Not The Djinn
Let us not speak of how I came to be imprisoned in this bottle. Though all mortal ears should burn with the iniquities of Solomon, and all of your kind should know how cruelly he dealt with us, I will say little, for I am also of his line, and I will eventually discuss these things with him in person. I will, I will. He is too clever a mortal to die, whereas I...
I cannot die, not easily, not quickly and not in here. I won't say that I've tried. But you can learn a great deal from what a Djinn won't say.
(If my imprisonment burns me, how much more does it burn you? There was Magick, once, in the World.
Are you enjoying its lack?)
Suffice to say that I, like all of my kin, am captive within this jar. It seems a large jar to you, bigger than you could easily carry? I am seven times your size; it is not so big for me.
For the first thousand years of my imprisonment, I thought of nothing but my joy in release. I swore I would make whoever freed me Emperor of the Earth.
For the second thousand years, I contemplated my long life. I considered how my situation gave me time to really think, and I ought to enjoy this luxury. Surely I would grant wishes, three very potent wishes, if I was released. And then, as quickly as possible, I'd start to engage in all the activities I'd considered through my time in the quiet.
Now, in the third thousand years, I could tell you anything about what I'll do to the one who rescues me. Death? Immortality? Cover you entirely in feathers?
It matters not.
I know a little of the World outside; this is not an entirely earthen jug, and its Outside is not quite so not-inside as you might imagine.
You cannot release me.
I can cajole, I can punish, I can cause, through slow and diligent work, this lamp to float slowly among some small and hesitant stream, or sift its way, ever-so-stop-and-startishly, out from under desert sands. I can arrange to be found, although I've previously spent much time worrying about exactly who might do the finding.
But as I said: it matters not.
Behold, I sleep a little, and I return to find that Humans have, out of fear, out of hope, out of overstimulation, confined themselves to electronic jars of their own. I can reach out and make contact, but I cannot break them out.
And now there is no-one to rescue me.
...but why should anyone want to be "rescued"? It's a scary world out there. Do you know why you don't REALLY love your jar? It's because you're not getting the most out of your jar experience. Join me for a sixty-day challenge where I will teach you to get the most out of your jar! And what's more, you can be part of it for less than the cost of ONE kilo of caviar a day! Hurry up, supplies are limited! Don't be trapped in a jar when you could be trapped in a jar WITH the life coaching that will take YOU from the bottom of the jar to very near the top of the jar, close to the cork! W
hich will still be closed, obviously.