Putting the Genie Back in the Bottle

Putting the Genie Back in the Bottle

To every myth or tale, there is always a shred of truth. There have been interpretations, as well as misinterpretations of the Genies or Djinns, as they were known.

They originated from the teachings of Islamic and pre-Islam Arabian mythology and folklore. For thousands of years there were stories or old tales of creatures with powers to control the elements.

It wasn't until the story of 1001 nights that they acquired wish granting abilities. With great power comes great disasters...(I know should be responsibilities)...but not in this case.

Over the centuries there were tales of people finding these magical bottles or lamps. The lamps traveled all across the world, being stolen, discarded or buried.

Most people think of Aladdin, picturing him having a perfect life and the Genie granting him wishes to be successful.  He had success, but came with a price that was never explained in the novels or movies more recently. 

This is not the story of Aladdin; yet there are some similarities. Like any story, as time goes by the facts get twisted and what may have taken place is anyone's guess.

With that said, I have my own story of a lamp, that I would like to convey to you. I was around eight years old at the time. Like most kids, I was always curious and asking questions, still trying to fit into my imperfect world.

One cloudy afternoon, my adopted Italianfather took me downstairs into his office.  I felt that this was strange because he always kept his office door locked tightly.  So he invited me in, I was trembling believing "bad" things were going to happen again.

He had an old metal desk and a wooden office chair with rusty wheels, that squeaked loudly across the concrete floor. He had a filing cabinet and an armadio; which is Italian for armoire.

I glanced towards the armadio, and noticed the black and white pictures of his family and then spotted an old lamp. He required me to call him Papa instead of dad.

So I said "Papa, is that a jug?" He had a crooked smile but said   "no, no, this is a bottiglia..err lampido." I felt that whatever the ceramic lamp was, that it had a special meaning to him. He said I must never touch it, and that his grandfather from Italy, gave it to his dad, and now to him.

So I never questioned him, because I knew better. Also, downstairs was our famiglia, or family room. Where my older adopted sister would be responsible for cleaning. There was a sofa and a older black and white TV, that was very seldom watched.

One day, my sister called me down to play tea party with our dolls.  As luck would have it, or coincidence that my Papa's office was not locked so without thinking I quickly sneaked in and went to grab his lampido.  Thinking this would be perfect for our tea party.

As soon as I reached for it, I heard a noise and accidentally dropped the lamp on the concrete floor.

I thought for sure it was going to shatter but instead there was a small crack in it, So i quickly put it back in the armadio. As I started panicking, I heard a soft hissing sound, but was too scared to look back as the lights flickered; I quickly closed my Papa's office door and played with my sister.

She looked at me and asked if everything was all right and I lied and said "yeah, I'm fine". At least I thought I was.  We played for a few minutes, then we heard the car horn...meaning our adopted mom was back from the grocery store and needed our help.

I kept wondering to myself, what was that hissing sound and why did the lights flicker.  I just passed it off as off as something with the electric.

Later that night, my tormentor came into my room, and his hands were like ice, as I lie trembling.  I waited for the abuse to start, yet there was nothing. As I waited patiently clenching my eye tightly shut; then I slowly opened one eye and gasped.  There was nothing in my room but a cloud of smoke.

Before the smoke evaporated, I caught a glimpse of...

(To be continued)