Amelia Woodworth. A woman of wealth which was reflected in her expensive beauty. Replicated in the art she created and collected. In many ways, she could be considered art herself. Just that, in Rosalie’s opinion, she also was a perfect example of a beautiful shell rotten core. Right now, she was beaming with pride at her art exhibition. As always, everything was ready on point, just the last few things needed to be controlled and checked for the gallery’s premiere the next day.
That the preparations had worked so smoothly and on time was nothing unusual, and according to the flyer, it had nothing to do with Rosalie. Not at all. Not in the credits, not in a statement anywhere, die Amelia thank her assistant for her work.
“Maybe your name got lost, Lena, or the editor made a mistake. What do I know?”, Amelia said, rearranging some flyers on the foyer’s tables. “Please don’t make a problem out of it, you’re still getting paid.”
“You wouldn’t even have the Djinn if it wasn’t for me”, Rosalie argued and pointed at the flower that showed the main attraction on the cover: the painting titled Djinn. The origin unknown, no signed name anywhere, oils that couldn’t be traced – it was a mystery. Though the most mesmerizing mystery in existence. To look at it was captivating, as if the blue and golden colours pulled you into a different world. And most importantly, it wouldn’t be shown at Amelia’s exhibition if it hadn’t been for Rosalie.
“Let’s check the audio for the premiere before we go, okay? And I’ll make sure to mention you at the opening tomorrow if that will be satisfying for your ego.” A cold smile graced Amelia’s lips and made it even harder for Rosalie to not explode out of anger. How desperately she wanted to speak up. Her ego? Hers? All she managed was to smile back.
“Great. So go into room four and tell me if the text is good to understand. Just text me if something comes up.”
Rosalie didn’t even nod, she just turned towards room four and walked. What else could she have done anyway? That job paid the bills. She was an artist’s assistant and since she got paid she shouldn’t be so hungry for credit. Even if it wasn’t just any text, it was the text she had written.
At such a late hour, it felt wrong to be at the gallery. Her steps were too loud in those dark halls. The strange feeling of being at the wrong place at the wrong time crept over her. There was supposed to be silent chatter, distant laughter. But there were only her steps.
Reaching room four, she texted Amelia to press play.
“I deserve to be credited”, she mumbled. Amelia pressed play, the text sounded over the speakers. The text she wrote. She had worked on it for two weeks.
The Djinn’s painting was right in front of her. Being so close to it, nearly let her forget the feeling of loneliness. As if it had a presence just like a human. The introduction finished to play and the actual bit started. Something that makes people think, Amelia had ordered. So Rosalie had created a silent dialogue between the Djinn and the viewers.
“I am the Djinn. Are you ready to commit to this contract?”, a deep voice echoed from the halls. They had managed to get a prominent actor to speak the part but it had cost them a ton.
“Oh, I am”, Rosalie answered softly. Ignoring her own instructions to answer the questions internally.
“Then you will be granted three wishes. There are no limits to your desires. Search deep down in your soul for what you need. What you long for. Proceed and tell me your most secret wish, tell me...”
As she looked up, it appeared as if the Djinn was staring right back at her. A shiver ran down her spine. What was she actually wishing for? A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I want to be somewhere else. I want to leave this place. To go very far away where no one knows me. Somewhere pretty. Like you.” Her voice was trembling and her hands shaking as she wiped away her tears. The sudden warmth and light forced her eyes open.
She was standing on a green field and stared right in definitely not humanly green eyes of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
“Who are you?”, the woman gnarled and Rosalie could feel a dagger at her throat.
“It’s uh – It’s Rose. Just Rose.”
The woman raised an eyebrow and a knowing smile ran over her lips.
“Well, would you like to accompany me to my tent then, Rose?”, the woman asked.
Looking around, Rosalie now realized they were in the middle of what looked like a military camp, which would make sense considering the woman’s clothes that resembled much more armour.
“And? Pretty and strange enough? You do know I like to be flattered, I can’t help it”, a gentle voice giggled to Rosalie’s left and nearly made her jump. With hair so black it was nearly blue and golden eyes that penetrated her very soul, she instantly knew who the stranger was.
“Impossible? Please. You knew there were no limits. Nothing is impossible”, the djinn laughed and just disappeared right there again.
“What do you mean, it’s impossible?”, the woman wondered and got even more weary.
“Oh, I was talking to the dj- the man right there.”
“Was it a ghost?”
“A ghost? No. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“Because there was no man, of course. So it has to have been a ghost.”
Despite the warmth, Rosalie felt how she got cold.
“You got me, it was a ghost”, she stuttered and tried to focus on the tent they now entered. “Why are there so many tents, but no one is out during day? Are they all gone?”
“Day? You really must be from far away.”
She didn’t know what she expected the tent to look like from the inside, but there were a lot of gems, a lot of gold and every single item was beautifully crafted. Especially the crown that laid on the table in a corner.
“So. I want to know where you’re from, Rose. No lies this time. I want to know all about you and I suggest you talk fast because there is nothing at all holding me back from killing you right now, right here.”
The woman’s silver dagger was pointed at Rosalie’s throat once again and the sparks in her eyes made it clear how sincere and determined she was.
“Well, since I am dreaming, what does it even matter?”, she replied and the smile on the woman’s face got distorted by anger.
“I can promise you that this is not a dream. You are wide awake. So this is the last time I am asking you who you are and how you got in the centre of my camp.”
“Sounds just like what a person in a dream would say, to be honest.”
A sharp pain ran through her stomach and as she looked down, she spotted the woman’s dagger, stuck in her body.
Her legs gave in and at once she collapsed on the floor. Golden eyes laughed at her.
“Is this real for you yet?”, the djinn giggled and his icy fingers wandered over her cheek. Everything went black.
