THE SIGN
The mind was dreaming. The world was its dream.
― Jorge Luis Borges
The day before she died, his Nana told him the story of the evil jinni who would shape-shift into a beautiful woman and lure men to their death.
“Why would men go with the bad jinni?” the twelve-year-old Raj asked.
“Because men follow a pretty girl anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Just wait,” his Nana told him, “you just wait.”
Then she told him that the jinn have many signs, but this particular jinni was the most powerful: “she has the sign in plain view.”
“So, I’ll see it.”
“You won’t. You could even marry her and not know what she is.”
As Raj grew older, he often wondered what the sign was. Not that it mattered, not that he believed in any of this nonsense, just because he found it strange that he remembered everything his Nana had ever told him, except what the sign of the jinni was.
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