Arabian Nights

C h a p t e r 10

Makoa and His Horse

THE THIRTY-SIXTH NIGHT

The following night, when Scheherazade was in bed, her sister Dinarzad said, “Please sister, tell us one of you lovely little tales.” The king added, “Let it be the most amazing tale yet.” Scheherazade replied, “As you wish!”

It is said, O King, that there once lived a man and husband, named Bassam. One day he went out to hunt in a jungle. He had found a deer and then it ran off, not giving him enough time to kill it. He turned around. Bassam said to himself, “I have enough.” He went jogging in the direction he thought he’d come. “Wait, where am I?” he muttered to himself. Bassam heard crunching leaves and wondered if there was some sort of monster awaiting him. Out of the corner of his eye appeared a soldier riding on a great, big, muscular, black warhorse.

The man approached Bassam saying, “Who is there! Present yourself to me!” Bassam did as he was commanded, relieved that it was a man, not a demon. “Who DARES to come into the jungle of the demon?!”

“What do you mean, kindly Sir.?” stated Bassam. “Aren’t demons a legend?”

“Not the slightest bit. Why else would I be patrolling these narrow walkways? We don’t need more people scared of this jungle.” stated Makoa.

“Interesting. Are you alone?” Bassam questioned intently.

“No. It would be extremely lonely without a amazing friend to talk to.”

“What friend? I see no friend of yours,” replied Bassam.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Let me introduce you to my good friend, The Knowledgeable Horse. He is a horse with a brain like a human’s. He can even talk!” replied Makoa, referring to the strong, black horse whose eyes glowed with pride. When he heard his name called he stood up perfectly straight like a soilder. “What is your name. May I speak it?”

“Yes. It is Bassam. And yours?” Bassam said more and more intrigued.

“It is General Makoa, but you may call me Makoa, my friend.”

Bassam was thrilled with that answer, “You can call me friend, too,” he replied with red, rosy cheeks.

. . .

“Let’s find a place to sleep, I’m tired,” yawned Bassam while the sun was setting behind him. The sky was a hazy medium blue with pink cotton fluff floating in perfect sync around the trees above him. The sun was casting a warm orange glow that made a nice warm feeling travel through him. It was the perfect night- if only he could be with his wife… “My wife!” he thought to himself as he started sobbing.

“What is the matter, my dear friend?” questioned Makoa.

“My wife!” cried Bassam through sobs. “She must think I’m dead by now!”

“It’s okay,” responded Makoa, trying to calm him down while getting off his mount. “We’ll rest until morning in this cave and then we’ll make our way back to your village.” When the two friends settled down, they went to sleep in their make-shift home for the night.

. . .

“Wha-wha- what’s that?” whispered Bassam. A red, gleaming giant fire-man-demon was hovering over him with a fireball aimed at him. “Holy-” The demon cut the man off when he teleported himself and Bassam away from the cave, to an open space surrounded with trees.

“WHO DARES INVADE MY JUNGLE! YOU HAVE CAUSED DISGRACE TO ME! NOW, YOU WILL PAY!” roared the demon.

“My wife,” he sobbed, “My daughters,” Bassam cried. ”Please don’t kill me,” he called to the demon through tears.

“Fine,” the demon shouted so he was heard. His eyes were ignited with fire as if it was a wildfire that couldn’t burn out, and his head was like a campfire too. He looked unbeatable at 10 feet tall with a steel 8-pack and broad shoulders. “I will give you until the stroke of midnight to find your friend and his horse. If the horse can tell a decent story, you will be free to leave and I will show you the way to that little village of yours. If the horse can’t!-” He said as he set his hands alight, “You will be burned to death!”

The demon disappeared and Bassam was put right back where he was. “I should’ve listened to General Makoa in the first place.” he thought before falling asleep paralyzed with fear.

. . .

When Bassam woke up he saw no demon nor Makoa over him. “Where is Makoa?” he thought to himself. He got up and looked outside for Makoa and The Knowledgeable Horse. Bassam wandered around and before long he was lost. “Where am I!” he cried out hoping someone would hear him, and someone did.

But morning drew near Scheherazade, and she fell silent. Dinarzad said to her sister, “Sister, what an amazing story!” Scheherazade replied, “It’s nothing compared with what I will tell you tomorrow if the king lets me live.”

THE THIRTY-SEVENTH NIGHT

It is said, O King, that the person who had heard him was not the person he had wanted to hear him, for it was the demon. “You have 12 hours left, how is it going? Are you prepared to die?” the fiery-demon declared.

“Not yet,” replied Bassam with faith in his new friend and his horse.

The demon vanished. Bassam, not knowing where the demon was lurking, went off to find his friend.

. . .

After hours of walking, “Finally!” thought Bassam as he saw the black, swishing tail of a horse. It could only be his friend’s Arabian Horse, The Knowledgeable Horse.

“Makoa?” exclaimed Bassam.

“Why yes, it is me! Is that you Bassam?” replied Makoa.

“Yes! I am Bassam! I was looking all over for you! Where were you! I have so much important information to talk to you about,” said Bassam. “It’s about the demon.”

THE THIRTY-EIGHTH NIGHT

It is said, O King, that once Bassam and Makoa settled in Bassam explained about the demon and everything that had happened, and in return, Makoa explained how he had gone to find fruits and was worried sick when Bassam had not been there when he returned. The two were reunited and could only wait for the demon.

. . .

When midnight came there was the pound of thunder and suddenly a fiery figure appeared. It was the demon on fire. He clapped once and a fire throne appeared and he sat on it, waiting for the story. Bassam told the horse what he had to do and then The Knowledgeable Horse stood up on hind legs to present his speech. He told a story of an evil sultan who had captured a beautiful princess from another land. The sultan tried to make her his bride but a ferocious and fiery demon named Verizon came to stop him. The demon wanted the princess for himself. When the sultan said no, the frustrated demon threw a fireball at him and he burned to death. When the demon got to his hiding spot with the princess, there was a big, brave, strong, loyal, and kind-hearted soldier waiting for her. He was armed with his sword and his integrity, and he battled with the demon until he had won, for the princess had been saved. He led her out, and she was greeted by her father, who hugged her with joy. The brave soldier married the princess and they lived peacefully for many years, until their time on earth had served it’s purpose.

“I am impressed,” the demon started, “With the effort of the horse to tell such an elaborate story. I could never imagine! A horse talking! You may go, and I will lead you home.”

. . .

Half an hour later, Bassam returned home with Makoa and The Knowledgeable Horse. He told his wife and daughters the whole story, and soon was invited to tell the king. The king threw a giant feast in honor of Bassam. Bassam lived happily until the day he was destined to die, with Makoa and Makoa’s horse as friends the whole time.