Chapter 1
The strange black box
It’s a cold, dark winter’s night in New York, it’s snowing. Bob, numb and drunk hardly managing to walk, partly for the cold and for his state, partly because it’s dark in the lane and he needs to pay attention to avoid the trash scattered here and there amongst other homeless people like him searching for food in the garbage bins. But his worry is not so much how to get food as how to warm himself. He tries to light a makeshift fire but the wood he has is by now wet from the snow melted on them. He opens a garbage bin searching for something dry to burn but, nothing. Searching in the next one he eventually finds some newspapers but they aren’t enough; his search goes on in the next. Suddenly he hears some footsteps, someone is approaching. Instinctively he moves away from the garbage bin, he doesn’t appreciate contact with other people so much. While walking he hears that person stop and place something on the ground. He comforts himself thinking it’s just someone throwing something away and not some crazy intolerant person who enjoys provoking, hitting or maybe killing the homeless. Not that he is a man who’s easy to scare. He is a big black man accustomed to fist fights. But against weapons there’s nothing he can do. And black people like him are always the first to get targeted so his attention is always very high. He knows that world well. Twenty years ago he was a much decorated detective and he saw a lot of evil and barbaric acts against people like himself.
He turns slightly while walking and sees the guy picking up the pieces from the box that he has lain on the ground to throw them away. The guy returns his glance. He has a black box in his hands that sparkles a bit under the poor light coming from a street lamp.
Hey! – he shouts towards Bob trying to get his attention – Do you want this?
It’s a wooden box, it can be helpful.
Bob turns towards the guy and he throws him it. Bob nods to thank him.
You’re welcome – replies the guy –
He goes on throwing his things away and then leaves while Bob is examining that object he finds in his hands. It’s an ancient black wooden case, with gold outlines. Now it’s clear what was sparkling under the light. He starts to feel his hands warming. – It’s just an impression – Bob thinks. – Drunkenness plays bad jokes. – And smiles. Then he puts the box down and the warm feeling stops. He picks it up again and the feeling restarts.
In no way scared, accompanied by his drunkenness, but his curiosity getting the better of him he examines the case with more attention despite the poor light. There is a key, he turns it and the box springs open. Inside, the bottom of the box is made of red velvet with a ring holder, there’s no ring in it though. On the inside of the cover, there’s a mirror a bit spotted and worn by time. Bob hasn’t looked at himself in a mirror for a lifetime.
My God I look bad – it’s his bitter thought.
While he is looking at himself in the mirror he rubs it as if to clean it a bit and see better when, suddenly, a blinding flash hits his eyes. He quickly closes them and even before he realizes what’s happening…
Hi! – says a distinguished guy who has popped up from the light and is politely holding his hands and the case.
He is a nice jolly guy, with the look of a good guy, a bit of a beard but oddly dressed. He wears a gold turban with a violet plume in front, which is held by two rows of golden pearls crossed on the turban. He wears a violet robe with golden needlework and turquoise sleeves. – Bob thinks he looks like he’s just walked off a cinema set.
In no way scared, he replies:
You want the case right? Take it
No! I am your servant and if I hold your hands it’s only because I didn’t want you to slam my house on the ground – answers the guy ironically and with a smile –
Oh, I understand – retorts Bob pretending to indulge him. – You’re crazier than me
So, what do you want? – Bob asks losing his patience
Make a wish and it will be granted – answers the guy letting his hands go –
Yes, sure – counters Bob ironically – light a fire; it’s cold.
If this is your desire, boss, your wish will be done.
In no time a container with a warm fire inside appears.
Hmm, not bad. You decided to use your magician’s experiments with me? – Bob is increasingly ironic –
OK, I want a bed.
And here is the bed, boss –replies the guy happily
Wow, you are good!
What do you mean with “you’re good”, I’m a genius, sure I’m good. – Ever heard people speak about a genius? He grants your desires! – comments the guy annoyed.
OK, if you are a real genius – says Bob – then find my son and bring him here, now!
Sure boss. Put on the ring. – asks the genius –
Which r… - Bob stops. Opening the case he noticed that originally there must have been a ring. His habit of observing details has stayed unaltered over time. And so he goes on
Ring? Why do we need a ring now?
It’s the ring to grant your greatest desires. Without that I can’t do anything, boss. I’m sorry but I can’t.
Yes, sure – comments Bob getting impatient.
Ask for another desire, my boss. Something that can help you find your son. – suggests the genius.
Bring me the ring here, then! – says Bob –
Even this isn’t in my power, boss – answers the genius desolate – only the keeper of the case can recover it and the keeper now is you.
But shouldn’t you have prevented the theft of the ring?
The keeper usually wears it, if he hasn’t put it back again in its place there must be a reason!
Well, you know what? You really are a poor genius –Bob cuts him short with a mixture of resignation and disappointment.
Then let me win the lottery – he goes on notwithstanding everything – Tomorrow is the day of the draw and the jackpot is 160 million dollars! Is this in your power? – still ironic –
Sure boss! Here are the numbers. – Suddenly a parchment scroll appears in the pocket of the coat Bob is wearing.
Well, boss – says the genius – now I have to go. You have three wishes every day and you have used them all. See you tomorrow, goodnight.
Under Bob’s dazed glance the case closes and the genius disappears inside.
Don’t throw me away, keep me with you! – yells the guy from the closed case – I like you!
Bob is unbelieving notwithstanding everything and he would ask himself a lot of questions if he were sober. But now, tired and defeated by the alcohol he lies for the first time in years in a real warm bed next to the fire and he falls deeply asleep.
At sunrise, as soon as he opens his eyes, seeing himself in a true bed he quickly gets up and sits straight.
My God – he exclaims rubbing his eyes – it was all true!
The case is still at his side. He remembers the request for the numbers made to the genius and excitedly searches in his pockets for the parchment. He finds it, takes it and opens it. It actually contains numbers. But he realizes he doesn’t have any money. He used the last to buy something to drink the night before. A man sold him a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, his favorite whiskey, for a few bucks. A chance he couldn’t miss. Because of its usually high price he hadn’t drunk a drop of it for years and that day he partied drinking the entire bottle!
In the middle of this thought the sound of female heels catches his attention. It’s rare to see a woman passing “his” lane. So 99% she was probably Alma Dulce, his social assistance.
And she was, the Sweet Soul as he was used to call her in his thoughts. One day she told him that her mother chose her name after seeing her face soon after she was born. The bad news is that she discovered it when she was a teenager reading a diary the woman started writing when she born and that got sadly stopped because of her death from a tumor when Alma was only 3.
Bob holds her in high esteem. Even though she had a hard life, she studied and got a degree in psychology. And every time he sees her he thinks of his son (they would be more or less same age). Who knows if he is alive or dead? And, if he’s alive, what kind of guy did he become?
Hey Bob, what a bed! – Alma exclaims with surprise and a smile – Where did you find it?
Oh, a genius came and he granted my wish – he answers with irony –.
Ha, you always like to joke, Bob. – Alma comments –
Alma – says Bob getting serious – please, play these numbers for me. I’ve run out of money. If we win we split it 50/50, do you agree?
Well, we could fix our lives! – Alma exclaims ironically.
Try – he says – you never know. Keep the receipt, let me know tomorrow.
No matter what happened the night before he is quite skeptical about the results those numbers might give. He’s happy to give it a go, though.
Sure Bob, it’s a pleasure.
Alma is surprised, in the many years she has been following him he has never asked her for anything. Sure she cannot imagine that the genius is real, she thinks it was Bob’s joke.
So, bye Bob, see you tomorrow.
See you. – Bob replies -
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End of chapter 1
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Grammar and spelling revised by friends.
You can still read/find my original work (I mean will all the mistakes!) here http://cristinahady2.blogspot.it/2012/08/genius-chapter-1-strange-black-box.html
I’m taking this opportunity to improve my English knowledge.
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