Frozen with a mix of fear and excitement, the man stood rigidly eyes fixed on the effervescent spirit before him.

"Aufhmfkkggg....errr."

He murmered and choked, looking down at the old brass lamp. He rubbed it for a laugh alone in the darkness of some abandoned house. It was warmer than outside, and he had been down on his luck a long time. He wanted a better life and peace from his disturbed mind. When he found the lamp, he chuckled, smiling like a kid in a cereal commercial. He rubbed it like Vana White and gestured jokingly. But now a smoky figure loomed overhead its eyes glowing red in the dark.

"Yesssss"

It hissed. It's foggy form changing shape as its voice slithered into Fred's ears. Its tone was deep and soothing.

"For whattttt do you wishhhhh?"

The genie floated down to eye level with Fred, red embers burning into his soul.

"This is real?"

He questioned as if this was some delusion or psychosis unprocessed. He stepped back desperately, scanning for some lucid dreaming talisman to prove to him it was a night terror, but he soon realized he was painfully awake.

The genre's eyes flared, and it asked again:

"For whaattttt do you wisshhhhh?"

"Can we talk first?"

Fred asked weary to take on this seemingly demonic entity in some strangers abandoned property. Like where do genies come from? And should anyone participate in wishes?

The Genies eyes cooled to a dull orange, and it's mist flowed outward as if to relax.

"Let ussss talk."

It hissed harshly but not out of animosity. It almost seemed like speaking was strenuous for it.

"Uhm...so what's your name?"

Fred looked toward the shadow with genuine intrigue.

"I'mm called nothinnnng."

"I'm sorry, I just want to know what you think of this whole wish business, and if it's a good idea."

Fred sighed and flopped onto the dusty, lumpy armchair, the sound of plastic ripping as he got comfortable.

"You know I don't even know who I am anymore, and you're a talking horror cloud, am I awake? Maybe it's the acid from years ago in my spine or whatever, or maybe you're going to curse me? Where did you even come from? ...I'm sorry... you're making me nervous."

Fred gulped, trying to sop up his word vomit. Still astonished at the idea, this could be real.

"I am the granterrrr of wishhhhessss or curssesss, itssss up to youuuu. Magic thisss painful mussst be badddd."

"Painful?" Fred asked, looking into the eyes of the thing.

"Yesss, each second outside the lamp ffeeels like burning aliiiive. I, too, do not know who I amm therefore, I do not knowww where I caame fromm."

He growled in agony hovering close to Fred.

"I didn't know! What should I wish for? I know what pain feels like and I don't wish it on my enemy. How can we both get better?"

Fred didn't mean the pun but he was so sick of being beaten broken and on the bottom. He never wanted revenge or resurrection he just wanted to feel okay and for everyone else to feel okay too. He was too tired to hate or lust for power.

"Wee can make it endd. You wishhhh, I grannnt."

The genie flickered, and its eyes surged with amber undertones.

"Wish for what!?"

Fred panicked looking to grab on to the intangible form.

"How do I fix it!? How do I fix us?"

"Wishhh."

The genie coughed. It's ability to speak was so diminished now. It whispered, wish a few more times before falling silent.

"I wish neither of us were in pain anymore!"

Fred yelped nervously jumping up from the old chair and almost lunging at the genie.

As Fred stood upright he noticed it was daytime. The attic was now clean and full of holiday storage. The old chair was a box labeled "easter." He looked down at the brass lamp in his hands it was polished and new. He saw no one else in the attic so he climbed down the ladder. The house was furnished and lived in with working utilities. Fred smelled something cooking and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped to glance at himself in the hall mirror. His skin was clear, his hair combed and beard shaven. He realized he was wearing clean clothes.

"Hello?"

He called out confused. There was no reply.

Inside the kitchen he saw a crock pot stewing supper and the refrigerator was full of groceries. Fred worried he fell asleep and found himself in someone else's house. But how? Where is the genie?

"Hello?"

He called again awkwardly. Turning toward the dining room he noticed a photo on the counter of him with a few other guys posing at some event. Fred was Kempt and happy in the photo. A small pile of bills on the table read Fred's name. He quickly pieced together that this was his house, his attic, his life back on track.

Fred ran to the ladder and back to the attic to inspect the lamp. It was just metal. No amount of rubbing produced any smoke. Was any of it real?