An ordinary name, and it fits, because I'm an ordinary guy.
I'm fifty-seven, short, and not particularly well-built; I have thinning hair, a weak chin, and ears that kind of stick out. I'm not exactly ugly; I just have the kind of face you don't remember two minutes after you see it.
I'm a corporate accountant, which is every bit as dull as it sounds. I drive a twelve-year-old Toyota, and I live in a small one-bedroom apartment. I have no close friends, no brothers or sisters, and my parents have long since passed away. I'm pretty much alone in the world.
It will come as no surprise that I have no girlfriend, either. Whatever it is that gets women to fall in love with you - or even show some interest - I just don't have it. I've never had a "relationship," and I stopped dating thirty years ago. Not worth the disappointment.
One thing about living simply and not dating, though; when you're good at what you do, you can accumulate a lot of money, and I've done just that. I realize that would pique some women's interest - but then I'm not interested in that kind of woman.
Anyway, I can do pretty much what I want, even if I have to do it alone. So when my vacation time came around last year, I decided to take a couple of extra weeks off and go on a month-long cruise around the Mediterranean.
I had no illusions about "finding love" on this cruise. I had been on cruises before, and I knew I would be the Invisible Man again, just like I always am. Women's eyes slide past me like I'm made of air. That's okay; I like cruises anyway. I like the service, the exotic sights, and the time to relax.
But things happen that you never planned for. Things that you couldn't even have imagined...
---
We were halfway through the cruise; the ship had gone up and down the Italian coast, stopped at various ports in mainland Greece and the Greek islands, and was steaming toward Crete.
I was standing at the rail of the lowermost deck, at maybe nine o'clock in the morning, gazing out at a misty-looking island a few hundred yards from the ship. I was puzzled by its appearance; the day was clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky - but the island had a strangely cloudy look to it, as if it wouldn't quite come into focus or was shrouded by a light mist. It made no sense.
There was a young couple standing near me, and I thought they were looking at the island too; but just as I was about to ask what they thought of its strange appearance, the woman said, "Look at that, Paul; no land in sight. Nothing but ocean. Just sky and sea."
I blinked, and I looked from them to the island and back again. No land in sight?
Again I opened my mouth to speak, but at that instant there was a cry from nearby:
"FIRE!"
Everyone, including me, swiveled to look. Some idiot had let his cigarette fall into a trash can, and the flames were leaping three feet high. Some crew members were running up with fire extinguishers.
Like I said, I'm short; and as the crowd grew thicker, I decided to stand on a deck chair to see better. The crew members were spraying the flames with clouds of white powder and -
And somebody bumped me, and I lost my balance and fell over the side.
Now I'm no athlete, but I am a pretty good swimmer. I turned my fall into a very nice dive, if I do say so. I hit the water cleanly, and I came up expecting to see people looking over the side at me and pointing and yelling. Maybe now I'll be noticed, I thought. I was kind of proud of that dive.
No such luck. No one was looking at me at all. Apparently the fire still held everyone's attention. I yelled for a minute or two; nothing.
The ship was leaving me behind, and it was clear that no one had noticed there was a man overboard.
There was nothing for it but to swim for the island. I struck out for it, and fortunately the wind and currents were with me.
It took me maybe thirty minutes to get to shore, anyway. I lay on the beach for a while, tired and winded, but not totally exhausted.
After a bit, I got up and started walking. Might as well see where I am, I thought.
I was wearing swim trunks and a polo shirt; I had been wearing sandals, but they were long gone. That was it. No pockets, nothing. I was trying not to panic. The island was obviously in the shipping lanes, and I would be rescued soon, I told myself.
I tried not to think about the fact that that young couple couldn't see it.
The island was bigger than it looked; it was maybe sixty or seventy acres, about a third of a mile long by a quarter-mile wide. There was no hint of mistiness about it now. The sand was white and warm, and the foliage green and lush, surrounding a rocky outcrop that rose to a height of no more than fifty or sixty feet.
I walked around to the other side of the island. The beach curved inward there, forming a lovely lagoon. A trickle of water that ran from the brush made my heart race; I ran to it, knelt, and tasted. Fresh.
There was a spring, then. Good; I wouldn't die of thirst. I had been more worried about that than I had let myself think about.
I decided to explore inland, not that there was that much "inland" to explore. I looked up; the little stream fell in a tiny waterfall at the edge of the small forest, pouring from a crack in a high, white rock.
When I got there, I looked again at the rock - and I blinked. That was no crack. That tiny trickle of water had cut a channel in the stone that looked to be three feet deep.
I climbed up and followed the running water. The stream was no wider than my hand, but it ran in a straight, distinct channel through the trees. I knelt and looked closer; though they were heavily overgrown with green moss, the channel was lined with stones. Stones that had been carefully placed.
I looked upstream again as I knelt. Through the foliage that overhung the thread of water, I saw a glimpse of snowy white. When I pulled the branches back, I wondered if I were dreaming.
I was looking at a tiny Greek temple, built of white marble. Four columns in front, six down each side. It was perfect.
And, I realized, it was new.
That made no sense. But there it was - the stone as white and the corners and edges as sharp as if it had been built that morning.
I looked around. The temple stood on an outcrop of rock that had been flattened to serve as its foundation. It was surrounded by a perfectly trimmed lawn -
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
There was a circle around the temple, as distinct as if it had been drawn with a compass. Within that circle, the grass was a deep green, a perfect inch-and-a-half long and as thick and lush as a carpet. Outside the circle, the grass - where there was any - was sparse and dry on the thin soil, more gray than green.
With some hesitation, I stepped into the circle, the thick grass soft on my bare feet. My senses were on high alert, but I heard and felt nothing. Wind and water. Nothing more.
I climbed up the steps. The miniature temple was in an archaic style - very plain, with no carvings or writing of any kind. The pediment was low, and I had to duck my head slightly to enter.
The tiny room was no more than eight by twelve feet, and contained nothing but a plain block of white marble, waist-high - and on top of it -
I blinked. Resting on the polished white surface was a rough stone jar, an irregularly cylindrical urn that was stained and scarred with age. The top was sealed with a stone plug, held in place by some gummy black substance. I had never seen "pitch" before, but I supposed that this was what it looked like.
It seemed wildly out of place. The rest of the temple looked brand-new; this jar looked OLD.
Of course, I wondered: What's inside that thing?
---
I didn't open it then. This place was too weird, and I had read too many stories about mysterious containers that held curses and the like. Pandora's Box came to mind - and I knew that in the original myth, Pandora had opened a JAR. I didn't touch it.
I took shelter in the temple, though. It seemed peaceful, and safe. I found that the fruit I picked in the forest stayed fresh when I stored it inside.
And there was plenty of that. Behind the temple, there was a grove of fig and olive trees, and plums and cherries and pomegranates and some other fruits I'd never seen before. I wondered why the trees were all bearing fruit at the same time - and why it never fell to the ground, and was all perfectly ripe and stayed that way.
I laid wood for a bonfire at the top of the rocky hill at the center of the island - and when I saw another cruise ship, I lit it.
The flames were twice as high as my head; but the smoke seemed to vanish before it rose very high, and there was no sign from the ship. It sailed past without slowing down.
I didn't bother to prepare another bonfire.
I had my own small fire, which I kept burning on the stone platform in front of the temple. It never quite went out, even when I forgot to replenish it. There I roasted the fish I caught and some of the fruit, and some root vegetables I found, and I dined reasonably well.
After a couple of months, between the climbing and walking and swimming, I was in better shape than I'd ever been in my life. I was growing tanned and lean and strong. I felt good - better than I'd ever felt.
And the fruit on the trees stayed ripe and ready to eat. After a while, I stopped thinking about it.
---
I guess I had been on the island for three or four months when I finally opened the jar. I knew I would, sooner or later - and whatever weirdness was wrapped around this place, it didn't feel evil.
I found a sharp flint and went into the temple. I must have stood there, staring at that ancient-looking jar, for ten or fifteen minutes. Finally, I reached out and picked it up.
It was warm to the touch, and oddly heavy, as if it were filled with lead. I had brought the flint to chip away the hardened pitch - but I didn't need it. It was still soft, as if the jar had been sealed an hour before.
I looked at the thing, and then, before I chickened out, I pulled at the stone plug. It came out easily -
I don't know what I expected, but what happened then wasn't it.
Light came out of the jar. Not beams or flashes of light, but light made solid. It curled and spiraled and turned in the air, like smoke - but it wasn't smoke. It was gold and white and moonlight-silver, with streaks and gleams of red and green and blue and purple.
I replaced the jar and its plug on the marble block as the light began to draw into itself, growing more and more dense and solid over the stone. The shimmering light began to resolve itself into a shape, a form, a human form -
And suddenly there was a girl there, kneeling on the marble with her feet tucked beneath her. She wore a simple white tunic that left her pale, lovely legs and arms bare. She looked at me with deep-violet eyes that held a trace of fear.
She was by far the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
"How may I serve you, Master?" she asked.
---
When I came to, she was kneeling over me, shaking my shoulders gently. "Master," she kept whispering. "Master, please..."
I sat up and looked at her. My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
Her violet eyes were huge and beautiful, with long, dark lashes - and they were filled with tears. "Please do not punish me, Master," she quavered in a tiny child's voice. "I meant no harm...." Her chin trembled. There was a small, charming cleft in it. I marveled at how stunningly beautiful she was.
"Why would I punish you? I just - fainted, I guess...". She looked at me hopefully, and I smiled at her.
She smiled back - and it was like the sun coming out.
I frankly stared at her. I had never seen a woman so lovely. She looked to be no more than sixteen, with a perfect heart-shaped face that any woman on earth would give her soul to wear; eyes like violet oceans, full, sweet lips as pink as summer roses, a small, straight nose, soft, blushing cheeks, and skin as smooth and white as fresh cream.
She lifted a small, perfect hand and touched my own face. "Are you a goddess?" I asked.
She looked at me wide-eyed - and then she laughed, a sound like golden bells. "No, Master, I am not a goddess. I am your slave!"
And then it hit me. I know that you, reading this, knew already, but for some reason I only figured it out at that moment. "Are you a genie?"
Her face grew solemn again. "A djinn," she said. "Yes. I am. I was not always so. But I was made so, and so I must remain." She looked at me curiously. "May I ask questions, Master?"
"You may," I said. My head was spinning. I had a few questions of my own.
"What language is this? It is strange in my mouth."
"It's called English," I said. "How can you speak it if you don't know what it is?"
"I speak the tongue of my Master, no matter what it is," she said. "How can I serve if I cannot understand?"
"Okay..."
I was completely at a loss. I had no idea what to say or do next. Fortunately, she had more questions.
"How long has it been?" she asked.
"Since...?"
She gestured at the jar. "Since I was last sealed inside."
"Don't you know?"
"No. I sleep, inside the jar. Once I was sealed in for two hundred years. I never know."
I thought of something. "Do you remember this place?"
She looked out the door or the temple and smiled like the summer sun. "Yes," she said. "This is the island of Pelos. This is the temple that Odussos, my last master, had me build here." She smiled again. "He had me place an enchantment on the island, to make it a paradise - and impossible to find."
"It's still working," I said. Then I got up - but as I rose, I knocked the ancient jar from the block. I tried to catch it, but it fell to the marble floor where it bounced and rang like steel.
"Don't worry. It is very hard to break," she said sadly.
I put the jar back on the stone and looked at her. There was something odd about the way she said that -
I shook it off. "Come with me," I said. She stood to follow me, and I was surprised again. She was no more than five feet tall.
I led her through the forest, following the little stream. "Did you make this stream?" I asked.
"Yes. There was a spring in the meadow where the fruit trees are, and I made this - channel?" I nodded. "I made this channel and lined it with stones."
As we walked, I watched her. She was a stunning beauty in every way; her pale skin was flawless, her dark, shining hair falling to her shoulders in soft waves. Beneath her short robe, I saw the hint of full, heavy, but firm breasts, broad but graceful hips, and a generous, sweetly rounded bottom. Her waist was narrow, her tunic cinched by a plain leather belt. Her legs were perfect, and her small, pretty feet were protected by simple sandals.
She really did look like a goddess - and moved like one, too. Her every movement was filled with subtle grace.
"There is a little waterfall ahead," she said, "where the stream falls over a rock -"
We had reached the place. Her eyes widened as she stared at the yard-deep cleft in the stone that the little stream had cut. She looked at me, confused. "This is not how it was," she said.
"How deep was that channel when you made this waterfall?" I asked.
She held up her pretty finger and thumb, an inch apart. "Just to make it flow prettily," she breathed. "It had a little spout, to give the water an arch."
The rock was limestone. That stone is relatively soft, but for that tiny trickle to cut through three feet of it would still take many centuries.
"May I fix it?" she asked. I nodded, puzzled. She climbed down in a few quick, pretty movements and stood before the stone. And then, to my astonishment, she slid one small hand up the face of it - and the trickle of water followed her hand up.
She had sealed the crack in the stone as if it had been made of modeling clay. At the edge of the rock, she deftly pinched a small lip into the edge of the stone, and the stream arched from the rock and splashed into a small depression at its foot that I hadn't noticed. She knelt and lovingly shaped that too, quickly smoothing the white stone into a bowl-shaped hollow.
"There," she said, and stood. She smiled up at me, and I felt my heart stop. So beautiful....
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Helen."
I thought - and I felt a thrill go up my spine. "You said your last master was named Odussos?"
"Yes. We lived here together for - ten years, perhaps. When he sealed me back in my jar, he said he would return. That he had to go to his home and settle some matters there." She smiled sadly. "I suppose he never came back."
My wheels were turning. "Where was his home?"
"A place called Ithaka."
I stared at her. "How did he become your Master?"
"He stole my jar from Paros of Troy, who stole it from Agamemnon King before that. They fought a war over me."
"You were Helen of Troy," I said softly, staring at her in wonder.
"Yes. They called me that."
"They say you were the most beautiful woman who ever lived."
She shrugged. "I am," she said simply.
I just stared at her. "For that, and immortality, I traded my freedom," she explained.
Then she looked at me curiously again. "You know of Troy and the war over me?"
"I know parts of it."
She cocked her head questioningly. "Then - how long has it been?"
I watched her face. "Almost three thousand years."
Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes snapped open wide as she gasped.
After a moment, she closed her eyes and seemed to turn within herself for a minute or more. I said nothing; I watched only.
With her eyes still closed, she whispered: "The world has changed - and there are no more like me. I can feel it."
---
We went back to the temple, where we sat and talked for hours. I finally pieced together her story:
Helen had been born in the Fertile Crescent - that band of rich soil between the rivers Tigris and Euphrates in what is today Iraq - at the very beginning of civilization. When she was a mortal girl, writing was unknown, and agriculture was a new invention. People had just begun to keep wild goats for meat and milk and hides, and had begun to settle in communities instead of wandering in search of the food they could now raise.
Helen was more than twelve thousand years old.
There were wizards then, too; real ones, who manipulated powers that are no longer even known to exist, let alone understood. They were not quite human, she thought. No one had been sure, even then.
Helen had been a young shepherd girl, noted for her striking loveliness and grace; and the oldest and most powerful of the wizards, an aged, ugly creature, had offered her a bargain.
In exchange for becoming his lover, he would give her immortality - and make her the most beautiful woman in the world, then and for all time.
"I was vain," she said sadly. "Being beautiful was more important to me than long life. I said yes."
Then she frowned. "He kept his word; but it was a cheat, all the same. He did not change how I looked at all - and the djinn are immortal, but we are slaves."
And then, remembering, she smiled and continued her story. The wizard's plan had backfired. He put so much of his power, his magic, or whatever it was, into Helen that there was none left for himself - and he died.
No human had ever been changed into a djinn before her, and none since. Helen was unique, and her nature - and her powers - were not the same as the others of her kind.
"The djinn are evil," she said. "They can be controlled, but it is difficult. They are sly and crafty, and not to be trusted. I am none of those things."
She went on: "The djinn have no feelings, no emotions. They cannot love or hate, be happy or sad. When I was changed, I kept my feelings - though no one pays much attention to them." She looked down, not meeting my eyes. "There are other differences, as well."
I noticed that she was growing more comfortable with English. "Have your masters not cared for you?"
"Some have," she said softly. "More have been cruel. When they discover I can feel pain, and can heal without scarring - "
She looked at her lap, and a tear fell onto her restless hands. "They tortured me," she breathed, "sometimes for years..."
"Forget all that," I said, and she looked up quickly. There was a look of wild hope on her beautiful face.
"Master - is that a command?"
I looked at her, and I understood.
"Yes," I said.
She came close to me so quickly I hardly saw her move, and she hugged me in gratitude, trembling; it was like being embraced by God.
Then she closed her eyes, gave a deep sigh - and when she opened them again, her smile seemed somehow more open, less fearful.
She blinked. "What were we talking about?"
I smiled. "We were talking about your powers, and how they differ from those of other djinn," I said.
She shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, yes," she said.
My stomach rumbled. "Are you hungry?" asked Helen. "I can provide whatever food you wish."
I blinked at her. "Uh - okay. How about a Pizza Hut thin-crust meat lover's pizza with extra cheese?"
She picked up the flat red box beside her on the steps and opened it. There it was, just as I ordered it - and steaming-hot.
There were no pyrotechnics, no flashes of light or puffs of smoke; it was just there, where it hadn't been an instant before. "Does it please you?" she asked.
I was already stuffing my face. I had had nothing to eat but fruit and fish for months. "Mmglmph," I said, nodding, and she giggled. It was a silvery sound. "Two Cokes," I said around the pizza, "with crushed ice."
She held them out to me. "No, one of them is for you," I said. "Here, have some pizza too."
She looked at me oddly. "Master, djinn need no food or drink."
I grinned at her. "Can you eat it, and enjoy it, if I tell you to?"
Her amazing eyes widened. "Oh, Master - do you mean it? I have not tasted food in so long - when I was awake, I mean. Even Odussos never thought of it. And he was a good Master."
I pointed at the box and the cup. "Eat, Helen," I said. "Drink. And savor it. Enjoy it. Love it. I want you to be happy."
Watching me, she took a bite and began to chew - and then her eyes opened wide, and she took another.
"Mmglmph," she said, then giggled with her mouth full. She swallowed. "It's good. Oh, it's so good - " She took another bite.
"Don't forget the Coke," I said.
"Mm." She took a sip and smiled - then spit it out, shocked. "It's alive!" she gasped.
I laughed. "No, it's just fizzy. It has bubbles. Like some spring water. It won't hurt you - it just makes you burp."
"Oh." She took another sip. "It's sweet."
I took another slice of pizza. Helen had a smear of tomato sauce on her perfect cheek. It was somehow endearing. She took another sip of Coke - and then, sure enough, she burped.
The look of innocent surprise on her beautiful face was priceless.
It was strange; I had not yet grasped the idea that this stunningly lovely, perfect creature was my slave. I was too busy falling in love.
---
After the pizza, I ordered hot-fudge sundaes, which she adored, and then some coffee, which she didn't so much. Helen was sipping at her second Coke and looking at me. Her expression was unreadable. "What?" I asked.
"You are not like my other masters," she said. "You treat me like I am a real woman."
"Like you have feelings?" She nodded, her eyes on my face. "Don't you?"
She blinked, confused. "Yes - but - but they do not matter. My only function is to please you."
"What if it pleases me to see you happy?"
She looked at me as if I had turned green. Her incredible face wore a charming, heartbreaking look of puzzlement as she struggled with the concept.
"But my other masters - they just wanted to - " I saw her mouth working as it wound itself around the word. "They just wanted to fuck me. And watch other men fuck me. And have me suck them. And - and other things. With animals. And things that hurt - " She looked even more puzzled. "I can't remember - "
I said nothing. I didn't want her to remember that she ever could.
"I guess twelve thousand years is a long time not to matter," I said.
Helen gazed at me. Her face - that astonishing face - was as blank as a child's.
After a moment, she shook her head again, clearing it, and said, "This is not what I am for. This is not why I exist." She set her jaw prettily and asked sternly, "Master, what do you want me to do for YOU?"
There were a million things I wanted, but as I gazed at her face - that perfect, hauntingly beautiful face - they all came down to only one.
"Love me, Helen," I said.
Her sweet mouth fell open.
"Please me because you want me to be happy," I said, "not because you have to obey me. Care about me, like me, need me, be glad that I care about you. Let me love you and make you happy - and love me in return."
She sat there with her mouth still open, the smear of tomato sauce still on her cheek. I wiped it off with my finger. "Can you do all that?"
She blinked, still uncomprehending. "Do you not want to - make love to me? To have me dance for you and sing to you and give you pleasure?"
I noted the change of verb. "Of course," I said. "But because you love me and you want to.." She blinked again, her face blank.
"Listen to me, Helen," I said. "I will never hurt you. I will never command you to do anything you don't want to do. I will love you and cherish you as the precious gift that you are. And I will never, ever, seal you back inside that jar."
I went on: "I love you, Helen. How can I not? You're the most beautiful woman who ever was - but it's more than that. Even after all you've been through, for so very long, your heart is gentle and pure. You are sweet and kind as well as beautiful. You deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy."
I swallowed. "Let me set you free, Helen. If there are words I must say or something I have to do to give you your freedom, I'll do it. You've been a slave long enough. I love you. I want you to be free, whether I'm with you or not. You can send me back to my world, and go wherever you like and do whatever you wish, and never see me again."
Tears were flowing down her cheeks. She spoke softly. "I have known many, many men, Master. Some have been kind to me. Most have been cruel. A few I have even cared for." She wiped her eyes, and her lovely face crumpled.
"But none have ever cared for me. Not like this. Not like you."
She sat up straight. "Command me to love you, Master. That is my desire. I want this." She held out her perfect hand, and I took it. My own eyes were blurred with tears. "Command me," she said again, ever so softly.
"Love me, Helen," I said. "Love me with all your heart. I command it."
She melted into my arms, and I held her. "I do," she whispered. "Master."
"My name is John," I murmured. "Don't call me 'Master' again, Helen. Not ever."
"John," she whispered. "I love you, John."
We just held each other for a while. I had been looking for this my whole life, and had long since given up; but she had been without it far, far longer than I.
I looked down at her perfect face, inches away, and she was smiling as if she had never smiled before. Perhaps she hadn't.
And then I kissed her.
I am good with words; but that kiss was beyond any words I will ever, ever have.
---
I wouldn't rush her.
"Make love to me," she said, right after that first kiss.
"Not yet, Helen. I'm still a stranger. Let's get to know each other first."
She looked at me, puzzled yet again. "Do you not want me?"
I laughed. "Oh, Helen - oh, yes. You have NO idea. But not yet. Let's get to be friends, and then lovers." She blinked at that.
"Friends?"
I smiled. "Yes. It will mean more, much more, when we know each other better."
Her face took on an odd, thoughtful, and somehow wistful expression. "Mas - er, John - "
She smiled, and so did I. "John, there is a way that I can know you, and that you can know me. Completely."
I lifted an eyebrow. "Magic?" I asked.
"Yes. I can know everything about you - everything that has ever happened to you and everything that you think and are." She smiled slyly. "And I can know everything you like - and I can please you with that knowledge, beyond anything you have ever imagined."
I felt a little dizzy at that one.
She hesitated. "And you can know me, John. You can know all of my life - that I remember. I have forgotten the bad things - " A small line of puzzlement appeared between her perfect brows again - "I don't know why - but I remember much, and you can have it all. What I am, what I have been, what I know and can do."
She looked at me, her heart on her face, open and trusting. "No one has ever known me like that," she said. "No one has ever wanted to. But I can give you that." She looked at me hopefully. "If you want it."
"We can be - one," I said. She nodded, her chin quivering.
"What do I have to do, Helen?"
A tear fell from one beautiful violet eye. "Lie down."
I did; and as she moved near me, she asked, "John, do you trust me?"
"Of course," I said.
"Hold that in your heart. This will be very strange to you." She kissed me; and then she turned and lay down on top of me, facing up, as I was -
It took me a moment to grasp it.