Her Two Wishes

Chapter 1-2

An echoing bang on the door interrupted her. Her skin prickled.

“Your honor, I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m in search of the Princess. Is she with you?”

This was the moment Jasmine had thought about from the time she had come up with her plan. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Vizier’s voice had been burned into her mind. She knew the creepy way it danced up and down and its tone. She could impersonate it. At least she thought she could.

“Never disturb me when I’m working. Never disturb me!” Jasmine said in a grading tone.

“I’m sorry, your honor. I’ll look for her elsewhere, your honor,” the guard said before going silent.

Jasmine waited and listened. She didn’t hear anything else. Did that mean he was gone? Was the door again locked? Or, was she not convincing and he was going to try to enter?

As Jasmine stared at the door, nothing happened. There were no further knocks and the guard didn’t test the lock. At least for a few more moments, she was safe.

Feeling the time slip away, she went into action. With her long robe pushed aside, she looked down at her clothes. She was wearing pants. And not just the undergarments that Arab women sometimes wore, actual boy’s pants. On top of that, she was wearing a tradition collarless shirt and a vest. From the neck down, she looked like a boy. Unfortunately, there was only one thing that was sure to give her away in Chinese Muslim society. It was her hair. Her long, thick, luxurious hair.

Jasmine had considered wearing a hat as part of her disguise, but what if it was pulled off. Her disguise would be immediately blown. No, there was only one thing she could do if she truly wanted to escape the prison in which she lived.

Withdrawing the scissors from the sash around her waist, she took hold of them with one hand and the length of her hair with the other. She didn’t want to do this. The only compliment her mother had ever given her as a child had been about her hair. As far as Jasmine knew, it was the only good thing about her. But, if she was going to live, to truly live, she was going to have let go of everything she once held dear. With that, Jasmine squeezed and her ponytail came loose in her hand.

What had she done?

Jasmine had not expected tears to fill her eyes. But, her father had always said that the beauty of a Chinese girl resided in her hair. The same could be said about Chinese men. But, outside the palace gates, she wouldn’t be trying to pass as either.

The only way she could live, truly live, was as a boy. As she read in her books, free girls had barely more freedom than she did. But, a boy, he held the world in his hand like a beautiful pearl. That was what she wanted. And, to have a chance at that, she would need to get rid of more than just her ponytail.

By the time Jasmine was done, she didn’t have to cover her face to hide. Staring into one of Vizier’s copper pots, she couldn’t recognize herself. She was a boy, there was no doubt about it. Jasmine would place her age between 13, and 15. But, there was no way people were going to see her as a China doll anymore. That part of her life was over.

Gathering the hair and all of her belongings into a ball, she approached the wall lantern again. This time she yanked on it with force. If it didn’t release a door, it was going to come off the wall in her hands. It was then that a panel in the wall opened. The door wasn’t light and required another yank on the lantern to fully open. But when it was, Jasmine was washed with a sense a relief that warmed her to her core.

She was doing it. She was going to be free. She felt so good, she could’ve broken into song. She didn’t.

Staring into the passage ahead, the only thing she could tell was that it was dark. It was the darkest of the dark. Having stepped forward, she backed out. There was no way she was going to navigate it like it was. She was going to need a light.

Searching around Vizier’s laboratory was when she found something that she never expected to see. Tucked against the wall was a basket filled with golden tears. They glistened in the lanterns’ light. She knew she would need something of value in the city and she could only imagine how much one of the golden teardrops were worth.

“No, Jasmine. He’s the master of coin for the kingdom. Take even one and he will know it’s gone. Find a lantern and go.”

Reluctantly covering the basket and moving on, Jasmine found a discarded torch at the bottom of another basket. She wasn’t sure if Vizier was going to miss this, but what choice did she have? It was this or nothing.

With her arms still filled with her belongs, Jasmine lit the torch, entered the dark passageway and closed the wall panel behind her. Walking, she felt like she was walking forever. Turning left and then right, she wasn’t sure if she would end up outside or deeper into the bowels of her prison. But when her path ended at a door sustained by a metal latch, she flicked the handle, opened the door and focused her eyes on the most dazzling image that she had ever seen.

Standing before her was what could only be described as freedom. She had done it. After 20 years of imprisonment, Jasmine was finally free.

Jasmine’s eyes filled with tears once again. This time she didn’t know why. Was it the joy of her new freedom? Was it the sadness for what she was leaving behind? Was it because of the storm of emotions that had hit her at once? She didn’t know. What she did know, however, was that she was free and she had to keep moving to stay that way.

Stepping out and closing the door behind her, the cracks between the door and the wall seemed to disappear. Was that magic too? Holding her torch in one hand and her robe and hair in another, she turned back towards the illuminated city and began her new life.

Crossing the distance between the wall and the city, Jasmine was awed by the sight. She had seen it from the balcony of her bedroom, but she couldn’t have imagined what it looked like up close. The small wooden structures with their ceramic tile roofs glowed with life. The closer she got, the more she was enveloped with the smells and sounds of the city. The air smelled like a dance of spices. And the city sounded like laughter and love.

Walking between the small, warm homes, Jasmine was lost in imagination about what must be going on within. How did those families interact? Did they dance together? She had read about it in stories from foreign lands. Was that what the common people did? Not knowing, her heart hurt wanting to find out.

Although she knew that she should be running as far and as fast as she could, she didn’t run. The entire night, she crossed between all of the homes and rowdy structures wondering what it must be like to go inside. It had to be glorious.

She couldn’t get herself to do it, though. How could she? She didn’t even know how to walk when within a drinking establishment. Her movement instructor had never taught her that.

As the lights of the small wooden homes went out, Jasmine slowly realized something that she hadn’t really thought about when she was planning her escape. Now that she was free of her prison, where would she sleep?

Could she knock on someone’s door and ask for a bed? Were there inns around? If there were, how would she pay? In fact, how would she pay for anything? Jasmine thought back to the basket of golden tears she had seen in Vizier’s laboratory. How many nights would one of those have bought her?

After a while, thinking about it became too much for her. Jasmine just needed somewhere to sleep. There were many empty alleys between the homes and buildings. Coming across one where the dirt was soft, Jasmine sat with her back against the wall. Wrapping her robe around her body for privacy and warmth, she swore to only close her eyes for a moment before she fell asleep.

“Get up, you street rat,” Jasmine heard before feeling a kick that caught her squarely in the ribs.

“Ow!” she proclaimed angrily as she popped out from under her robe. “That hurt!”

“If you don’t want to be kicked, then you shouldn’t sleep in the streets.”

“There was nowhere else to go,” Jasmine proclaimed indignantly.

“You think that’s my problem? Get out of here,” he said before kicking her again.

“Ow! Ow!” Jasmine said crawling away.

“And, where did you steal that?” The man said pointing at the luxurious robe.

“I didn’t steal it. It’s mine,” Jasmine proclaimed without thinking.

“Yours? The only one who could own something as expensive as that would be a princess. Are you the Princess, boy?”

It was then that Jasmine’s eyes and mind cleared. She looked up into the pudgy man’s eyes. …She was looking into his eyes, and he was looking back at her. He was seeing her. He was the first person to truly see her. It felt incredible.

“Get out of here,” the shopkeeper said again before pulling back his foot and letting it fly against her ass.

When it connected, the blow lifted Jasmine’s small body into the air and deposited her a few inches away. The kick hurt. It hurt tremendously. She wanted to cry. And looking back into the first new set of eyes she had looked into in a decade, she finally noticed how angry they were. They scared her. She had to get out of there.

Getting up, Jasmine did everything she could to hold in her emotions. Quickly collecting her robe, she stopped when the man stepped forward and stood on the tale of it.

“No, Princess, the robe isn’t yours. I’ll return it to its rightful owner.” The look on his face shifted to a wry smile. “And, if I can’t find them, I’ll sell it for a nice profit.”

‘Wait, the robe has value. I can sell it,’ Jasmine realized.

“I can sell it to you if you want it,” Jasmine said suddenly realizing how hungry she was.

“Or, I can take it and not take your life while I’m at it.”

“You can’t just take it from me,” Jasmine said confused by the man’s suggestion.

“Oh really, just watch me,” the man said with darkness that Jasmine could never have imagined.

The shopkeeper descended on Jasmine with ferocity. He struck her as she held up her thin arms to protect herself. She wondered if she was going to die. When a blow landed against her head, she was sure that she was.

Dizzy, all she could think about was how she could get him to stop. There was only one way that came to mind. She had to yell out who she was. She had to tell him that she was the Princess.

“Hey! Hey! Leave him alone,” another voice yelled from a distance.

The blows stopped. What had happened? Jasmine wondered. Were the hits about to begin again?

“Stay out of this, street rat,” the pudgy man directed at the new voice.

That was when Jasmine unburied her head and looked up at her assailant. He was distracted. This was her time to escape. Rolling away, she tried to grab the robe as she went.