I am asked where it was I got all of this sparkly jewelry and my answer is always the same.
Oh, not precisely the same, it is true. Not word-for-word sameness, for that would be unusual, suspect, and in fact a bit creepy. The story of my jewelry evolves with each telling, but the basic framework remains.
Before the story of my jewelry evolves again, I’m going to tell it to you:
It starts in a desert.
I don’t know which desert. Perhaps there is no one who knows anymore. But in a desert it begins, or began, and in the palace of a Sultan, to boot.
In his palace, the Sultan had many precious stones – why not? – a whole room of them, let’s say, piled all the way up to the ceiling. There would be the usual gems like sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. There would be less well-known stones like pietercites, atracites, and chrysocollas. There would even be gems with names like democracite and bobstones that are nowhere to be found anywhere anymore.
The Sultan had a guard and the guard’s name was Bostanji, and every night while Bostanji was doing his rounds, he opened the door to the treasure room.
Bostanji stared at the precious stones.
Bostanji said, “The Sultan, with these precious stones piled so high, would never could never notice if I took just a few for myself.”
You see where this is going, I assume.
Morning dawns and so I break off from what I’ve been allowed to say. My story will be continued later…
The Jewels of Naz: