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.
“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.”