The Dhanush Chapter 3
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The Dhanush - Chapter 2 free porn video
Ayman took me to an ancient part of town. He had to park the car and walk as the stone alleys were so narrow that even the sun couldn’t get down into the labyrinth of warrens and dens, shops and stalls. I perused so many beautifully laid out stalls with exotic items that my senses were overwhelmed for a while. I purchased a few oddities and some sugar dates and pistachios when finally, I could take it no more and asked Ayman for a break.
He took me through a dozen intertwined alleys finally arriving at a tidy stall that had tea and lunch and low and behold, some backgammon tables where locals were playing a few matches. Lined with obviously very old ornately-carved dark mahogany panels, it was well outfitted with a new flat-screen tv above the counter with a cricket match on. A high-end computer was serving as the register and something very cool – an old British phone booth was by the entrance where there was a small lineup of men waiting to make their calls while a fellow was in the booth talking rapidly.
We had a light and delicious lunch and sat down to play. I have been playing backgammon for years so knew how to play, when to double, how to make bad rolls work in my favor, when to take a risk and when to capitulate. So I looked forward to playing some of the locals who, after all, have been playing the game for centuries.
It seems that I was a bit of an oddity – an American who knew how to play this ancient game. So as Ayman and I played a couple of matches and I beat him soundly some of the locals took an interest. Ayman translated when some of the locals decided to open up a bit and talk. They asked where I was from and how long I had been playing and if I enjoyed playing for money and when I grinned and nodded there was a general round of smiles and knowing laughter.
All this time, an odd-looking and obviously ancient man was sitting in the back corner on a pile of silk and hide pillows with a hookah slowly being drawn and bubbling through his grey thin lips – dark and brooding. His eyes were black with huge silver eyebrows and a beard flowing to his knees that would make Merlin proud. The wrinkles that creased his face were deep chasms showing many years of hardship and toil. He seemed never to blink and I felt his eyes boring into me even when I wasn’t furtively glancing at him. There was something distinctly odd about him but since the other fellows in the stall never acknowledged him I let it go.
Ayman was not a seasoned player so I figured now was the time to put years of playing to the test. The first few rounds with my new acquaintances did not go well and I lost quite a few Euros – much to their pleasure and amusement - but then I began to hold my own and win some of my losses back.
After a few hours, my butt was sore and I couldn’t drink more tea so it was time to wrap it up. The locals told Ayman that I was a good player and because I had treated them with respect and was both a good loser as well as a gracious winner, that I could come and play with them anytime.
The odd staring gentleman that had unnerved me appeared by my side out of nowhere and in halting English said that he was delighted with my visit. He then said something very strange, quietly so that only I could hear: “It is late for the hour of your arrival but now that you are here it is a good sign of things to come.” His hands were icy cold and hard as iron as he grasped mine firmly in his, in a weird welcoming two-handed grasp.
As his hands grasped mine, suddenly I saw lives like movies flash before my mind in rapid-fire and felt faint and flushed, like swirling in a ghostly whirlpool cloud but with your life as an instant movie. I felt something being thrust into my hand and as my head cleared I was vaguely aware that Ayman had continued to translate what the locals were saying to me. I shook my head to clear away the strange fogginess and looked about and the old man was gone, as were the pillows in his corner.
My head cleared further as I bowed unsteadily to each of them bidding goodbye and saying I would be honored to return. I asked Ayman about the old man and where he had gone to which he looked directly into my eyes, puzzled, and asked, “who are you referring to – there was nobody there?!”
Back at the house as my head finally cleared, Ayman wrote out directions of how to return to the little backgammon parlor as he would not be available for a week due to his lecture schedule. I undressed and prepared for bed. As I cleared my pockets I found a heavy metallic object with very old and subtle Moorish scrollwork etched into the surface. It was from all appearances made of hematite and shaped like a big flat yet smooth sugar date. I held and looked at it carefully and there lay a fine line of almost microscopic smooth green stones. I put it carefully aside in the drawer and went off to shower and sleep.
A few days and several more nights of frustrating attempts at getting the local women to acknowledge my presence passed. I went back to the club where I had seen the beautiful rust haired woman and though I saw her again she would not even make eye contact this time. I was tiring of trying so thought it would be polite to return to the little parlor a play a few rounds of backgammon with my new acquaintances.
I rummaged through the bedside drawer and found the directions Ayman had written down. I also spotted the metallic object laying there as something compelled me to pick it up. I looked at it carefully again and noticed with interest and awe that the stones ringing the object were now purple. Out of amusement, I laid it on my palm. I gasped and reeled as I felt my entire body go rigid, then extremely hot, then icy cold and then nothing… nothing at all.
I awoke face down on the bed wondering what had happened. I took a few moments as I drew some deep breaths and slowly arose. When finally standing I realized that I felt fantastic. I felt alive and energized, clear-headed more than any other time in my life and fresh. I looked at my hand and there was now what appeared to be an emblazoned tattoo of the same shape and size as the metal date in my palm. I felt the area and noticed it was warm. I put on my glasses and notice that what at first appeared to be just a plain grey tattoo was actually extraordinary fine lettering and scrollwork like I had seen on the object, almost like a henna tattoo but much finer.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pondered the circumstances and was wondering what to do and if I should stop by a hospital, when I remembered my plan of going to play some backgammon at the old bazaar stall. Thinking further, I wanted to question the old man about this object he had slipped me.
I saw the directions Ayman had written lying on the floor so I went to the bathroom noting that I looked great. My body had changed with clearly defined and somewhat chiseled musculature now outlined in my garb. My clothes were pressed, my hair perfectly trimmed, but longer, flowing over my shoulders and shinning, the bags under my eyes were gone and my eyes were incredibly white and there was a glow about me. I felt very odd but damn I also felt amazing – clear-headed, strong and alive - so I went down to the main boulevard and hailed a cab to the old town.
I went into the maze of alleys where Ayman only days before had led me and within moments nothing looked familiar. Not one alley, not one shop, not one face. I wandered and wandered looking for any signs of familiarity but nothing seemed to fit the mental pictures from days earlier and I had been taking detailed mental notes as we went. Spices and herbs, fruits and vegetables, meats of all sorts, fabrics, leather and metal works filled the stalls as before but nothing matched from my previous visit.
Finally, I found a small spot selling tea and sat down to try and come to grips with my predicament. As I sipped the sweet mint tea I noticed with some alarm that I could see people with a vividness, a clarity that I had never noticed before. One striking blond – obviously a tourist, was walking by gazing at the items in the stall next to where I was sitting. She was a Nordic beauty that my dirty mind wanted to see sprawled on a bed, legs splayed wide as I thrust into her as her tits bounced all over her upper torso.
As I stared at her I gasped – all of a sudden I could see her in all her naked glory. Her breasts were enormous with light pink areolas and large erect nipples. Her belly was flat but with those wonderful curves that speak of childbirth; her pussy was shaved and my goodness – as she strode away from me, she had the most perfect ass I had ever seen. “What the…?” I wondered aloud. No way! This is not possible. I looked for another woman and saw one of the stall workers across the way and mentally undressed her. Unfortunately for me, she was really quite unattractive and the sight that I beheld was not one of beauty at all. I snapped my eyes shut and all was as it had been.
I watched as the blond receded into the distance of the alley and it was getting towards dusk so I thought that I would keep a relatively straight line through the maze and eventually I would come to a main road to get a cab. I wandered more and the more I wandered, dusk rapidly engulfed us all. Stalls were closing and I was getting strange stares, almost looks of fear - from most of the locals who seemed to be hurrying at an increased pace to finish their day. Within moments the entire area that I was stranded in was deserted. A few rats and cockroaches scurried along the borders and gutters but otherwise, it was dark and I was alone.
I fished out my cell phone to call Ayman only to see that there was no reception… in fact, the screen message on my phone said, “no carrier”. I sat down on a stoop to ponder my circumstance and decided that my best course of action was to follow my initial thought – walk as straight a line as I could until I came to a main road.
I wandered back from where I came and again, nothing made sense. Nothing looked the same from even a few moments before. Twenty minutes later I was still in a maze but now it was completely dark.
I pulled out my phone again and tried to use the built-in map of Istanbul that I had installed to triangulate my position via the GPS but the app wasn’t there anymore and the GPS could not pick up a satellite to triangulate my position. While I was holding my phone up I noticed – more like felt – the tattoo in my palm. It had deepened in intensity, grown in size and had a soft rosy glow to it. I hadn’t noticed it for some time but now that I looked at it the lettering was softly illuminated with a faint yellow glow. I wondered if my phone was creating the glow so I shut it off and the glow only became more pronounced.
Pocketing my phone, I was becoming a little agitated and honestly a bit scared when I turned a corner and saw a lone stall partially shuttered but with soft light glowing outward from the open doorway. As I approached I recognized the little backgammon parlor but it was completely out of place – definitely not where it had been before. I wandered up to the light cautiously and peered around the edge to find the place empty.
Now it seemed that the place was older and more rustic. The television that had been above the counter was gone, as was the computer and the old red British phone booth. I was thinking to myself that it must be a different stall but then I noticed the hookah and the pile of pillows in the back corner where previously the old man had been sitting. As I walked in a bird chirped and out of a back area behind some beads, a young man came out carrying a tray of steaming tea. I looked at him and did a double-take. Sunken deep black eyes and huge bushy eyebrows – it was the same man but at least seventy years younger.
“Welcome, Franklyn, my friend. Your return is late but never mind… let us sit,” he said.
I know that I had not told him my name and with everything else weird going on I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights.
“All will be explained, my friend. Please – sit and be comfortable for your tale, as is mine, is long and will take some time for you to understand,” he continued, seeing my dazed expression.
“How do you know my name… and, and how do you know MY tale?” I asked him.
“It is as the heavens wish, my friend. It is rude of me though to not introduce myself. I am Hadad and am your servant and guide through your – how should I say? Awakening?”
I was totally confused now. What the fuck was going on here? “I’m sorry… Hadad? That’s your name? What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“Please my friend… come and sit. All will be illuminated in due time…” he replied, grasping my slack hand in both of his and guiding me back to the corner where the pillow pile lay. His hands were no longer cold but almost hot to the touch.
He guided me down and went back to the counter to retrieve the tray of tea. On the little ornate stand of mahogany inlaid with abalone and ivory next to the pillows were plates of Turkish foods the like that I had never seen. Stuffed apples with lamb, mint and quince pastes, small eggplants hollowed and filled with pistachio creams and meats, sugar dates with peppers and more. I was in awe! Being a serious food dude, this spread looked amazing.
Hadad came and sat on a pillow and beckoned me to do the same. I decided that this dreamscape had to be just that and went with it. Lowering myself onto a big pillow of deep purple and gold embroidery I felt immediately like I had been there before. I took the proffered tea and sipped the delicious sweet mint liquid. As I did so, my mind showed me flashes of a palace of white marble with amazing huge area rugs and tapestries, animals of all sorts roaming about, and beautiful women in diaphanous white gowns milling about. I shook my head and looked back at Hadad with a questioning eye.
He smiled at me serenely and asked if I felt alright. “In fact Hadad, physically I have never felt better – but this is all really freaking me out!” I barked, nervously I might add.
He just kept his serene smile on his face and offered me a stuffed apple. I took one bite and knew that I had eaten it before – many times.
“Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?” I demanded.
Hadad held up his hand and slowly reached over for one of the hoses on the hookah and handed it to me. Taking one for himself he motioned for me to place the mouthpiece properly as he did the same. He lit and sucked to draw the shisha to flame so I took a deep breath and lightly puffed on the hose bringing a delicious peach flavored smoke to my mouth, filling my lungs. Instantly I felt relaxed and with another one of those flashes knew that I had done this before – with this man no less, many times.
“Hohhh kay… Hadad? That’s your name? Isn’t that a fertility thing?” I asked.
“I am named the ancient Syrian god of fertility, yes,” he replied.
“So what’s happening to me, Hadad? I mean c’mon – what’s with the bizarre changing bazaar, the changes in the stall and what’s with this?” I asked, holding my hand up for him to see the filigree tattoo on my palm. “This is actually scary!”
His eyes gleamed. “Oh no Franklyn – not scary – not scary at all. Wonderful it is! And it is about time you came back for it I might add! It has been somewhat of a burden to safeguard it for two centuries” Hadad said with pleased animation.
“Whoa – wait a minute! Come back for it? As I asked before – WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!?!” I demanded.
Hadad took a deep pull off the hookah while never taking his eyes off of mine. Like the first meeting he never blinked, which is really unnerving and if you’ve ever been in presence of someone who rarely blinks you know exactly what I mean.
He took a deep breath and taking my hands in his began to tell a tale that was deeply more than fantastical.
To be continued in Chapter 3…
Eisley
- 02.06.2020
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