A real Djinn can be indistinguishable between you and me, not like the one portrayed in Aladdin. You do not need to rub a lamp for it to appear. In some cultures, they believe that these *beings* have free will and they certainly do not have to be benevolent.

*He* was a friend, the only type of friend a guy who spends all his time drinking down the pub can have. The man on the bar-stool next to me, knocking back shots as fast as I did.

When my daughter died, anger consumed me. Her car was found at the bottom of a canyon. The police report said there was no sign of collision on what was left of the car – the verdict was suicide. I didn’t believe that. My little girl was not depressed, she was the only family that still visited me, she was my rock.

“I just want to know what happened to her,” I said to the man next to me.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, downing a shot of neat vodka.

Bright light hurt, I turned and shielded my eyes. The light flashed as the car sped towards me. I froze and winced. The tyres shrieked as vehicle veered to the left to avoid me. Time seemed to slow, I briefly clocked the terrified face of the woman driver. The car left the road, rising slowly before plunging into the ravine below.

I gasped.

“Be careful what you wish for,” the man said staring at me, before slamming the shot glass onto the bar, “Barkeep, hit me again and one for my friend here.”

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