I am a mystery of universe…

  I see many, many cannot see me.

  I am a mastery of conspire…

  I saw Jupiter himself die under the ruins of the white marble columns.

  I am a witness to all…

  I witnessed a century end in flames and a new one rise with the eastern sun.

  I am a creature of fire…

  I appear at the right place at the right time.

  Some saw me in the deceiving shadow of the dead,

  Some called me Ghull, some called me Ghoul, some called me Ghulabanii.

  For that I am the furtive glimpse of your dismayed memory,

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, will tell you all about my fortunate existence…

  I praised this good fortune of mine when I first appeared before her years ago, in the tiny village by the Black Sea. She summoned me to ask me a question no other seven-year-old child had ever asked before.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  “Ghull! Answer if you are here! Will I die in this village?”

  She waited patiently holding three matches in her hand. She opened her green eyes wide and let the cool sea breeze brush her hair. Her shoulders were tightened with fear. They were not the shoulders of a queen. They were not the shoulders of a warrior. Through the flames of my heart, I saw the flows of the future. A sparkle of compassion in me answered the little girl’s question and I moved the matches away from each other to answer ‘no.’

  Although she was scared when she saw the matches move with an unseen force of mystery, she was relieved with the answer. Her shoulders relaxed, she raised tall. I wished I could explain her a little more. But I was only allowed for a yes or no.

  She threw away the matches and walked to the backyard of the old stone house. Her mother was having an afternoon tea with grandma under the shade of the century old grape vine.

  “I want to take grandma’s old photos with me, can I have them?” she asked her mother.

  Grandma brought a wooden box filled with the photos and a bag of soil. The lid of the box was decorated with red poppies, its colors already faded years ago. The little girl was so much like grandma. She was cursed and blessed with her kind of heart and her kind of mind.

  “Farewell Havva, my dear. See these photos when you miss me and touch the soil when you feel lost,” grandma said.

  Although she was old, grandma’s gift was young. She was the only one who could see me in my appearance that day. When she saw me, she was glad. It was sad that she was to die before she could understand.

  For there is no power that compares the good health in one single exhale of breath,

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, have mercy for the creatures of mud and clay.