Stories Hub / Sci-Fi & Fantasy / Bisexual Somali Wizard

Bisexual Somali Wizard

by Samuelx 05/15/13

Man, why can't fate smile upon me for a change? I shook my head as I read the "go away nigger faggot" sticker on my car. Fucking retards, I grumbled and ripped off the sticker, crumpling it and tossing it on the ground. For a moment, I stood there, feeling both angry and powerless in the parking lot of the Royal Bank of Canada in Nepean. Who could have done this? I looked around the parking lot, staring at people getting into their cars or walking into the bank. Finally, I got behind the wheel and took off, driving down to my spot on Merivale Avenue. I've been working as an account manager at the bank for nine weeks now, and just when I started to get used to it, the shit hit the fan.

Someone's been broadcasting my business all over town and I know exactly who it is. Dylan, this motherfucker I made the mistake of getting involved with. Man, it's on now and he's got to pay for putting my business out like that. Oh, snap. I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry about that. My name is Ishmail Razzaq, and I'm a young man of Somali and Egyptian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Six months ago I graduated from Algonquin College with my bachelor's degree in Accounting and I'm saving up for business school. I've got my eye on Carleton University's Sprott School of Business. I've heard good things about it.

I didn't get too many breaks in this life, to tell you the truth but I believe that if you do the best that you can and trust in Allah, doors will open for you. Being bisexual and Muslim isn't the easiest thing in the world. You would think my parents would be understanding considering what they went through when they got together. My father Omar Razzaq is Somali and my mother Samira Hakam is Egyptian. Now that's a pairing you definitely don't see every day. The Arabs are racist as hell and it's extremely rare for an Arab woman to marry a Black man. Nevertheless, my parents met as foreign-born students at the University of Calgary in the 1980s, and fell in love. My mother's Egyptian family was staunchly against her being with my father because, like all Arabs, they consider Black people to be inferior. Nevertheless, my mom followed her heart and defied the forces of bigotry and traditionalism by choosing her own mate. They ran away to Ontario, got married and had little old me.

The tale of how they met is one I heard often while growing up in Ottawa. Life isn't often kind to those of us who are unique. When my parents and I would go to the local mosque, the Arabs would stare at us the way humans look at unicorns in the movies. Arab men sometimes marry Black women but Arab female/Black male pairings are almost completely unheard of, even though lots of Arab women find Black men attractive, it's Arab racism that keeps them from intermarrying. Anyhow, as the son of a unique couple, I was used to having all eyes on me. My mom is a recently retired schoolteacher and my father is a sergeant with the Canadian Armed Forces. Our family does alright for itself, considering how hostile Canadian society can get in the face of educated immigrants trying to 'move on up'.

When I said I was unique, I meant it, ladies and gentlemen. You see, there are lots of things out there which members of ordinary humanity aren't meant to see. Angels and Demons walk the Earth as do vampires, werewolves and monsters of various origin. You've probably seen them without knowing what they were because they can disguise themselves as disturbingly ordinary people. It's what they do and it makes sense, when you really think about it. What better disguise than the one that allows one to blend in effortlessly by hiding in plain sight? Yeah, well, they can hide from you but they can't hide from me. I have The Sight. The ability to see all things supernatural. It's not something I want, or need, to tell you the truth. Like my skin color, or my sexual orientation, it's just another thing I've got to live with.

I have this ability and honestly, when it first emerged, I didn't have a clue what to do with it. One night, while hanging out with some school friends at the movie theater after summertime football camp, I saw my cousin Kader at the movies with a tall, fine-looking young Black woman. I knew this dame wasn't human, though I couldn't tell you why. I approached Kader, and begged him to stay away from her. Annoyed, he told me to beat it and I reluctantly left. The next day, Kader didn't come home. Three days later our family went to the police to file a missing persons report. Two weeks later he was found dead, his body completely drained of blood. As the family mourned Kader's loss, I blamed myself. I knew something was wrong with that lady, though I couldn't tell you how I knew it. I should have tried harder, and explained my suspicions to Kader. Should've, could've but didn't, I guess.

Little did I know that the bloodsucker I saw Kader with wasn't even the worst of all the things that are out there. Vampires are dangerous, but they pale in comparison to Fallen Angels and Demons, or the more powerful breeds of Monsters. I was still in high school and I was slowly adjusting to the fact that we're surrounded by freaks and things at a time when most of my peers worried about zits, tests and the atrocities of dating. It was too much for me, and I had a breakdown. I snapped, man. I ended up in Bellevue, a mental health facility for at-risk youths, and that's where I met Dylan. The tall, dark and handsome, fearless rogue who shared my bunk. As a short, chubby young man, I was quite vulnerable to all the taunting, teasing and bullying that one gets in facilities like Bellevue, from both guards and residents. Dylan protected me from the creeps, and he gave me the confidence to confront them head-on when he wasn't around.

Dylan and I became lovers, and it didn't change our friendship one bit. In fact, at the time I thought Dylan was the best thing that ever happened to me. He believed me when I told about my ability to see nonhumans, and encouraged me to hone my skill. With his encouragement, I began to see The Sight as a gift rather than a curse. For instance, I knew that Mr. Barnes, a racist creep who was the leader of the guards at Bellevue, liked to fondle us residents when nobody was looking. I could also see The Reaper, the ancient spirit that follows those about to die, hovering around Barnes. So when Barnes had a heart attack in the facility's basement, instead of going for help I simply closed the door and let the Reaper have him. Thus, our tormentor was gone at last. I felt a bit bad about it but Dylan told me I was a hero for letting an evil man die, thus sparing his future victims a lifetime of pain and misery. When you look at it like that, I guess Dylan was right. I thought he was right about everything, in those days.

A few months later, I "got better" and my parents came to pick me up. I went home, but Dylan followed me. When I got home, I wanted to put everything that happened behind me. All this time I spent at Bellevue, I questioned many things except the true nature and identity of my best friend, lover and benefactor Dylan. How in hell could he follow me home since he was still at Bellevue when I left? You see, he wasn't human, and the whole time I was at Bellevue, only I could see him. He was invisible to everyone else. Yeah, Dylan was one of the very things he warned me against. In Islam, there are tales of the Djinn, immortal entities made out of smokeless fire. It is believed by Muslims worldwide that the entity known in Christianity and Judaism as Lucifer is Iblis, the Lord of the Djinn. Iblis and his ilk exist to tempt humans and lead them astray, away from the love of Allah. I had been sharing my bed and my life with a Djinn for months and hadn't known it. And he wasn't going away. I went to Masjid and asked Imam Mohammed Aden for advice about how to get rid of a Djinn. Hypothetically, of course.

Imam Mohammed Aden is a wise old Somali man I've known my entire life. He officiated at my parents wedding and he was the one who circumcised me shortly after my birth. I have the deepest respect for this man. He sat me down and talked to me, explaining to me that all of Allah's sons and daughters are participants in the war between good and evil. The best defence against the forces of evil is the Word of God, the Imam explained to me, and with that, he pointed to my Quran. I smiled and nodded. In the movies, I've seen priests use the Bible to exorcise Demons from the bodies of the people they possessed. With my Quran, I would banish Dylan.

I went home and confronted Dylan, brandishing my Quran in his face. A look of surprise filled Dylan's face. A deep rage welled up in his eyes and he growled menacingly. Before my very eyes he changed, going from a tall, muscular youth my own age into something truly horrific. He became a towering humanoid creature with baleful yellow eyes and chartreuse skin. Laughing, he grabbed me by the throat and told me that his name wasn't Dylan, but Aeshma Daeva, Master of Demons and one of the greatest of the Djinn. He raised me to his face, stretching his fang-filled jaws and inhaling my scent. I almost pissed myself, I was so scared. I cried for my mother and father, begging them to come help but Dylan/Aeshma Daeva told me they couldn't help me. For they weren't home.

The creature told me nothing could save me from him, and I asked him why he picked me. Laughing, Aeshma Daeva threw me to the floor and told me that in ancient times, men and women born with The Sight traveled the world, and fought against the forces of darkness. I perked up involuntarily, for the Monster just confirmed what I hoped for but could never voice out loud. There were others like me out there. I hunt them and destroy them or corrupt them, Aeshma Daeva told me. Not me, I said defiantly, and he seemed surprised by my tone. I rose up, Koran in hand, and shoved the holy book in Aeshma Daeva's face. The Djinn howled when the book touched his face, and I watched, amazed, as his face burned. Recoiling in fear, Aeshma Daeva stared at me, a look of anguish and pain on his face. Smiling, I hurled the book at him and he vanished in a cloud of smoke, swearing revenge.

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