Famke struggled along the beach. The going was tough as the fierce gusts of north-western wind blew sand into her face, the tiny grains stinging her skin and nearly blinding her. She was cold and her feet were sore from trudging across the dunes and the vast expanse of the beach, but she dared not go back yet. Her stepfather would expect her to come home with at least one bale of goods from the ship that was wrecked last night.
With a shiver Famke remembered his greedy look when the alarm had sounded. Every able-bodied man that lived near the lighthouse rushed out to team up the horses and launch the rescue boat, whenever the bell tolled. But not him. Her stepfather was not from the island and most people shunned Simon. Simon the Sneak, they called him behind his back.
Not that the islanders weren't on the beach today. All families were out, combing the beaches. It was part of living on the island. The men all felt they were entitled to some compensation for risking their lives first. Unlike Simon, who never lifted so much as a finger when a ship was in trouble. In fact, he never did anything. Famke heaved a sigh. The only thing he ever moved was his bottle of gin.
The tall girl squinted against the glare of the sun on the waves. In the distance she could make out some dark shape. It looked like a crate or something and she hurried along, glancing back to see if anybody else had spotted the object.
Famke inspected the crate and thanked her good fortune she'd found one still unbroken. She couldn't read the lettering on the side, but thought it looked like Russian. Maybe it was vodka. Simon would like that. As she bent over to lift the crate, something half-buried in the sand caught her eye. To her surprise it was a gold ring with a big, glittering stone. It looked beautiful and she slipped the ring on her finger, just to see how it would look on her. With her hand outstretched she admired the ring and its amber stone. She touched the ring in admiration, but all too soon she remembered she had to get back.
It wouldn't do to let her stepfather see the ring on her finger. He'd be furious if he found out she had been mucking about with his merchandise. Although the ring had slipped onto her finger easily enough, she couldn't get it off again. Famke tugged in panic but all she accomplished was a red and painful finger. Twisting the ring this way and that, she felt a sudden warmth and with her mouth wide open she saw a woman forming in front of her.
"Yes, Mistress? What can I do for you?"
"Who? How?" Famke stuttered as she looked at the delicate figure dressed in gauzy veils that seemed much too thin for the cold spring day.
"I'm Laresa. Your genie, Mistress."
"Genie? As in Aladdin?"
Laresa nodded and smiled. "Yes, except that I live in the ring. Shall I give you the rules?"
"Rules?" Famke sat down on the crate, no longer worried about it being damaged or not. "You mean you're a spirit? And you can do things for me?"
The petite woman nodded, her white-blond hair flying around her head as the wind caught her tresses. Her sparkling eyes had the color of the sea, changing from grey to green to blue and Famke even saw a hint of violet in them.
"Actually, a genie, or you can call me a djinn. And yes, I can fulfill most of your wishes."
Famke giggled with nerves. "A fairy tale genie! I guess I better think carefully about my three wishes, then?"
"No, Mistress. There are limits, but you can wish as often as you want to."
Famke was quick to decide. "Get that ring off my finger first, then. My stepfather will kill me if he sees me wearing it."
Laresa smiled a bit sadly. "Are you sure, Mistress? The ring is yours as long as you keep to the rules or until you lose it."
"No! I have to get it off. I have to." Famke felt the panic rising again. "You don't understand; he'll be so angry. What am I to do?" She started tugging at the ring again, but it was stuck on her finger. "I wish I was a thousand years away."
Still trying the move the ring, Famke felt dizzy and for a moment she thought the world was swirling around her. She blinked her eyes and looked at the genie. Laresa was smiling broadly, sweeping a bow as she gestured towards the sea and the beach.
"Your command, Mistress."
Famke frowned. She wanted to ask the genie what she meant, but she felt something odd. She looked down and saw her clothes were gone. Instead of her skirts and boots, she was wearing a long piece of cloth, cinched at the waist with a belt. And her feet! They were encased in soft leather coverings. Besides that, she was lacking any underwear as well. She jumped up and looked around. The crate was gone; replaced by a piece of driftwood. The beach looked strange too. It was as if she was much closer to the tip of the island.
With a hand above her eyes she gazed out at the clearly visible sandbanks. They should have been a lot farther out to sea; not this close. Famke turned around to look at the dunes and back at the tiny figures of the others who were combing the beach, but there was no one there. The dunes were different too, closer. The beach seemed less broad.
"What have you done?" Famke looked at the smug genie.
"You asked, so I brought you a thousand years away."
"A thousand years away? You mean ... what year is this?" Famke was getting a horrible suspicion as she looked at her changed clothes again.
"Uh, well, I think I was too quick. It's a little more than a thousand years." The genie actually blushed. "It's the year 835. But the place is the same."
"835? Oh, my god. That's the Middle Ages. Well, almost." Famke sat down again. Her legs were trembling so much she was afraid she'd fall.
"It's what you said." The genie sounded defensive, perhaps even hurt.
"I know, but I didn't mean it."
"I can take you back, if you wish, Mistress."
