John sat on the rock, surfing through the pages of Ibn Battuta's life and journey.
He read the first lines slowly:
"Ibn Battuta. Born 1304, Tangier. Left home at 21 for a short pilgrimage. Did not return for 29 years. 75,000 miles. 44 countries. He did not conquer. He connected."
John stared at that last line for a long moment.
Then the desert hit him.
As John started reading, suddenly he felt the sand hitting him from side to side, the sun burning. When he closed his eyes, he visualized himself walking in a desert, a figure walking in front of him with a green and red veil covering his head and mouth, protection from the sun and flying sand.
"GET YOURSELF READY! WE ARE HEADING WEST. IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG JOURNEY!" Ibn Battuta yelled, the sand and wind covering most of the sound.
John struggled to pull his legs as he walked, following him. Suddenly, while walking, he got stuck.
His legs sank into the sand. In an instant, Ibn Battuta took a rope hidden in his robe and threw it to John.
"GRAB IT BEFORE YOU GET SENT TO YOUR CREATOR!"
John reached out for the rope, grabbing it with a strong grip, and with one single swipe, he got out.
While recovering, John watched Ibn Battuta walking away, avoiding all the moving sand and guiding his way through the emptiness of the desert with such expertise.
"Gotta learn that," John whispered, dusting himself off.
As John rushed to catch up, Ibn Battuta said, "Watch your steps. I'm not that far from you to lose me in this emptiness."
Listening to his words, John slowed his pace just enough to watch him carefully.
Five hours passed. John started to feel dizzy. His mouth tasted like sand. His legs had stopped feeling heavy an hour ago, which he was pretty sure wasn't a good sign. As he picked his eyes up, he saw Ibn Battuta walking flawlessly — same pace, same posture — hadn't touched his water once.
On the horizon, the sun set in warm orange, reddish, and yellow lights, a beautiful scene that made John forget to walk for a full three seconds.
"The night in the desert is more dangerous than the daytime," Ibn Battuta said. "We are going to camp when we find solid ground. We must find one fast." He picked up his pace, scanning the ground.
One hour passed in the last breath of daylight. Ibn Battuta stopped and stomped the ground, finding solid ground. As he did, he fell down, sitting on the ground, pulling out his lamp and setting it in the middle, opening its lid. With one swift motion, Ibn Battuta hit two rocks together, turning on the lamp. He took off his veil and took a breath.
John followed him, putting down his stuff, sitting in front of him, observing.
"How could you get the lamp on with two rocks that fast?" John asked.
"By time, you will do it too." He tossed the two rocks. "Go gentle. Don't break them. Make it flicker."
John grabbed them and started practicing.
Forty minutes passed — enough for John to make the two rocks flicker with each hit.
The night was at its fullest. The sky had no clouds, allowing the perfect view of stars with their colors. As John checked his surroundings, he couldn't help but notice a light flickering in the far distance. As he tried to focus on it while pointing, Ibn Battuta cut him off.
"Don't you even think about pointing at them or looking at them. Focus back on me here," he said calmly.
In confusion, John looked back at him. "They could need help."
"They definitely don't need our help. Those are called Abou Fanous. They lure night travelers to their doom."
John's skin spiked up hearing his words. His body fell cold instantly. He laid down on the sand. "I… I think I'm gonna try to sleep early tonight."
A few minutes later, John flipped to face him. "Are ghosts real?"
Ibn Battuta looked at him for a while, then looked up at the sky. "Yes." One word.
John shivered in the same moment, feeling the chills. Ibn Battuta noticed him and laughed for the first time. "Don't worry, kid. They've always existed with us. They didn't harm you then when you were clueless, and they won't harm you now unless you look for them. Like you were going to do with the Abou Fanous."
Then he added: "Those aren't ghosts. Those are so-called jinn. They live, eat, walk, talk among us, but we can't see them except in special situations, or if we harm them first. And enough talking about them right now. Go sleep. Tomorrow we will talk. Now rest — you need it."
Following his words, John closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep. But how could he after what he heard? He opened his eyes to the distance and saw the lights multiplying, some moving around, which rendered him frozen in shock.
"Don't worry. Allah will protect us. They tend to move around, and they are many, but they are harmless if you ignore them."
Hearing that, John tucked his head under his cover and forced himself to sleep.
With his eyes closed, he picked up footsteps coming from behind him, sending shivers to his core. He couldn't take a breath. Then a push from behind jump-scared him. As he turned around, he saw Leo, worried.
"You okay? You look like you've seen a monster. Sorry for scaring you. But Mom is looking for you — dinner's ready."
John took a deep breath, lifting his head and checking his surroundings. Blue sky. Clouds. The middle of the forest. All of it reassuring him.
"I'm sorry. I was so deep in my book. Let's go eat. We don't want to make Mom mad, after all."
He jumped off the rock and walked beside Leo back home, thinking about what he just lived.