By Hazem Ibrahim
I couldn't believe my eyes when the story began. We have always considered jinn talk to be nothing more than legends told in cafes or decorated by some sheikhs in their nightly sessions. But I, Amjad, a simple neighbourhood boy who only knew the smell of fabrics in the markets and the sound of bidding for second-hand clothes, found myself in a moment where there was no escape, and I became a prisoner of another dark world, with no sun or day, governed by laws I never dreamed I would ever know. At first, I thought the strangeness would end with Uncle Idris, the mysterious old man who rented the house next to ours, opening his door by day to receive treatment, and closing it at night to hide unexplained sounds inside. I would hear laughter, celebrations and mysterious crowds, as if endless weddings were taking place behind those walls, and then in the morning the place would turn as still as a grave, with no smoke, no people and no movement.
Whenever I thought of opening his door, it was as if a shackle was holding me back, until that night that turned my life upside down when Hizana opened the door for me. Little did I know that those green eyes that entwined my soul with a single glance would lead me into an eternal and inescapable night. Since she kidnapped me into her worlds, I feel like I am no longer fully human. It is true that I breathe and walk among humans, but my insides live suspended between two worlds, my waking for humans and my napping for elves, every whisper, every reflection of a shadow in a dark corner I see with another eye, an eye that is no longer innocent.
When I first fell into their world, in that sprawling white square under the light of a moon not like ours, I felt something take away all the certainty I had built up all my life. I was like a drowning man being pulled into the depths of the ocean, not knowing whether to die or be reborn. What made the horror of the experience all the more bearable was the certainty that it was neither a dream nor a fantasy; everything I touched there was heavier and more real than the world I left behind.
Hayzana, the daughter of King Ankoud, was not just a charming fairy like in children's stories. She was strong, intelligent, her eyes hid a thousand secrets, and her voice alternated between the tenderness of a woman and the firmness of a queen, not knowing the middle ground. The first time she led me through the tents to the big fire around which the fairies were gathered in chilling shapes. I remember the three-headed giant, before whom I bowed my head for fear that he would squeeze me in his hands like a walnut. I remember the dwarf who crawled on all fours, with eyes the size of two embers, smiling a smile that held nothing of humanity but mockery. They hovered around me as if I were a stranger waiting, as if fate had written my name hundreds of years ago to be among them.
When the king announced that I would be the husband of Hazana, I couldn't believe my ears. I, who was no longer fit for a simple life with a human girl, was suddenly part of a lineage, legends and laws that no one in my world knew. I wanted to scream, to object, but inside I was helpless against the power of their magic. I was like an enchanted prisoner unable to say no.
The hardest moment for me was the night of the hunt. We rode those strange beasts that combined the shape of a camel with the voice of a beast and the eyes of a bird of prey. I still remember the feel of their coarse fur glowing under the moon. Their wind touched my chest and almost took my soul, and they didn't let me catch my breath until they surrounded us among the beasts they called leeches. Their heads were flattened, their mouths bleeding, and their bodies writhing like snakes with legs attached. I saw one of them pounce on one of their guards, tearing him in half before the swords glinted and tore him apart. I was dead standing among them, breathing as if I was borrowing air from another life. That night left a wound in my heart that never healed.
But what is unbearable is that despite all this, I began to change. Little by little, my fear turned into curiosity, and then into a strange savour. Every move I learnt in their world opened a window to a power I didn't recognise in myself. It was like tasting a poisoned fruit that you know is fatal, yet you are addicted to the taste of it. I learnt the secrets of incense, how in their world it turns into food that nourishes them, and how every smell that humans release in their homes reaches the jinn and becomes a blessing or a curse. I learnt that the words of spells are not just talismans but keys to small doors, each of which opens to a miniature world, with untold spirits and secrets.
When the king sealed my palm with the elven brand, I felt like I had lost my last link to my world. It is true that I returned to wake up in the morning in Idris's house, the voices of vendors and old people rising in the neighbourhood, but I knew that the branding was burning me internally and that I no longer glorified the former. Hizana would visit me at night, coming close to me until I could feel her breath mixing with mine, whispering her instructions to me, laughing as if she knew I had no choice. She would say: You are not our slave, Amjad, you are one of us now. I couldn't argue with her, because I already felt like I was sandwiched between two branches, neither fully human nor fully faerie.
The forty days passed like an elongated dream, in which the night returns and the scene repeats in my memory: The sound of drums, the cries of the creatures, the king's sessions with his wise men, and Hazanah, who surrounded me like a bracelet of fire and gold. I learnt how to read faces, even if they disappeared in the darkness, and how to hear the hidden secrets that no human could hear. But every step of learning took away another part of my humanity. I was afraid of losing myself completely.
When the final day came, I was brought back to our world, or so I thought. But I was no longer the same: In my hands were the books Idris had hidden for me, the secrets of magic and its ways, and on my lips were words I had never dared to utter before. My life in the market was over, the clothes of the world meant nothing to me. I found myself practising what Idris was practising: I read talismans, untied bindings, helped poor women with their nightmares, and sometimes, in a hushed voice, talked to the jinn as if they were my relatives. At night, I often heard Hizana calling to me from the shadows, as if she was no longer just a wife from another world, but a shadow walking between her world and the human world.
Today, years later, I don't know exactly what I am. I am no longer the son of the market, no longer a mere passerby in the world of humans. I am Amjad, who has become between worlds, bearing a mark that only the jinn can see, bound to an inseparable destiny. When I look in the mirror, sometimes I see my eyes as I knew them, and sometimes I see a strange sparkle that resembles the sparkle of Hazanah. And maybe... maybe I'm not really me anymore.
I am writing this story now as I feel it, not as a memory but as a confession. And maybe as a warning. Because I realised that most people think that jinns only inhabit the night, behind walls or in graveyards, but the truth is simpler and harsher: They live with us, among us, walking beside us, waiting for one moment of brokenness, one moment of curiosity, to snatch you into their worlds without return. I can attest to that.
English 
Arabic
شوقتنا فاشتقنا للزواج من عالم غير عالمنا
احيي خيالك الخصب
وانتظر بشوق مقالك القادم✋✋