The Hakawati

by Rabih Alameddine

“She arrived on a flying carpet,” said one of the courtiers. “I saw her. She descended from the heavens.” “The underworld is not up there,” the vizier said. “No man has ever descended to a demon’s lair and made it back alive. This tale is a lie. I would suggest the slave girl offer some proof of her exotic journey.” “Would you be willing to place a wager?” Fatima asked. “If I produce proof, are you willing to surrender everything you have on you at this moment?” And the vizier agreed. Fatima brought her left palm to her face and blew on it. Red dust appeared, multiplied, and formed a cloud that hovered before her. The imp Ishmael ran out of the dust. His brother Isaac followed, toward the vizier. “I claim all the gold,” he said. Fatima’s breath turned into orange dust upon touching her palm, and Ezra jumped out. Jacob ran out yelling, “The jewelry is all mine.” Job disagreed. “It is mine, I tell you.” The dust kept swirling above Fatima’s palm, then turned blue, and Noah emerged, followed by Elijah. Violet Adam was last. “I must catch my breath,” Fatima said.