DARK WISHES

Hi, Babe. I made this recording so you can know the truth. I would rather tell you and our son this in person, but I fear that would put both of you in grave danger.

It all started the day I found a book. This black book on the bench beside me at the bus stop. I flipped through it. All the pages were blank, except one. It read, “Make A Wish”. Just as I discovered the words, the bus pulled up for work. I quickly shoved the book in my bag and decided to try to find the owner of the book another day when I wasn’t in such a rush. When I got home from work later that day I was starving, but you weren’t home yet. I sat my bag down and noticed the book. I took it out and flipped through the pages again. Nothing, except those three words again. “Make A Wish”. Jokingly, I wrote, “I wish my wife walked through the door, carrying an extra-large pizza and a bottle of cheap wine.” Seconds later, I heard you come in the door. You called out for me and let me know you had dinner. At first, it didn't come as a shock to me, since grabbing food on the

way home is a common thing for either of us to do. I walked into the room and realized you had brought home exactly what I’d asked for. An extra-large pizza and a bottle of wine. I thought it was odd, but I chalked it up as a coincidence.

Later that night, I saw the book sitting on my desk where I had left it and my curiosity peaked, so I opened it again. Same words, “Make A Wish”. So, I did. This time, I wrote down and wished for a promotion at work. I placed the book back on the desk and got a good laugh after realizing how silly the idea of a book really granting a wish was.

After a good night of sleep, we woke up and it was routine as usual. Shower, coffee, kiss, then out the door to work. I walked into work and the atmosphere felt different. I got to my desk and there was a note telling me to report to my boss’s office. My first thought was that I must have fucked up somehow. The last thing I wanted to do was lose my job. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Upon arriving to his office, my mouth dropped in disbelief. My boss just gave me a huge promotion. I was getting a new office, a company truck, and $20,000 raise per year plus bonuses. That's when it hit me, what I’d wished for the night before. It had to be another coincidence. Things like this don’t just happen because of something you write down in a book, do they? I had to make a wish that would be unmistakably clear, just to be sure.

As you know, Dad’s stage four liver cancer weighs heavy on my mind. I take his refusal of treatment even harder. “I’m not spending the last year of my life in bed and sick”, he says. “I want to enjoy as much as I can, while I can.” If there was ever a chance to make a wish and have it come true, this was it. I’d wished for this every single day since his diagnosis anyway, for him to be cancer free. Writing it down in that book just came easy. Three days later, Dad called. The doctors were baffled. He was so overcome with emotions and barely able to speak. Stage four liver cancer, completely in remission. He didn’t know how it was possible but, I knew exactly how. This was the work of the little black book. Even though I was so happy for my father, a chill ran down my spine. What the hell is this little black book? How is this even possible? I needed to know more. I found a place at the South end of town that specializes in rare books. I took it in to see if I could get some answers. Jacob Bensley was an older man. He had a British accent and was probably in his mid-50’s. I figured it would be best to not mention the wishes I’d made, for fear of sounding crazy, and just see if he knew exactly what I was dealing with. Upon examination, he discovered the paper was made from papyrus. Papyrus is a plant the Egyptians used to make paper back in the pyramid days. Jacob was shocked and asked me where I’d gotten the book. He’d never seen a book of this age preserved so well. He then discovered that the original cover of the book had been covered in black material. He believed the true origins of the book could be discovered underneath that cover. Reluctantly, I had to leave the book because it would take too long to remove the material without damaging the cover. I needed answers though, so it had to be done.

I went to bed that night and had a dream. In the dream, I was standing in a cage with the black book in my hand. I felt a loneliness I had never felt before. I opened the book. From the pages flowed blood. More blood than I had ever seen before. The blood finally stopped flowing, but then started moving as if it had a life of its own. Although I’d never seen a demon before, I’d imagine that this form the blood took on was exactly what a demon would look like. Whatever this thing was, it looked at me with glee. As if I was dinner, and it hadn’t eaten in years. I wanted to wake up. I screamed in the dream, attempting to wake myself. It was as though I was trapped in this nightmare. Finally, I woke up. You were standing over me. You had never looked so beautiful. I told you I couldn’t remember the dream, but I did. I’ll never forget it. The feeling of sheer terror. It was then I knew that I had made a huge mistake. I feared what was to come of me making those wishes. For the next few nights, I had the same dream. Each of them equally as terrifying as the first.

After a few days, I got a phone call from Mr. Bensley down at the bookstore. He demanded I come in as soon as possible. I went down to the store. As I reached for the door handle, I shook in fear. I knew deep inside that whatever he had to tell me wasn’t going to be good news. Standing beside Mr. Bensley, was a man he introduced as Mr. Cummings. Cummings was a retired mythology and folklore professor. Cummings asked me if I had ever heard of a Jinn, or as some westerners would know it to be called, a Genie. I told him yes. I had watched, “I Dream of Genie” as a kid, but I didn’t understand what that had to do with the book. He explained that in Arabic culture, the Jinn was believed to be real. Mr. Bensley sat the book in front of me. He had taken the material off the book cover revealing writing in a language I had never seen before. Cummings explained it was written in Arabic. “Before I tell you what it says, let me explain the folklore behind the Jinn. The Quron says that there are several different categories of Jinn. The first one is the Malak Jinn. They are pure and protect us and are made of light. The second is the Shaitan. It's the opposite of the Malak. They are demons in western belief and they only want pain and suffering for mankind and have been known to do anything to corrupt humans and collect souls. They’ve also been said to have traded wishes for souls.” After a brief silence, he laid a piece of paper in front of me. It read “Whoever wishes upon me three, twelve new moons your soul belongs to me.” My heart sank as I read the paper. I’d never been more terrified. “Please tell me you didn’t make any wishes”, Cummings said. I could hear the worry in his voice. “Jinn are known for using oil lamps, bottles, and even books as conduits in their pursuit to communicate and harm mankind.”. As if that information wasn’t mind blowing enough, Cummings then tells me that underneath that black layer on the cover of the book, was a disturbing discovery. He said “The Jinn used this method of binding the book with human skin to give it power.”. They both helped me to a table to sit and Mr. Bensley poured me a glass of water. I told them both about the three wishes I had made and about the nightmares I had. Cummings explained that things would get worse and that I may be putting my family in danger.

I can feel the evil around me growing. I can never let you and our son suffer for my mistake. Mr. Bensley and Mr. Cummings have vowed to help me win my soul back. Even if it takes us going to the ends of the Earth. If we are successful, I will come back to you. If not, know that I love you both. Goodbye, Stacy. I’m so sorry.