people would suffer in hunger and disease with no hope of remedy or respite…since they are gone, I no longer wish to take lives.”

Before the djinn could think of driving his sword into Death, he vanished back to his domain to oversee the fates of all mortal lives.

***

Tornadoes of fire, crimson wind swept across the shallow fields of decay and rust. To call it Hell would flatter the unholy underworld, the lands of mankind had become a mutilated bloated corpse, waiting to expel its rot into the cosmos. After another blast of heated hate, the tumultuous explosion gave birth to a brigade of killers..

Raised on the bitter milk of loathing, they streamed out from the fires, bearing down searing lead upon the enemies of the Father Land. All the time propaganda filled their headphones, compelling them to press onward, towards the beaches, into the sea, fully exterminating the forces of the enemy, the elves.

Blasting through barricades of wood and razor wire, the torched and frayed standards of the nation that suffered long from civil war. Rebels guided by opposing nations to the current regime were ordered to utterly destroy San Duägo, unknowing that their tempers and blood lusting were enhanced by the Horseman of War.

Abraham Lincoln carried the battle ax of dissolution for the sake of unification, his brow heavy with the death of his own countrymen for the sake of power. Dissolution was no solution, and unity was a contract sealed with blood, Lincoln on his intimidating crimson haired stallion, stomped through the enemies lies, bringing down his ax on foe and friend alike.

“Kill! Kill! Kill all who impede this war-machine!” The caravan of tanks, aerial fighter grapes, and machine gun mounted vehicles stormed down the road. Running over the bodies of the dead, bringing down explosive hellfire in all directions as they neared the city of San Duägo.

As the sun rose a deep crimson, there was no one protecting the city from utter annihilation, but one figure, who went up the road, carrying a sword over his shoulder.

Lincoln stopped, his jaw stiffened and eyes aflame with unhindered hatred.

“Blast him! Destroy him!” The command was shrill and was obeyed as it projected to the minds of all the soldiers.

Rockets of all sizes soared at the swordsman, a millions of bullets fired at him, each one being moved aside by a greater force. Sending the bullets into the ground around the swordsman, and the rockets to be planted in the ground, disarmed by some psychic power.

Lincoln was enraged, the rebels stopped, halted by uncertainty, they dared not continue, even at the Horseman’s of War commands. “March! March!” war was not an eloquent speaker, and only told harsh command, and cajole with the promise of indulging bloodletting.

To convince them further was not in his abilities, and he was left to fight the swordsman alone. As the rebels backed away, Lincoln rode his horse forward, raising his ax, he let out a loud but shrill battle-cry, more womanish than masculine, it squealed sharply in the still, heated air. Speeding towards the swordsman, the ax of war fell as it swept towards his neck, but was met with superior metal of far stronger enchantment.

Before he could reel back, the Horseman of war was decapitated and him and his horse vanished, along with the crimson sun. Sunlight beamed in renewed as a golden awe, and sanity returned to the rebels, who entered the city not as destroyers but as aid, bringing medicines, food, and other supplies to comfort those that survived.

All of the approaching soldiers ignored the swordsman with the yellow sword, as if he wasn’t there, as he strode off into the distance, compelled to do right for mankind for all eternity.