I was born into a family of evil people. Normally, when you are born in a rotten place, you grow up rotten too, but that is not what happened with me. From a very young age I used to see what my family did, and I never liked it, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I want to tell you a small fragment from the story of this family, a family I can only call "the family of the deformed." Not because of how they looked, but because of how they were on the inside: their hearts were filthy and extremely hard. They used to hurt people, and the more someone gave them, the more they hurt that person.
The worst of these monsters was my grandfather. No one could oppose him in anything he said. He was manipulative, sly, and calculating. He was a sorcerer, and at the same time the leader of a criminal gang. People in that town were terrified of him; some of them even worked for him, because if they refused, he could harm them. If he wanted to, he could destroy them spiritually with sorcery, or physically by beating them or even killing them.
You might ask me, "Where were the police?" I will tell you: no one could touch him, not even the police. One day he told my father that before the police could even think of doing anything to him, he would already know. If they planned to come for him, or if someone wanted to file a complaint against him, he would catch wind of it and "do his work" first, solving the problem in his own way.
You might wonder how. He had influence high up in the state. Important people from the country used to come to him so he could solve their problems—not only normal problems, but also matters related to magic and the unseen. Even the people who worked for him were afraid of him.
My grandfather always wanted to be closer to me than to my siblings or even my father. We lived in a huge house—honestly, it was less a house and more like a small palace. We all lived there together. My grandfather had strict rules: everyone had to be present at dinner, no excuses, unless there was a very special situation.
We were more than thirty people living in that place: me, my father, my brothers and sisters, my three uncles, my two aunts and their children, and my grandfather. My grandmother had died a long time ago, and after she died, my grandfather never remarried.
He used to say to me, "Grandson, you are the one I feel the closest to. You should be my successor. I know you well, I know you don't like our world. But if you listen to me, you will go far. I will give you knowledge that very few people in this world have, and you will be one of them."
I told him, "Grandfather, forgive me, but I don't like this world of yours." He replied, "If I want you to enter this world, you will enter it. But I don't want to force you. I want you to be convinced. Even those who want you to join us do not want you by force; they want you out of love."
I asked him, "Who are they?" He said, "If you want to know them, you first have to accept me." I stayed silent and walked away.
There is something I will tell you later in this same chapter I'm writing for you now. Maybe I have already entered that world, maybe I have not. I do not know whether I should tell you or keep quiet. I will think about it.
The Yemeni Visitor
For now, let me tell you a short incident that happened to us one day. My grandfather received an important man from the Yemeni government. The man said to my grandfather, "They sent me to you. There are people I work for who told me there is no one but you who can solve this problem." He added, "Ask for anything you want. I have money, anything you need."
My grandfather asked him, "What is your problem?" The man said, "My son killed a girl, and I am a respected, well‑known man. This case has become a public scandal. I tried to use my influence to get us out of this crime, but the evidence is strong and public opinion is speaking loudly. Even the people of the country can't do anything, and people are calling for his execution. I cannot let my son die."
My grandfather told him, "Your son will not die." The man said, "I also don't want him to go to prison." My grandfather answered, "He won't go to prison." Then he added, "But there is one condition."
The man asked, "What is it? I agree to anything." My grandfather said, "In Yemen there is something called mercury. But I don't want just any mercury—I want a specific type called shahroukh. Its color is close to red, but not red, and close to purple, but not purple. If you bring it to me, your son is yours—safe."
He continued, "To make it easier for you, I will tell you where to find it. All that's left is for you to bring it to me like a man who keeps his word." The man left and began searching for this mercury.
After a few weeks, he returned to my grandfather and said, "What you asked me for—I couldn't bring it. It is impossible. They asked me for insane amounts of money and other things, but this... I simply couldn't do it."
My grandfather asked, "Why not?" The man said, "When I asked around, they told me that the place where it is found is harsh, full of jinn, and that it is impossible for anyone to come out of there."
My grandfather said to him, "Then choose: your son's life, or your own." The man thought for about five minutes, and my grandfather remained silent, not saying a word. Finally the man stood up and asked, "If I go there, and I don't come back, and I fail to bring you the mercury, will my son die?"
My grandfather said, "No, he will not die. If you go, and enter, and die there, or stay trapped and cannot get out, whatever happens to you, I will know—and I will save your son. That's all."
The Vanishing
The man went back to his country and disappeared. From that moment, he never returned.
After some time passed, I asked my grandfather about him. He told me, "The man vanished without a trace." I asked, "Did he die?" He replied, "I don't know."
I said to him, "Aren't you the one who can know whether someone is alive or dead? People come to you so you can find their children or relatives, and tell them where they are." He said, "Yes, I can—if they are still on this earth. I can know from the Preserved Tablet. But that man entered another world, and I can no longer know anything about him."
I asked him again, "And his son—did he die?" He said, "No, he didn't die. He is still alive." I asked, "Is he in prison?" My grandfather answered, "No, he got out of prison."
I said, "How?" He replied, "You are asking too many questions. If you want to know this world, you have to accept it."
Anyway, I have just told you this little story—just a tiny fragment of the many secrets of my family. Do you want me to keep telling you more?
— To be continued... —
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