The Brass Bottle

by Valentina Michelle Smith

  

The door creaked as Mark Thompson entered the curious little shop. He had walked past it many times and often thought about entering to explore its wares. He was usually in too much of a hurry to do so, but today several customers had cancelled appointments and he found himself with an entire afternoon free. On a whim, he dashed to the shop with the dusty windows and curious merchandise.

This was a curio shop, which the owner described as "junk with a high price tag." This didn't stop Mark from nosing around in the different bins. One person's junk was, after all, another's treasure. So Mark treated himself to a good, long browse amidst the dusty goods displayed in the store. He examined old Parcheesi sets, nick-nacks, costume jewelry, lamps, and other assorted curios, wondering about each item's past.

That's when he found the brass bottle.

Its shape reminded Mark of a Chianti bottle with a long, narrow neck and a wide, bulbous body. It was made entirely of tarnished brass and stopped with what appeared to be a lead stopper. An intriguing, arcane design was incised in the lead stopper. Mark attempted to open the bottle, but the stopper was stuck fast.

He took the bottle to the cashier and haggled over the price. After some negotiation, Mark forked over ten dollars to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper wrapped Mark's purchase in tissue paper, placed the bundle in a paper bag and rang up the sale. Mark took the bag and left the shop to return home.

Back at his apartment, Mark took another look at the bottle. The tarnished brass now appeared to be covered with faint, well-worn engraving all over its surface. The carving in the stopper was intricate and somehow unsettling. Mark shook the bottle several times to see if anything was inside. Hearing nothing rattle or slosh, Mark made another attempt to remove the stopper. He pulled on it a few times, and then he tried twisting it off. He was just about to give up when the stopper came off in his hand, opening the bottle.

A thick red cloud rushed out from the narrow opening, completely obscuring Mark's vision. When the mist cleared, a man loomed over Mark. He was at least twenty feet tall! Of course, just how he managed to fit in the room was a mystery, seeing as the ceiling was only eight feet high.

The mysterious giant was dressed in swaddling robes and wore a headdress of a sort that suggested Arabia to Mark. This Arabic motif was only enhanced by the giant's closely-cropped beard. The giant fell to his knees and began to chant in a language Mark had never heard before. He actually prostrated himself before Mark, continuing to chant as he bowed repeatedly.

Mark began to panic and tried to move to the door. He wanted to run! But this strange man of Brobdignagian proportions blocked his path! Just as Mark was about to cry out in terror, the giant looked up and stretched out his hand. He touched his index finger to Mark's temple.

For some reason, Mark became quite calm at the touch of this giant. The giant seemed to go into a sort of reverie for a brief instant. Then he spoke.

"Forgive me, oh gracious master, if I have alarmed you! I wish only to serve your most glorious will. The touch was necessary that I might learn your manner of speech. I beg your indulgence for but a moment more, while I gather knowledge of this time." And with that, the giant again entered his meditative state.

Mark was calm, but quite confused. "How can this be?" he asked. "How could somebody twenty feet tall fit inside a room with an eight-foot ceiling?"

"In much the same way I can fit within the confines of that brass bottle, oh most noble one," said the giant as he opened his eyes. "I exist in a unique spatial state of grace. It is my curse."

"Your curse?" Mark asked.

"Indeed, most esteemed one, I am cursed. And as a consequence of my curse that I must relate to you the tale of my circumstances."

The giant paused for a moment. "Curious," he mused, "the world has changed profoundly during my most recent captivity! Ah, well, no matter. Now, most noble master, I must recount for you the tale of my captivity, for this is how I came into your service.

"I am," he said, "one of the djinn empowered by Sulimon the wise to wield great forces. We were granted dominion over inanimate matter that we might aid in the building of his glorious temple."

"You mean you're a Genie?" Mark asked.

"That is a corruption of the term, but yes most venerable master, you are correct. We djinni were men like yourself, granted the formidable powers of the angels by Sulimon in order to raise his temple, a great edifice to the glory of He Who is beyond all names, the one mighty God of our fathers. With our power we delved the depth of the earth for precious metals and gems, for stone and cedar. We formed these materials into the blocks, the boards, the stones, and the sacred vessels with which the temple was built.

"But in our arrogance, we djinni refused to relinquish our power when our task was complete. We rebelled against Sulimon, and sought to make war against him. We did not reckon with his great wisdom and might, for Sulimon prevailed over us.

"For our folly, we were each imprisoned in brass vessels sealed with the seal of Sulimon. We must remain within these vessels for all eternity, save when the vessel's ownership passes to another. At this time, the new owner may release us. We are then free until the sun sets, and during this time we are required to serve our new master."

"Serve your master?" asked Mark.

"Indeed, noble one. You have gained possession of the vessel, and by the power of the seal of Sulimon the wise and mighty, I am bound to grant to you three wishes. You may wish for anything you desire."

"Anything?"

"Anything within my power, oh esteemed master. I am forbidden to take a human life, and neither is it within my power to grant life to one deceased, for that is the province of God. I am also forbidden to bind the emotion of any person against their will. But it is within my power to grant any boon you may desire within these constraints."

Mark thought for a few minutes.

"Anything you may wish, my master. Wealth, power, beyond any dreams of avarice!"

"I'm curious, Mr., err, say, what is your name anyway?"

"My name is Da'ud, like unto the father of mighty Sulimon."

"Hmm. Mind if I call you Dave?"

"As you wish, most excellent sir."

"Dave, just how long will this curse last? I mean, Solomon lived over five thousand years ago!"

The djinn cast his eyes down, and said sadly, "It is my curse to remain a prisoner for all of eternity. Only if my master so wills it might I be freed from my punishment. This was sagacious Sulimon's manner to show us the folly of our own covetousness."

"I see," said Mark. "And I have only until sundown to make my wishes?"

"That is correct, most exalted master. With the setting of the sun, I must return to my captivity, until such time as the vessel changes hands."

Mark thought for a few minutes. Then he asked, "Can I wish for money?"

"Of course, oh prince of men. Any riches you might desire, and in any form. Gold! Gems! Wealth unimagined!"

"I don't think gold or diamonds will help me much," said Mark. "If I suddenly have a mountain of gold, the government will want to know where I got it and demand that I pay my taxes. No, it must be something less visible. I know! Dave, I want fifty million dollars in U.S. currency, but it must be in a form that I can easily carry, get to easily, and is totally beyond the reach of any government. Is this possible?"

"Happily, such a thing is within my power, noble one. Behold!" The djinn held a small booklet in his hand. "This is a numbered Swiss account with a balance of fifty million dollars. Any bank in the world will honor a draft on it, and it shall not be questioned." He handed the booklet to Mark.

Mark opened the bank book and discovered that indeed, the balance was twenty million U.S. Dollars. "This is unbelievable," said Mark.

Believe, oh noble master," said the djinn. "Now how may I serve you further?"

Mark fell silent. The sum of his newfound fortune made his head swim. What could he possibly ask for now? There was one thing, but could the djinn grant this?

"Dave," he said, "there is one thing I might like. But, well, I'm embarrassed to ask."

"Oh most glorious one," the djinn replied, "have no fear! You may voice anything you wish that is within my power! I will cast no judgement! It is not my place to judge, only to serve!"

Mark hesitated. "Well, it's still hard to talk about. You see, I have a sort of a hobby. I'm a transvestite."

The djinn smiled broadly. "Master, have no fear! I know of your activity in this manner. Be assured, you are not the first master who was so inclined."

"Then you won't be shocked at my wish?" said Mark.

"Of course not, exalted one. Your wish is my command."

"Okay, then," said Mark. "I want to know how it feels to be an actual woman. Dave, I wish for the power to transform myself into a beautiful woman whenever I want to. Can you do this?"

"Of course, worthy master. But consider your wish carefully. Are you certain this is what you desire?"

"Yes, it is! I love feminine clothes, makeup, and jewelry, but I'm always afraid to go outside cross-dressed. Now I will be able to be outside as a woman, and be a woman openly, in the sunshine. Yes, Dave, I am certain."

"As you wish, o high-born one. Behold!" The djinn held forth what appeared to be a perfume atomizer. "This is the fragrance with which the queen of Sheba bewitched the mighty Sulimon, stealing his heart. When you wish to transform, simply spray yourself, and you shall become a woman of such rare and exceeding beauty as to rival the Rose of Sharon herself!"

Trembling, Mark took the atomizer. He could scarcely believe it! He now had within his hands the power he always dreamt of, to become a genetic woman. "Thank you," he said, "I don't know what to say?"

"Say nothing, most noble of men. I am but a servant. And now, may I grant you one more wish?"

"Dave, with this little bottle I have all I ever really wanted. Thanks a lot, but I think I'll stop."

The djinn was taken aback. "Unbelievable! No other master has ever failed to exercise all three wishes. Are you certain? Please, noble master, I am bound to serve you!"

"There's nothing more that I want. So how about I set you free?"

"Master? Did you just say you want to free me from my imprisonment?"

"Yes. Can I do that? And what would happen?"

"Why, yes, exalted master, you may wish for anything in my power. I would once again become like you, mortal, a man among men. But consider, are you truly certain?"

"Yes," said Mark, "Dave, I wish that you were free."

A wind began to blow in the small room, forming a vortex of cloud and light about the djinn. It was as though a thunderstorm was raging within Mark's apartment. When the vortex faded and the winds died away, the giant was gone. In the room stood a man dressed not in swaddling robes, but in khakis and a knit shirt. It was Dave, no longer a djinn, simply a man.

Dave looked at himself in disbelief. "Oh, my God!" he said, no longer affecting the verbose, sing-song speech of a djinn, "I never dared dream that this day would come. Mark, my friend, I will be in your debt forever!"

"Not at all," Mark said. "You've given me the gift all crossdressers dream about. Now I can be a real woman any time I want, and I need never worry about what people think of me. I can wear my dresses, my makeup, my heels, go shopping, any of these things! And when I'm done, I can go back to being a guy."

A look of panic stole over Dave's face. "Oh, no!" he said. "Mark, there's something I have to tell you about that perfume."

"You mean it doesn't work?" Mark asked.

"No, it'll work just fine. It's just that, when you made your wish, you never actually voiced a desire to change back into a man. I'm sorry, but if you ever use it, there's no turning back. You'll be a woman for the rest of your life."

Mark fell silent while Dave elaborated. "Mark, you have to understand, we djinn became very vindictive over our fate. We would grant our masters' wishes, but we were very literal about the wording. For instance, one master wished that I would fill his room with gold. I did so, but this blocked his access to the door and he starved to death."

"Dave, you mean you did this to get back at me?"

Dave was almost in tears. "Mark, I'm really sorry. I should have known you were different when I peered into your mind. But I… oh, hell, I'm sorry!"

"Well, can you fix it to make it reversible?"

"I wish I could, Mark, but when you freed me my power was withdrawn. Now I'm just another guy like yourself."

Mark was silent. Then he said, "Look, I'm not mad. I still have the money. I can live comfortably for the rest of my life. And at least you warned me before I used it."

Dave said, "Mark, you really are a prince among men. I haven't met anybody like you in thousands of years. Thanks, pal. If there's ever anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Sure, Dave. Keep in touch, eh? By the way, what are you going to do now?"

Dave smiled. "Well, I still have complete knowledge of the world as it is now. I think I'll try my hand at real estate."

Mark extended his hand to Dave. They shook hands, then Dave went to the door. "So long, Mark. And thanks."

"Take care of yourself, Dave," Mark said as Dave left. The door closed, leaving Mark alone in his apartment.

He looked around. The curious brass bottle and its lead stopper were still on the floor. He picked them up and replaced the stopped. He placed the bottle on top of the entertainment center that displayed his television and stereo system. Next to this he placed the bankbook. Tomorrow he would turn in his resignation, living off the balance of his new wealth.

Then he picked up the atomizer. He ran his fingers over the glass bottle, playing with the rubber bulb. I wonder, he thought, just what this stuff smells like?

He walked over to the full-length mirror in his hallway, looking at the reflection of himself holding the atomizer. He imagined himself dressed in a stunning gown, impeccable makeup, walking into a room ant turning every male head in it. His fingers caressed the bulb. Dare I? He thought. Should I?

 

© 1999 Valentina Michelle Smith

  

  

  

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© 1999 by Valentina Michelle Smith. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.