The setting sun did not give up its vigor and continued to sip on the failing strength of the fisherman who was all but a bag of bones, fighting the disappointment that life hurled his way day in, day out. The net that he had cast in the water for the fourth time reflected the fisherman’s swollen deflated spirit.
This time it was not a matter of minutes before the net bounced up and down with excitement. Minutes shoved after minutes with a sulking weight of despair, but the blue waters remained calm as the sky that only silently speculated everything and turned a blind eye to the unfairness the sea committed against the fisherman.
After countless beats of waiting, the net pushed down with a weight of something, most expectantly carcass or rubbish with another round of sharp pain. The fisherman pulled again, this time carefully bottling his expectations and jubilant feelings so that another mock would pinch to be slightly less bitter.
A yellow something winked from the holes in the net. The fisherman could have assumed this to be a yellow fish but the yellow object showed no struggle, as would a yellow finned fish. After all, the last few seconds before the breath left the soul were always precious. Would not a fish flip around every angle to try to get a hold of what little dear life had to offer? But this catch was a lifeless, stationery object with no sign of breaths.
The yellow glittered a bit as the sun rays kissed its surface when it emerged from the water and within a heartbeat, the fisherman could feel his curiosity simmer to know of what this lamp shaped thing really was.
Without further ado, the fisherman hastily cleaned the yellow-golden lamp to reveal a polished surface underneath the seaweeds sticking politely to the lamp’s muggy water bathed body. But just as the fisherman rubbed clean its surface, a slow vibration rumbled in the belly of the lamp until it shook the fisherman who let the lamp jump out of his grasp.
For a few heartbeats, the fisherman felt that the lamp had a life of its own, as it bounced out of his hand and continued to shake violently on the floor. A thin film of smoke seemed to leak from the protruding mouth of the lamp until a large geyser of smoke started escaping from it.
The fisherman was taken aback, astounded by the amount of smoke trapped in the lamp. As he concentrated on the smoky shower erupting impatiently from the small opening of the mouth, a shape started materializing within the curtain of smoke, and a mighty voice boomed, “You have all but one wish, milord, how do you wish to die?” A jinni stood in front of the fisherman with strong arms crossed across his chest and eyebrows knitted in an angry expression.
