Disclaimer: I don't own Aladdin, or any variation.
Read on, oh faithful ones...
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Chapter One
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"Do not forget the lamp, we must hurry!" the first son, now a father, called to his own son.
Local police had become suspicious of gypsies lately, and were driving them out of nearly every town they visited. He hardly had enough food to feed his family, let alone the horses and donkeys, yet they had to move on again, only mere days after arriving on the outskirts of town.
"Can't we use it? Just this once?" his son asked, immediately regretting the words.
His father, who had told him the tale of the genie, the people he had hurt, and the death of his grandmother in order to bind the unnamed genie, glared down at him.
"Never repeat those words, nor think those thoughts. Get inside the caravan Ravi," he said.
With wide eyes that were brimming with tears, Ravi nodded and hurried to the brightly-coloured caravan.
He didn't dare tell his father that he could hear the genie talking to himself at night, during the day, whenever he was near it in fact. Taking the lamp, he put it in its usual spot near the door, and sat down on his seat, watching the lamp carefully.
In all of his nine years, the police had never once been interested in the lamp. His father always said that in order to hide precious things, they should be kept in plain sight. Even a piece of gold could be overlooked if it was in plain sight; the police always went for the hidden areas of the caravan to find valuables. Most of what they took was worthless.
You ain't never had a friend like me, the genie murmured. Whisper what it is you want from me.
"Open this caravan! Now, or you'll lose your filthy head, gypsy!"
"All right. Let me just get my son out," his father said.
The caravan door was opened and Ravi was wrenched from his sitting place on the bench. He whimpered in fright; he knew his part well.
"What's going on, Daddy?" he asked, his eyes wide and filled with fake tears this time.
"Nothing, it's all right, my boy. These men just want to look through the caravan. Please, leave my son. He's an innocent in all this!" his father said to the police.
The police, predictable in their suspicions, immediately started searching the boy. They didn't find anything of interest until a small satchel with two gold pieces in it was found in his pocket, and then they started demanding answers.
"That's my pocket money! I did my chores," the boy said, whimpering as he started to cry. "Daddy gave me the money for being good. Have I done something wrong?" he asked, crying into his father's shirt.
"Two gold pieces for doing chores? I don't think so," the police officer sneered, pocketing the gold pieces.
He threw the satchel in the dirt, stepping on it as he went into the caravan.
"Anything in here?" he asked his subordinates.
"Only one hidden box. It was filled with some rags, wool, needles and dyes. Nothing of value in the caravan, just a couple of worthless lamps. Rest of the bedding is legit," one reported.
"Let me look," the police officer hissed, practically pushing his subordinates out.
You're the boss, the boy heard the genie whisper, even though there was a distance between himself and the caravan.
Surely the police officer had heard him? What if he realised the lamp's true worth? He silently begged for the genie to be silent. The genie didn't listen.
You're the king, the shah. Say what you wish.
The boy moved towards the caravan, keeping an eye on the other policemen. His father was the only one who noticed him creeping closer; it was surprising what adults did and didn't notice. He looked in, and saw the police officer turning their beds inside out and upside down, and every other way possible. The boy glared at the police officer, but he didn't notice, and continued to rip into their belongings.
I'd like to see how he would handle someone ripping through his things! the boy thought with anger, careful to not use the word 'wish'. It was a forbidden word, in case the genie heard and made it come true. Besides, anything wished for in anger will immediately cause nothing but regret, as his father always said.
The police officer turned around then, and spotted the lamp sitting on the shelf with the others. He walked over, his eyes gleaming. The boy held his breath as the police officer put his hand out to grab a lamp.
Not the genie's lamp, not the genie's lamp, not the genie's lamp, he begged, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.
"Tell me, Saol. What do you call this?" the police officer called out, coming to the caravan doorway.
Ravi's eyes widened in fear, and he squeaked as he dropped to the ground.
"A gold lamp, sir," Saol replied nervously.
"Exactly. Now, tell me again that there's nothing of value in the caravan," the police officer hissed, hitting Saol over the head with the gold lamp.
Saol dropped to the ground, blood seeping from his the dent on his head. The boy's father stood in front of him quickly, covering his eyes.
"My son is an innocent, I would appreciate it if you dispose of your subordinate away from his eyes," he said, his tone hard.
The police officer smirked, looking down at the shiny gold lamp in his possession. "Of course. Deal with him," he ordered someone.
Saol was dragged away from the caravan, his blood staining the ground after him.
Ravi hid his face in his father's shirt until well after the police had left. The boy knew that it wouldn't take long for the police officer to discover the lamp he had just taken from their possession was no more than just a basic brass lamp coloured to look like it was gold. Everyone knew that they had to leave before he returned with more force, so he knew how much trouble he was in when his father stopped to question him.
"Why did you go to the caravan? Do you know what would have happened if they'd noticed you, boy?" his father hissed, dropping to his knees so they were eye to eye.
"I'm sorry, father. I was just worried about the lamp," he replied, sniffling, the image of the fake lamp hitting that man over the head playing in his mind continuously.
"You've never been worried about it before. What's brought this on all of a sudden?" his father asked, lifting him into his arms and heading into the caravan.
Ravi was silent. He knew that his father wouldn't be pleased if he told him about the genie's whispers.
"What if that man had a family? A son, like me?" he asked his father, his voice soft as he stared past the mess in the caravan.
"Let us just hope that the officer does not tell the man's family that we killed him," he replied, trying not to think about that very thing his son had just asked. "Let's clean this up and get out of here."
Say what you wish, the genie's voice murmured.
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End of the first chapter.
Thank you for reading.