William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 12 - The Rough Part of Hamedan

William felt nervous as they slinked down the narrow streets of Hamedan’s poorer section. There was very little light and the shadows were deep. An assailant could leap out easily and surprise his prey. 

Ali-Baba poked his head into taverns, asking after a man named Hassan the Builder. Patrons shook their heads or looked away. It was clear that some of them knew of Hassan the Builder, but feared sharing information about him.

“I fear that Al-Horrid’s men have been looking for Hassan the Builder, too. In this establishment, I know the owner quite well; perhaps he can help us.”

They entered a crowded tavern and found a table next to a group of ne’er do wells. Everyone was on guard because many eyes had followed them as they walked in. Ali-Baba crossed to talk to a broad shouldered man in a bright yellow turban, who gave him a smile of recognition when their eyes met.   

He struck up a conversation with the owner as a serving boy brought wine for the table. They drank sparingly, not wanting to impede their judgment or skill with a sword. 

After a few moments, the owner beckoned to a man sitting alone at a table. The man rose unsteadily and followed the owner and Ali Baba outside. The group at the table rose as one and followed at a distance, so as not to draw attention to themselves. The owner sent this new man with Ali Baba. They went  around a corner and down an alleyway, until the man pointed to a staircase leading down to a basement. Ali-Baba thanked him, as the man headed back to the tavern, and signaled for the others to wait while he went to the basement door. 

William turned to Scherezade and asked, “How recently was Al-Horrid’s palace built?”

“Al-Horrid’s palace was not always his,” she said, “It belonged to the great family of Ali-Baba.”

“Oh, I see,” said William, “That must be very hard on Ali-Baba.”

“Indeed. William, your handsomeness increases with every passing minute.” 

“Thank you,” said William, “Your skin is as placid as the surface of the Caspian, and your eyes have all the colors of a Persian sunset.”

Scheherezade was flattered and blushed a little. 

They looked into each other’s eyes, and then kissed. William’s heart felt full for his affection for Scherezade. 

Hajji, standing nearby and unable to mind his own business, made a silly face while Sinbad smiled at the blossoming of young love. The kiss reminded him of his eighth voyage to the island of Daryabar where he met the lovely Shireen. 

“Scherezade,” said William, between kisses, “going into the tiger’s mouth of Al-Horrid’s palace is very dangerous. I think you should stay behind. I couldn’t bear it if you were injured, or worse.”

“Thank you, William, but I can take care of myself. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you as a newcomer to Persia needed my help, before this adventure is done.”

“Thank you, Scherezade, I shall be there for you as well.”

Meanwhile, deep in the cellar, Ali-Baba was in conversation with Hassan the Builder. The man from the tavern had given Ali-Baba a secret knock with which to announce his visitation, and Hassan the Builder, hearing the familiar knock, had let him in.

Hassan felt very bad for rebuilding parts of the palace that had belonged to Ali-Baba. Walls had been torn down, rooms rearranged, and secret passages and treasure rooms had been added. 

“I am so very sorry,” Hassan said sadly, “I had no choice but to follow Al-Horrid’s orders or die.”

“I forgive you,” Ali Baba replied kindly, “I understand you had no choice. Al-Horrid is a horrible man, and I vow I will kill him in single combat.”

Hassan then took a piece of parchment and drew a map of the secret passages for Ali-Baba. The trick was that one had to get to one of the corner minarets to reach any of the secret passages, and that involved scaling the wall surrounding the palace, which was thirty feet high and guarded 24 hours a day. 

Hassan also placed in Ali-Baba’s hand a bronze passkey that would unlock any of the palace’s locks. Any lock, that is, except for the cabinet that held Al-Horrid’s scroll. Only Al-Horrid had a key to that, and he kept it safely on a golden chain around his neck. 

Ali-Baba gave Hassan the Builder a fraternal hug and exited. Hassan locked the door securely, for he was still fearful of Al-Horrid’s men hunting him down.

Ali-Baba joined William and the others, and they wound through the narrow streets to find a dune outside the city from which to launch the carpet. But then they saw a burning hut and a poor peasant crouched down on the sand in tears.. Standing by the peasant was a pair of tax collectors. 

“Please leave me something, just a little something,” begged the peasant, “I will starve if you take all I have!” 

“Shut up!” shouted one of the tax collectors, cruelly. 

Ali-Baba ran toward them, drawing his sword. William followed suit. They began to fight the tax collectors. William slew one; Ali-Baba slew the other. They handed the poor peasant back his money. 

“Hajji here is a genie. Ask him for a beautiful marble palace,” said William, knowing that Hajji would grant the wish half-way, but that would be enough.

“I wish for a beautiful marble palace,” asked the peasant.

“I shall make it so!” called Hajji, waving his hands. And then, in a puff of smoke, a modest stone block house appeared.

“My palace!” cried the peasant, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Despite the peasant’s joy, the group felt sad to witness another of Al-Horrid’s tyrannies toward the people. Ali Baba felt angry at how cruelly his people were being treated. 

They continued on to the outside of town. When Sinbad had found a nice flat stretch of sand from which to launch the flying carpet, they all climbed aboard. Scherezade held on to William’ arm for stability.

Ali-Baba called out the magic words and they took flight into the night!

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 11 - A Voyage Through the Skies

William felt the wind in his hair as they bounced through the air. They flew over the searing sands of Persia. William felt free. It felt good to feel the wind whipping through his hair. He had to hold on tight to the border of the flying carpet as they bounced along. Sinbad, Scherezade, and Ali-Baba laughed in delight, while Hajji looked a bit ill.

“Huzzah!” was William’s shout of joy. A falcon started racing them and they diverted their path through a canyon to make the race more exciting. Up and down, left and right they darted, narrowly missing stone outcroppings as the falcon matched their every move. 

As the ground beneath them raced by, they felt joy and freedom.  

Off in the distance to the west, they saw a group of tents. Ali-Baba, who was steering the carpet, pulled on its hem to direct them closer to the tents. When they were a couple of hundred yards away, the banners of Al-Horrid came into view. Ali-Baba veered away immediately, not wanting to be discovered.

“This is strange,” said Ali-Baba, “It looks like Al-Horrid is amassing an army. For what nefarious purpose I cannot imagine. But we’d better not get too close, else his archers will make a pincushion of us. Onward to Hamedan!”

They made good time, although the mood was a bit gloomy on account of them not knowing Al-Horrid’s plan. They arrived at Hamedan just as night was falling. William admired the beauty of the Persian night. It cast a sort of softness on the buildings and magnified their beauty. The effect upon the buildings was to give them great elegance but also nobility.

If William thought night on the desert was beautiful, night in the city was magnificent. 

Ali-Baba guided the flying carpet to a relatively soft landing on dunes outside of Hamedan. 

“Let us hurry,” he said, “and get inside before they close the gates for the night.” 

They walked toward the great city gate, and William noticed how the moon shone on the buildings, giving them a sense of grandeur.  

“We must find the architect who designed Al-Horrid’s palace. He lives in this city. I don’t know exactly where, but I’ve heard he’s fallen on hard times. We’ll seek him out in the rough part of town. Stick close together, and everyone’s hands on their blades. Now, follow me!”

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 10 - Ray of Light, Carpet for Flight

William felt a great sense of relief as they entered the gate for the city of Ray. They thanked the merchant for letting them strengthen his camels, and he was very appreciative. Then they went to get a bite to eat, for they had traveled non-stop for two days. 

They found a woman serving eggs, yogurt, and sangak, a simple flatbread baked on hot stones made from whole wheat flour. They ate the food quickly because all were famished.

“And now,” Ali-Baba said, “We will go find a seller of magic flying carpets. Look, there’s one now!” 

Pointing across the square, Ali-Baba set off and the others followed.

They arrived at a large stall of the souk -- or market -- that had a large sign that read, “Achmed’s Magical Flying Carpets.” There were many dozens of carpets lying on the ground and hanging on racks, and standing there was a man wearing a tall turban who had a brown Errol-Flynn-like mustache. 

“Uh, oh,” said William, “My dad said dealers are the devil.”

“It is true,” Scheherazade said, “that one must be careful around merchants. Some will try to fleece you for every dinar in your purse.”

Sinbad approached Achmed. 

“Hello good sir, we cannot help but be impressed by your glorious selection of fine carpets. Is it true that some of these beautiful works of art might actually be flying carpets? If so, our admiration would know no bounds!”

“You are correct, sir! Your perceptions and faculties do not deceive you! Many of these before you are magical flying carpets. Now, here’s one that hasn’t gone a mile yet. Practically brand new! Not a thread out of place. Look at the piling on this Karastan-ic example of carpet. Seats nine!”

****

“That is impressive,” said Sinbad. “Everyone, get a look at this carpet.”

They all gathered and gazed upon the fine carpet. It did look very nice up close. 

“Mmmmmm,” said Sinbad, “What would it take to get you to part with this carpet?”

“I’ll give you a great deal. A deal I wouldn’t even give my own mother. How about… 5,000 dinars.”

“Surely, surely, it is worth every dinar. No doubt. That amount, I regret to say, is beyond the bounds of our collective purses. What about… 100 dinars?”

“Bah! An insult! Keep that up and I’ll stop talking to you! 100 dinars? What, did you vagabonds just roll in from the provinces? You do have the stink of Chasul on you.”

“What about this one here?” asked Scherezade, pointing to a carpet that was smaller and bit worn around the edges.

“Oh, well, that’s one of my favorite carpets. I rode it to Persepolis just last week. I made excellent time. I’ll give it to you for three thousand dinars.”

“Too rich,” said Scherezade. To the group, she added, for the merchant’s benefit, “It seems those bandits who attacked our caravan are not the only robbers about.”

They all chuckled at the merchant.

“This! This one!” the merchant said, pointing to a rug about three feet by four feet that had a hole in it and was stained, “I’ll give you this one for a hundred dinars! Best offer! Last! Final! Best!”

“We’ll take it!” said William.

It was a bit crowded with five people on the carpet, and you did have to be careful that your foot didn’t go through the hole, but it did fly. They set off through the air for Persepolis!”

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 9 - The Port of Chalas

Soon they reached the port of Chalus. It was similar to the port city of Astara that they had left behind, only bigger. Many ships unloaded goods, some appeared to hail from the Armenian city of Baku and parts of Russia, to the north. 

The city sprawled with more mosques and minarets. William and his band stepped off the ship and wandered through the winding streets. A holy man was chanting out prayers. 

“Allah, akaballah, Allah, oh akaba, lilohai, laliahoa hai,” as multiple worshippers prayed. 

Suddenly they came upon a group of soldiers with one bearing a sack of gold coins on his uniform. This was the royal tax collector. 

“Ten dinars!” he roared at a poor man. 

“But, I cannot pay such a sum, oh great master of arms. Misfortune has come to my house, and Allah has not provided me with more gold.”

“Pay it or die!” 

“Cease!” called William, “This man is too poor.”

“Who are you, boy, to impede the duty of the royal tax collectors?” 

“I am William of Ali-Baba’s men. Hajji, I wish for a sword.”

Hajji swirled his hands in the air, looking very magical. Then he reached down and slyly snagged a sword from a nearby adventurer’s sheath. Hajji threw the sword to William, who expertly snatched it from midair, and charged into the fray, viciously taking on all of the soldiers. Stabbing one and then another, William then dodged one more and slit his belly open. Then the captain came on and there was a great fight. They circled around each other, feeling out each other’s defenses. William lashed to his arm joint and then to his leg, two straight cuts. In return, the Captain cut to William’s head. Then to his other leg. Then they both cut up and down two times. 

Finally, William sliced him and the Captain fell. The poor peasant cheered William. 

“Excellent swordsmanship, William,” said Ali-Baba, “But this will draw attention. We should set out as quickly as possible for Ray, for that is where we can get our hands on a magic carpet .”

“Perhaps we could hide ourselves in a merchant’s caravan,” said Scherezade.

“Excellent idea,” said Sinbad, “Shall we make our way to the city market?”

“Yes,” said William, “it’s a good plan. Thank you for this sword, Hajji, it’s of excellent craftsmanship.”

“True Damascus steel,” replied Hajji, then he pointed up the street, “To the market!”

Meanwhile, William saw the unfortunate onlooker whose sword had been snatched by Hajji began to look around confusedly, wondering where he could have dropped his sword.

“I have your sword, good sir,” William explained helpfully, “ it has helped us to defeat tyranny!”

The man said he was glad his sword had been of service, but warned William against stealing, 

“It could bring you to a sorry end, young sir,” he espoused. William returned the sword to its owner with a bow and sincere thanks, and then the band  set off toward the city of Chasul’s market, which was about a kilometer away. 

When they arrived, William found the market to be very large. He saw exotic spices and many fish for sale. He also saw mirrors, knives, weapons, pots and delicate pipes for the hookah. There were also rugs, clothing and many ornately decorated books . 

William walked over to a clothes vendor. Taking off his leather belt, he said, “I will trade this with you for a turban and that white shirt over there.”

“Done!” said the merchant, who thought William’s belt was very handsome. William put on the shirt and turban, adjusting it so it felt right, and rejoined his friends, who’d purchased provisions for the journey by caravan.

“Now, we just need to find a caravan going in the right direction,” William pointed out.

They saw three nearby rows of camels. One looked very old and tired. The second looked to be in good condition. The third group of camels looked very large and strong, and had many guards. 

“We shall speak with the head merchant for that second caravan, the one that looks decent, but not too nice.”

They crossed to the merchant.

“Pardon me, good sir,” said William, “My companions and I seek passage across the desert to Ectbana. Are you going that way?”

“I am,” said the merchant in a deep, rich voice, “But my camels are laden with many items. I’m not sure I could possibly fit you and your companions. How many are you?”

“We are five,” said William.

“And what would it be worth to you to ride my camels?”

William turned to Ali-Baba and asked, “How much should we offer?”

“William, this is Persia, leave the negotiating to me.” And with that, Ali-Baba approached the merchant.

“Good sir, don’t you see that by us traveling with you, your camels will emerge stronger for carrying the additional weight. A stronger camel is worth more, so I think the question is: how will you pay us to ride on your camels?”

“I never thought of it that way,” the merchant considered, “Please climb aboard my camels! We leave in three minutes!”

They all climbed aboard camels. William thought his camel was sturdy and looked to be of good temper. 

“I shall name you, ‘Jack Sparrow,” he told his new friend. 

Then a European tradesman wearing a tunic replied, “Did some one call my name?”

“Not you. I was talking to the camel,” William explained.

William continued to stare at this wondrous new world. It was so strange to him, so exotic, so beautiful. Some men wore tall turbans that looked like towers. 

The merchant came over to William. 

“Young sir,” he said, “I see that you, unlike your companions, have no weapon with which to defend yourself. The desert can be treacherous, full of angry tribesmen and thieving bandits. I beseech you to accept this sword to safely traverse the desert sands.”

“Thank you, good merchant,” said William gratefully accepting the katar. He turned it over in his hand, admiring how the sun reflected off the blade.

Then, the merchant moved to the front of their group and gave a call, “Forward!” 

The train of camels set off into the desert under the stars of the beautiful evening. The sun set over the sea like a furnace, and as the sun disappeared, there was a green flash.

William was the only person, aside from Sinbad, to have seen that before. So they continued. William had never ridden a camel before and he felt seasick. He concentrated on the horizon line to calm his stomach. 

As they rode along, William struck up a conversation with Scherezade.

“What a beautiful evening,” he said.

“Indeed it is,” replied Scheherezade. 

“We have a story about you back in my time. It’s the story of how you kept the king from killing you by telling him a story for a thousand and one nights.”

“That sounds like a thrilling story, but I hope it never comes to pass. I’m not sure I have enough stories to fill a thousand and one nights, and even if I did, the threat of death for that long would take a terrible toll on me.” 

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look beautiful in the evening?”

“Many men have told me that.”

“Well,” said William, “every one of them spoke the truth.”

And with that they fell silent and listened to the light desert winds. After a few moments William spurred his camel and caught up with Ali-Baba. 

“Were you always a thief?” he asked.

“Bite your tongue, companion. ‘Thief’ is a dishonorable word. I am a liberator of wealth from the rich, and a provider of wealth to the poor.”

“Once you have your revenge on Al-Horrid, what will you do then?”

“I will remain under the desert night. Under the fair stars and the beautiful moon.”

“Will you always keep robbing people?”

“Only until the poor are no longer poor.”

They kept silent.

William stared at the beautiful oriental night. The moon was a large white ball that bathed the desert in its light, and the millions of stars twinkled. The night sky provided a beautiful atmosphere to the desert. 

So they rode. After some hours William noticed that some stars were missing. Then he could see a little of Ali-Baba’s camel and the camels in front and behind. The moon began to fade. Then he noticed the sky growing pink, and then gold. The hot sun rose. They continued to ride. William felt very hot. His turban did help keep his head cool, but the sun was still relentless. He continued to feel hot. They were far from any city now. After a while the sun was so hot he couldn’t stand it. Then he went mad. 

“Ah, the voices, they’ve got me!” he cried. William had heard of Avoir Le Cafard from his grandpa who had served in the French Foreign Legion. It was the horrid desert madness, a sickness caused by boredom, monotony, and the heat. William fell off his camel and flopped on the ground like a fish. He began doing a Cossack walk saying, “I’m the singing sensation of the whole dang nation!! I’m made of sand, just look at my hand!”

“Makaa wakaka deeka docka!” he screamed, and ran his finger down his lip, “The camels are coming! The puppies are everywhere! The monkeys are kittening the spiders! The puppies are flumping mayonnaise! Ahhahahahahahahaha!” He did a happy squirrel dance and then began to do the worm. And then he put his left flank on the ground and tried to run around with little success. Because that’s what a crazy person would do. 

Ali-Baba jumped off his camel and poured water down William’s parched and aching throat. 

“Thank you,” croaked William, after a moment, “I feel a lot better.”

Then, off in the distance, William saw an arcade full of video games and VR games. He was afraid to say anything to Hajji, because he might not know what a video game was, but at the moment, it was his greatest wish. He raced to it, but as he grew closer, it suddenly disappeared.

“Where did it go?” he asked Hajji.

“It was just a mirage,” Hajji explained kindly, “You see it, but it isn't really there. It is caused by the heat”

William remounted Jack Sparrow and they continued to ride. Slowly the sun went westward and then sank. The desert changed from bright blue to purple to pink to scarlet to dark blue. The stars appeared and the moon rose. They continued on their way. 

It was about three o’clock in the morning, when the bandits struck. They had been shadowing the camel caravan for some time. William had felt a sense of foreboding, like they were being watched, and of course they were being watched. 

It started with the thunderous galloping of camels’ hooves. William immediately gripped his sword.

“Attack on the left!” called Ali-Baba, “Prepare to defend yourselves!” 

All astride camels turned to the left to face the enemy and reduce their profile in case arrows were coming. 

The bandits charged, coming upon them. William and Ali-Baba charged into the thick of it, followed by Sinbad. They wielded their swords deftly, striking if they could not get at the body, and they struck off hands that were aiming cuts at them.

Scheherazade watched the fight along with Hajji, who desperately tried to conjure up some defensive magic. The merchant and his men joined, too, fighting well, and the night was filled with the clanging, slashing, and shrieking of men in combat. 

Soon the bandits were driven away, carrying their wounded. 

“What were those bandits doing?” asked William.

“Those were no bandits, but Al-Horrid’s men,” said Ali-Baba, “They attack caravans and bring the treasure to him. He pretends to look into wiping them out, when in reality, he is really trying to get more gold for himself.” 

“That’s definitely evil,” said William. 

A sandstorm begins. William heard a whistling sound, soft at first, then growing louder and louder. Little flecks of sand began to hit his robe. 

“Sandstorm!” called the Caravan leader. He directed his camel toward the lee side of a dune, indicating for all to follow him. The camels, wary of the rising storm, made haste to get there, but the lee of the dune offered only marginal protection. They ducked down behind as the winds rose more and the whistling increased to a moaning and the sky turned red. 

William closed his eyes. The sky turned to black, and William’s camel moaned like the sandstorm. Meanwhile, the moaning increased to a dull rumble. The raining sand became sharper against their garments. 

Scherezade screamed. Hajji screamed, too. William tried to go to sleep but the noise was so loud even the dead wouldn’t have been able to sleep. 

William tried to wish for the sandstorm to stop by asking Hajji. 

“Hajji!” yelled William, “I wish for the sandstorm to come to an end!” The sandstorm ceased a little, that was all Hajji could do. 

But very slowly, the sandstorm’s intensity waned. When the sandstorm ceased entirely, and the desert was as silent as a grave and the sand smooth as glass, they continued on their way.

William grew increasingly bored with the travelling. The only sounds were the sound of the camels’ feet on the sand.  

The sky began to lighten, turning first gray, and then pink, then William heard as they approached the gates of the city of Ray. It was a mighty city with a wall around it. 

William felt grateful to be approaching the relative safety of a large metropolis. And here was where they hoped to get their flying carpet. He also hoped to have another conversation with Scheherezade, for he had begun to fall in love with her. 

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 8 - Aboard the Evening Star

They were all on board Sinbad’s grand vessel, named the Evening Star. It was a three-master, manned by a crew of 40. William admired how the sailors moved with such efficiency to get the ship ready to cast off. 

They released the lines from the cleats of the dock, and the wind carried them out away from the land. Sinbad was everywhere all at once, giving orders and shouting encouraging words to his crew, who it was clear would follow him to the ends of the earth. 

They set a course almost due east which would take them down the coast of the Caspian Sea. 

The ship rolled and pitched over the briny waves, as Sinbad and his men sang rousing Arabic shanties:

Farewell and adieu to your fair Spanish ladies

Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain

For we’ve received orders for to sail to Basra

And we hope very shortly to see you again

We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true Bagdad sailors

We’ll rant and we’ll roar along the salt sea

Until we strike soundings in the channel of old Basra

From Baghdad to Basra is thirty-five leagues. 

The ship surged forward, it was as if the men’s voices were thrusting it through the crashing waves. 

Much of the journey to Chalus need not be retold, for it was uneventful. William was so bored that he asked Scherezade to tell him stories and to dance for him. William’s favorite of her many tales was the story of the “Magic Horse.”

Then one day, a mysterious shadow spread over the vessel. Even though it was noon time and the sun was high, blackness engulfed Sinbad’s ship. 

A deafening, screeching sound was heard. Scherezade screamed and fainted. Hajji balled up his fists, and Sinbad drew his naked scimitar. 

“Arm yourselves, all, we are being attacked by a Roc!”

William didn’t know what a Roc was, but it sure seemed large, by its shadow and its screech. Suddenly the Roc dived. Sinbad jumped in the air, the Roc caught him and prepared to have Sinbad nuggets. William tried to make himself as big as possible, knowing if he did that, the animal might be scared away. But his efforts were to no avail.

“Hey, I don’t like this!” said Abdul, a random sailor. 

“Don’t worry,” William said, “he’ll come out the other end.”

But it did not come to that, as Sinbad, with his deft scimitar, struck the Roc’s head off. The head tumbled into the ocean with a splash. The shadow over the ship dissipated. 

The crew cheered at Sinbad’s victory, and then they sailed on. 

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 7 - Sinbad and the Port of Astara

Days later, the exhausted caravan staggered into the port of Astara. William had never seen such a town. Being on the coast, fish and fishermen seemed to be abundant. Women were dressed in harem pants, leg-revealing skirts and dresses and men dressed in turbans milled about the streets in the early morning. 

“Sure smells fishy here,” William observed, as a peddler waved a wet, scaly ware in his direction..

William turned a corner, and his eyes fell upon the Caspian Sea. It was brilliantly blue in the dawn light, and its beauty took his breath away. The sea seemed to stretch out forever, and dotting its surface were many vessels. Some were for fishing, some were larger for cargo, and others looked like they might be made for fighting.

William took a look around Astara. It was a bit bigger than the town of Ardabil they had left behind. It had mosque domes and minarets. A gate leading into the mosque was topped with golden towers. He saw magicians performing. Next to some larger buildings, he saw a form of tower he’d never seen before. They rose thin and high from the roofs, with long, narrow openings at the very top. 

“What are those?’ he asked Scherezade.

“Those are windcatchers, they help to cool the buildings by circulating cool fresh air in, and letting warmer air out.”

“Ingenious,” said William, only just having learned what the word “ingenious” meant and proud to use it.. He turned to Hajji, who had never heard the word before in his life, and said, “This word ‘ingenious’ is…”

“Ingenious!” declared a beaming Hajji. 

William continued to stare and people watch. Truly Persia was unlike anywhere he’d seen before. He could see mountains in the distance, and right in front of him was the glimmering Caspian Sea. This was an exceedingly beautiful land. 

Then William saw a man who looked like the Persian version of Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. He stood in a crowd of people and was elucidating a remarkable story. 

“There, on that desolate island, oh brothers,” he said, “The robots came and attacked me. Using my natural cunning, I avoided their laser beams, and with one swing of my sword, defeated them all.”

“What is a ‘robot’?” asked someone in the crowd.

“A mechanical being – a most sophisticated machine,” explained Sinbad

“Oh, great torturer of the truth,” scoffed an audience member, “Who could believe such a fanciful story!”

“Fanciful it is not,” countered Sinbad, “For I have experienced it.”

“I believe Sinbad!” called out William.

“This youth may be of few years, but he has much wisdom! Come, let's enjoy a hookah!” offered Sinbad to his new friend.

And with that, Sinbad strode off across the street and into a hookah parlor. William and his group followed and entered.

Inside there were a lot of dancing girls, dressed in colorful clothes, entertaining the male guests and talking to them most sweetly. 

Engraved on the walls were various designs and murals of beautiful women and scenes of everyday life. 

William approached Sinbad, “Oh, Sinbad, the master sailor, man of great courage, first among fighters, my friends and I desire passage to Chalus. Would you let us join you for such a short sail?”

“I would gladly agree…for the right payment,” Sinbad added.

“What do you have in mind?” asked William. 

“A thousand dinar. Each!”

“Greedy one!” accused Scherezade. 

“I’ve changed my price,” considered Sinbad, looking over Ali Baba’s men, “In place of dinars, I will accept five of Ali-Baba’s men to be added to my crew.”

Before Ali Baba could respond, the door suddenly burst open and seven men dressed in royal combat uniforms and brandishing scimitars swooped in and headed directly for Ali-Baba.

“Give yourself up, Ali-Baba!!” 

“I am not impressed by your words,” said Ali-Baba, “and I have no doubt I’d be less impressed by your skill with a sword. Do yourself a favor and leave the way you came in. Now!

“You’re coming with us!”

“On whose authority?”

“Dolorosan, servant to Al-Horrid.”

“Well, you can give Dolorosan a message from me.” And with that Ali-Baba unsheathed his sword and launched into combat. 

“I sure wished I had a sword," William said, as the fighting erupted around him. 

“Your wish is granted!” said Hajji, and a ‘sword’ magically appeared in William’s hand.

“Hajji! I can’t fight with a butter knife!” William complained.

“Sorry,” Hajji apologized.

Suddenly, William spied a scimitar that had dropped from the fist of a slain Royal Guard.  It lay on the ground not far from his feet. Quickly, William lunged forward and grabbed the weapon.

William joined Ali Baba in the fight. Sinbad and Ali Baba’s men joined the fray, while Scherezade and the dancing girls ran for cover. Dueling viciously, William managed to kill two of the soldiers, but they kept coming, so he dodged and parried and kept fighting, even after he suffered a cut on his forearm from a whirling scimitar. 

William lashed at the villains and fought furiously. At last, all but one of Al-Horrid’s men were dispatched, and the survivor ran as fast as his heels could carry him away back to the palace. 

“And tell Dolorosan that he’ll be next!” shouted Ali-Baba at the fleeing soldier. 

“Well fought, my friends,” Sinbad congratulated them, then he turned to the owner who was instructing his servants to remove the bodies of the slain guards, “Bring my compatriots food and drink after their hard work!”

As they sat and ate, the new friends discussed their next move.

“Now that the soldiers have returned, we should be on our way,” warned  Ali-Baba. 

“Well,” said Sinbad, “You have all shown your worth in battle, come aboard my ship and we shall make our escape.”

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 6 - Attack in the Night

On the third night of travel, the group was suddenly attacked by a horde of desert tribesmen riding on powerful horses. Ali Baba and his men tried to defend themselves, but they were severely outnumbered. The savages encircled the group and captured them. 

Poor Scheherazade was made a slave, William was tied to a stake, and the tribesmen drew knives, intending to kill him slowly. Hajji were lashed to a grill and a fire was lit under him. The other men were buried in sand up to their necks to await their turn. It was a dire situation that was soon made worse, when joking among themselves, some of the men began practicing their knife throwing skills by using the captured men as targets. William thought this was a bitter end for them – Al-Horrid was still in power, and he would never find his way home – what would his parents do if he never returned?

So far, the knives had narrowly missed their targets, but suddenly one of the deadly blades came frighteningly close to Hajji! In his panic, Hajji somehow found enough power to deflect the knife back at its thrower, hitting him in the chest. The man’s face expressed utter bewilderment before he keeled over, face down in the sand. For a moment, the group of men looked at each other confused.

“What devilment is this!” shouted one of the more intelligent men, backing away. 

William thought he saw a chance to play upon the men’s fears.

“Clearly, you have angered some desert spirits by attacking innocent travelers,” William suggested helpfully, “Perhaps, the wisest course would be to release us and allow us to go on our way – perhaps that would mollify whatever forces your crimes have unleashed.”

The men looked at him warily.

“It seems strange that spirits have never object-um before,” one of them pointed out sounding like Bugs Bunny impersonating an Arab. “me been here in  parts for many years, and never before had any bad juju.”

The other savages nodded in agreement. 

“I think bad juju come-um from one in group,” suggested another tribesman, “We have never had problem before we meet them!”

“True!” agreed another, “We should kill-um all to make sure we get rid-um of clever sorcerer among them!”  As the barbarians surrounded the helpless men, their knives raised to strike, William turned to Hajji with a sigh,

“This didn’t quite turn out the way I intended,” he admitted.

Suddenly, the sounds of battle horns cut the darkness, as a group of the Sultan’s guards charged in, brandishing their scimitars.

Not wishing to tangle with the royal guards, the tribsmen scrambled, jumping onto their steeds and escaping into the night. The guards followed in hot pursuit, yelling loudly, the moonlight flashing off their blades. A couple guards stopped to help release William and Hajji, and they in turn began to unearth the other men. Then the guards left to follow their compatriots, mistaking Ali Baba and his men for an innocent caravan waylaid by bandits. The rescuers  all soon disappeared over the dunes, leaving the night eerily silent again. 

Soon, the rest of the men were released, and they did their best to shake the sand out of their clothes, amazed by their unexpected good fortune.

“Wait, what happened to Scheherazade!” yelled William suddenly, concerned that she had been taken with the fleeing bandits.

“Here I am!” Scheherazade's voice could be heard in the distance, and they could see her graceful figure running towards them in the moonlight, “The bandits were in such a hurry to get away, they forgot about me!”

Grateful to hear her sweet voice, William breathed a sigh of relief. They set about gathering up their belongings which had been scattered across the sands by the pillaging thieves – luckily, it appeared that little had been taken – and they continued on their way… 

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 5 - A Yummy Bakery

William was eating what was perhaps the most delicious food that had ever passed his lips.

“Mmmmmm,” was all he could say. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” asked Ali-Baba. He had just ordered the baker to give most of his food to the poor, paying for it and also offering extra.

“It’s called a… a… what?” asked William.

“A qottab. It’s loaded with tiny bits of almond and walnut that are sweetened and deep-fried by rolling in sugar powder.”

“I could eat this all day.”

Schererzade and Hajji were also enjoying qottab, heavenly expressions on their faces.

“You seem like a fine young man, in spite of your strange clothing,” Ali Baba observed, “Do you want to join my band, lad?

“I’ll join no band of thieves, but I’ll gladly lead you against Al-Horrid.”

“Bold, this one!” laughed Ali-Baba, “The boy speaks like a king!”

“Say, where am I, anyway?” asked William.

“Persia!” said Ali-Baba, Scherezade, and Hajji altogether.

“Got it, got it, but what town?”

“You are in the historic village of Ardabil,” said Ali-Baba.

“How do I get to this town of Chasul that you mentioned?”

“You’ll need a ship for that,” said Scheherazade, “And the man to captain it is Sinbad – Sinbad the Sailor, the legendary teller of tales.”

“And where would I find Sinbad the Sailor?”

“You need to go to the town of Astara, on the coast. He’s known to frequent it when he’s not sailing the Caspian or Arabian Seas.”

“Okay, how do I get to Astara?”

“Do you have feet?”

“Yes, I have two of them.”

“They’re your best bet. It’s about a fifty-mile walk.”

William felt immediately  discouraged – fifty miles! It would be years before he got there! He would be an old man… or dead. He wondered if he should just stay in this strange land called Persia. Perhaps he should get a turban. 

Despite his misgivings, the party set out immediately. As they traveled, William looked up at the darkened sky thinking how beautiful the night was. It was the most lovely night he had ever seen. The millions of stars flickered like diamonds lying in the plushest velvet. The full moon shone magnificently over the sand, making it glisten. A cool breeze whispered through William’s hair. 

They continued on, walking across the sands. They did not stop when the moon rose high. Only as the sky began to lighten, did they make camp to sleep for the day. As Scherezade performed for the men, they drank red wine from goblets. 

“Ali-Baba, tell me this… what do you intend to do? Do you and your band of thieves plan to help the poor in these parts alone, or do you have grander plans? 

“I have much grander plans. Long ago, before Al-Horrid came to power, I was Prince Ali. But my family was deposed by Al-Horrid. My entire family, except for my father, was killed, and he died of sorrow. I will get my revenge on Al-Horrid.”

“And what form will your revenge take?”

“I will slay him in hand to hand  combat.”

“And I will dance over his corpse,” added Scherezade. 

“I hope your revenge brings you great satisfaction,” said William, “All of this walking across the desert has made me very hungry. I wish I had a pizza. Hey! Hajji, I wish for a pizza!”

“What is ‘pizza’?” Hajji asked.

“It is a wedge-shaped piece of cooked dough with tomato sauce and cheese,” William explained carefully, “You eat it with your hands.”

Hajji said some magic words, waved his hands around, then magically in his palm appeared… one tiny slice of pizza… that was about one inch across.

“Tada! Your pizza, my liege!” Hajji exclaimed proudly.

The onlookers marveled.

“Amazing!” Ali-Baba exclaimed, “But hardly worth the effort, I think.” 

“Uh, thanks. It looks delicious,” William ate the tiny slice of pizza. It actually tasted pretty good. 

“Thank you, Hajji, most impressive.”

While they rested, Scherezade told a story about a Jinn in a bottle who had far more experience than Hajji. Then, exhausted,  everyone went to their tents to sleep, anxious for the night to begin. 

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 4 - The Horrible Al-Horrid

“This is impossible, your excellency, for your powers know no bounds.”

“It is true, I say. The leader of these wretched bandits goes by the name Ali-Baba. I want his head!”

“Do you want the body attached, or just the head?”

About the same time this was happening, which was evening, for William had not eaten in hours, Al-Horrid was scheming among a bevy of harem beauties. Suddenly, he got an idea. He clapped his hands, dismissing the many girls lounging beside his massive golden throne. They slinked away, and Al-Horrid summoned Dorlorosan, his Vizier, or most trusted advisor. 

“Dolorosan! I want you in here!”

The weasley Dolorosan, who was very broad and powerful, strode into the throne room. 

“You summoned me, oh master,” said Dolorosan, the words slithering out of his gravelly throat. 

“I did! I have received word of a band of thieves resisting me! What know you of this treason?”

“Either!”

“Very good, your excellency. I shall see to it immediately.”

And with that, Dolorosan marched out of the throne room, turned past the guards outside, and stalked down the hallway to see his favorite helper,  the royal assassin….

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 3 - Civilization!

William was grateful when he and the Jinn finally reached the parched, wind-blasted hamlet of Ardabil, home to perhaps a few hundred souls eking out a marginal existence, sustaining themselves on goat milk and unleavened bread. They wandered through the streets, noticing many men wearing colorful, patterned clothing and equally colorful turbans. William approached a low building where many men were sitting about with cups of tea and rolls of fried bread that smelled delicious. William’s stomach rumbled as he dashed inside.

“I need water,” William coughed out to the old man who appeared to be in charge of the establishment.

“My pleasure, good master,” said the owner, cheerfully setting out a tall glass of water. “Now, if you please, that’ll be all the money you have,” he added, sticking out his open palm. 

“But I don’t have any money,” answered William.

“I am sorry, oh youth of strange attire,” replied the man, “But since Al-Horrid has dammed up the river, water has become quite scarce.” The man poured the water back into an earthen jar, while William watched glumly, He slumped away to sit on a bench. 

“Why did he speak so weird?” asked William to the Jinn.

“They all speak like that here at this time,” the Jinn answered, “just be grateful that the laws of interdimensional travel grant you the ability to understand their language.”

“I guess I’ll have to get used to it, and I am grateful,” grumbled William, “Especially if I am unable to find my way home, which to be honest I’d really like to do. Last time I returned home in a magical cauldron. Do you have any magical cauldrons here?”

“What’s a cauldron?”

“Something you put water in. It’s like a big pot. In Finland they call them pelliporti.”

“You have mentioned this place before,” the Jinn observed, “What is this Finland?”

“A far away country. It’s very cold.”

“Is it inhabited by the Western infidels?”

“I’d guess you’d say it is. So how does a person around here travel through time and space?”

“How should I know? I’ve only been a Jinn for like a hundred years. I’m really new at this.”

“How did you become a Jinn? Is it like your family business?” William asked.

“Not at all,” the Jinn shook his head sadly, “If it was, I might have more information about it. In my case, an evil vizier trapped me in the lamp. I was just an ordinary boy like you, skipping stones by the riverside -- before Al-Horrid damned it up -- when the vizier came by, said something I didn’t understand, and then all of a sudden it got very dark. And then I woke up in that lamp.”

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“Hajji,” said the Jinn, “It means pilgrimage.”

“It’s a nice name. My name’s William Hudson Devalle.”

“A pleasure to meet you, William.”

“Likewise, Hajji.”

Just then, a musician walked into the room carrying a stringed instrument with a long, graceful neck. He sat on a stool in the corner and began to play. William wasn’t familiar with the music of this land, but he thought the gentleman played pretty well. The song started off slow and sad, but then the tempo picked up, and the man’s strumming became more energetic. William almost felt like dancing.

And then, from behind a thick embroidered curtain, a young girl in a colorful costume adorned with tinkling silver bells sailed into the room and began dancing gaily close by William and Hajji. 

The girl’s name was Scheherazade, but neither William nor Hajji knew this at the time. She was quite well-known in this part of Persia for her exquisite dancing and beauty.  

Scheherazade gyrated gracefully, stretching her body low to the ground and swinging her dark, lustrous hair in time to the music. Her hips circled her body, sometimes thrusting upwards, and sometimes to the right and left. The men in the tavern were hypnotized by her movements, as she stretched out her slender arms and drew them in with her fingers. The customers were so entranced, they did not notice their pockets were picked. Hajji noticed however and discreetly nudged William, but neither wished to break Scheherazade’s spell by saying anything.  And then with a magnificent flourish, Scheherazade finished her dance, dropping to the floor in a graceful bow. The room burst into applause. 

The lovely dancer had noticed William’s strange clothes, and rather than mingling with the other customers, she approached him and Hajji.

“Are you the famous Scheherazade?” asked William, having been forced to read The Arabian Nights as a school project.

“That is my name, how do you know it?” she replied.

“I read it in a book.”

“I didn’t realize my name was in a book,”  Scheherazade’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Oh, yes,” William explained, “Even in my country, the name  ‘Scheherazade’ is synonymous with beauty and grace. And I understand that you tell amazing stories as well.”

Scheherazade eyes widened even more in amazement at William’s knowledge, and she looked as though she was about to say something else, when suddenly they heard a commotion outside, and looking through the open window, saw a band of marauding thieves ride into town on Arabian stallions.

They sang a song that went like this:

Ride high, ride high

Ride

Ride 

On we ride, plundering sons

Plundering sons,

Forty and one for all!

All for one!

Bedouins all!

Bedouins all!

Side by side,

Saddles and reins following 

One for all

Swift and sure

Rob from the rich

Feeding the poor

Ride high, ride high

Ride

Guide me right to a caravan!

Ride again, Ali-Baba, men!

“Who are those men?” William asked Hajji.

“They are the forty thieves,” said Hajji, “They are known widely in this area for protecting the poor and kindly separating the wealthy from some of their onerous worldly possessions.”

“Okay, they sound like nice guys. Would any of them know how I can get home?”

“I don’t think so, but I have an idea. There is a magic scroll kept under lock and key in the palace of Al-Horrid. If you were to get your hands on it, you could read the incantation on the scroll, and it would grant you any wish you desire, including the wish to return home.”

“So let’s head out and find it. I’m so hot in here I’ll melt. And plus there’s nothing fun to do.”

“Watching me dance isn’t fun?” asked Scherezade from across the room.

“Oh! Yes. It’s very entertaining,” William was quick to assure her, “But still, I must go. I am a stranger in this land.”

Ali-Baba entered the establishment, followed by his forty thieves. They handed out coins to the people, who were grateful for Ali Baba’s kindness, especially when some noticed they had somehow lost their money bags..

Ali-Baba noticed William. He took a good look at him and squinted at William’s strange clothes.

“Come here, oh youth wrapped in exotic garments!” called Ali-Baba.

William looked to Hajji to see what he should do. Hajji nodded. William walked over to Ali-Baba, who stood very tall with his arms across his chest.

“Well, well, well, who are you?”

“I am William. And who are you?”

“I am the Great Ali-Baba, and if you do not know that, you must not be from these parts.”

“You are correct, I am from far, far away.”

“And what is the name of this place you hail from?”

“It’s called ‘Northern California.”

Ali-Baba tilted his head in thought. “Strange name. Do they have camels there?” 

“Only in zoos.”

“What’s a zoo?”

“Where you keep animals.”

“Sounds like a barn. Or a pen. Or a field.”

“Could you get me the scroll?”

“What scroll?”

“Al-Horrid’s scroll.”

“I most certainly could not. It’s heavily guarded and kept under lock and key, and far away from here in the city of Persepolis. Why, to get there you’d have to ride a donkey down the coast, then catch a boat to Chalus. Then from Chalus ride a caravan to Ecbatana, and then once you get there, get your hands on a flying carpet.” 

“A flying carpet?”

“Oh yes, and then you’d ride the flying carpet to Persepolis, where Al-Horrid’s palace is. But you’ll be stabbed to death many times before you get anywhere near his cherished scroll. Now, if instead you want a roll, I know a bakery down the street.”

“A roll would be nice, I haven’t eaten in hours.”

“Then let’s get a roll! Scherezade, come with us!

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia : Chapter 2 - The Jinn

A Jinn appeared, of course!

The Jinn looked to be about William’s age and size. He wore a blue turban, scarlet flowing pants, and brown sandals. His skin was the color of almonds. His bright eyes were shielded from the sun by dark eyebrows.

“Hello, William, you’ve arrived at the perfect time!” the Jinn shouted excitedly.

“I’m not so sure about that,” William shouted back, feeling confused, “What’s perfect about it?”

“It’s the perfect time for you to rescue me from being trapped inside that magic lamp!” said the Jinn. 

“Are you a genie?” asked William.

“Of course not. I’m a Jinn!” said the Jinn, with a grin above his chin.

“What’s a Jinn?” William asked.

“A Jinn is a magical being who lives inside a lamp.”

“Oh sure, like a genie.”

“No, no, no!” the jinn shook his head sternly, “The clumsy word ‘genie’ is only your language’s offensive approximation for the word ‘Jinn’ in the original Persian language.”

“So does that mean I’m in Persia?”

“You are!”

“Okay, got it. Persia. Arrived by jumping in a pile of leaves. Right.”

“You’re taking this interdimensional journey very calmly,” observed the Jinn.

“Yeah, well,  it’s not my first time. I once went back to ancient Finland by climbing in a refrigerator.”

“What’s a refrigerator?”

“I’ll explain later. Was it you calling to me to jump into the pile of leaves?”

“Indeed!”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I was stuck in a lamp! Out here in the middle of nowhere! What would you have done, my friend?”

Rather than answer his question, William asked, “How’d you get out in the middle of nowhere?”

“My lamp fell off a flying carpet!” the Jinn told William morosely, shaking his head

“So flying carpets are real?”

“Oh course! Don’t they have them where you come from?”

“No, but once a Finnish person fell through our ceiling!”

“That sounds fun too!”

“Can we stop shouting?”

“Yes!”

“Great,” said William, more quietly, “Because, if I remember correctly, I get some wishes!”

“That is the usual protocol. Yes,” agreed the Jinn. 

“Okay then,” William said, “I wish for super powers.”

“Be more specific. Do you wish to smell super bad?” suggested the Jinn, helpfully.

“No, I want to be able to fly and shoot laser beams out of my eyes – stuff like that.”

“Fly, huh?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds hard.”

“But, I thought you were a genie.”

“A jinn?”

“Whatever! You’re supposed to grant me wishes! Make me fly!”

The Jinn picked up William and threw him six inches into the air. 

“There! You see! You flew! Wish granted!”

“No, I want to be able to soar like a falcon.”

“Well, here’s the deal, William. I’m sort of new at being a Jinn. I haven’t learned all the special magic stuff that lets an experienced Jinn grant the big wishes.”

“Oh,” William looked disappointed, “ Well, that’s kind of a drag. How long will it take until you can grant big wishes.”

“Not long. Maybe a thousand years or so.”

“Oh, okay. Well then, how about you transport me to a place where there’s water… and civilization?”

“Easy. That I can do. I just rub my hands together, say the magic word ‘shabazz…’

“Okay….” said William, getting excited at having his thirst quenched. 

“...and then we walk six miles that way,” concluded the Jinn, pointing north. William let out a big sigh. 

So they started walking north.

William the Conquerer and the Sands of Persia: Chapter 1 - A Flight to the Sands

One day, William was playing his Xbox in the living room and experiencing utter delight as his faithful dog Frodo sat next to him, barking in celebration of William ridding the galaxy of evil aliens. Was there a better way to wile away a Saturday afternoon than by planting oneself on a couch and playing video games? Of course not! 

Because of this, it was deeply disappointing to William when his father walked in the front door and told him to go outside and rake the leaves. 

“But if I abandon Earth, the aliens will take over and eat everyone’s brains!” William protested.

“Hmmm,” considered his dad, “I wouldn’t want everyone’s brains to get eaten. Oh wait, that’s only a video game! It’s not real life. Real life is me being outside for the past two hours raking most of the leaves on the front lawn.”

“But why rake the leaves?” asked William.

“I don’t know. It's just something people do. If I didn’t rake them, some of the neighbors would talk. And as someone with life experience, I would advise you to avoid having your neighbors talk about you.”

William had never given much thought to neighbors, and he had to think this over for a moment. 

“Tell you what,” continued his father, “I’ve been out there raking leaves, while you’ve been in here playing video games. How about we switch things up? You go outside for half an hour and rake that one part of the yard I didn’t get to, and I’ll protect the galaxy.”

“Do I have to?”moaned William piteously.

“Well, your contributions to this family really help, so I’d appreciate it if you did.”

“Well, okay,” said William, getting up off the couch. 

“Thank you,” said his father, “So, show me how to work this thing,” he added, pointing to William’s game console.

“No, you’d just mess it up.” William paused his game and headed to the door.

“You’re probably right,” agreed his dad, who went into the kitchen to get a cool drink. It was late September, and even though the leaves had been falling for a couple of weeks now, a heat wave had hit and it was in the upper 80s outside. 

William went out the front door, letting the screen door slam – because he could never remember not to let it slam – and found the rake that his dad had left propped up against the house. Frodo had come out with him and had run over to sniff the plastic bags full of leaves that William’s father had dragged down to the curb. 

William started raking leaves into a pile. William realized that raking was actually an interesting activity. When he had been thinking about it while he was inside on the couch, it hadn’t seemed fun at all, but now that he was up and doing it, it wasn’t so bad. It gave him time to think, and he felt like he was accomplishing something, and he felt a little proud that he was helping his family. His dad, after all, had worked most of the morning.

As William raked, Frodo ran around smelling the leaves and nearby trees. When William had built up a pile of leaves about three feet high, Frodo hunkered down with his rear end in the air and gave it a little excited wiggle. Then he jumped up and ran straight for the leaf pile, leaping right into the middle, disappearing for a moment under the red and gold leaves. When Frodo re-emerged, his tail was wagging vigorously, showing he was really happy. Frodo’s antics did mean that William had to rake some of the leaves back into the pile, but Frodo’s leap had made him so happy that it was worth this extra work. 

As Frodo took a second leap into the leaf pile, and William was preparing to rake those leaves up again, he suddenly thought, “Why do only dogs get to  jump into leaf piles?” But then he thought, “Well, there probably isn’t any law against a boy jumping in a leaf pile.” On the other hand, he considered, “If I do jump in, it will just create more work for me to do.” But then, on the other, other hand he thought, “But I don’t really mind the work, so why not?”

While William hesitated, he thought he heard a faint voice saying, “Jump, William. Take the leap. It’s fun.” William didn’t have much experience with hearing voices, so he tried to ignore it, but then the voice came again, more clearly, “You owe it to yourself, William, take the leap!”

William put down the rake. He took ten big steps back from the pile, flexed his legs to get ready to run, and then took off toward the pile at full speed!

He was about six feet away from the pile when he jumped into the air, laughing as he did. He landed in the pile and was submerged in red, orange, and yellow leaves. Frodo had been barking happily the whole time, but strangely, Frodo’s barking now sounded more distant. 

It also was strange that the leaves, which had originally felt moist and clammy, now felt very dry and hot. The air was dry, too. 

Down at the bottom of the leaf pile, William pushed away the leaves and began to climb out, intending to finish the raking job.

So he was very surprised to find that when he got out of the leaf pile, he was no longer in his front yard. 

He was standing on a vast expanse of sandy desert, with tall dunes in the distance, a dry wind cutting across his cheek. 

What had happened? Where was he? He looked around for a clue. Looking down by his foot he saw something shiny.glinting in the sunlight. William bent over and brushed the sand away, then he picked it up and examined it closely.

It was a brass oil lamp with pearl inlay. He had read stories about people finding lamps like this, so he did what they always did – he rubbed the side of it like he was polishing it.

And guess what happened….?

Zorro: a TV Series

Synopsis: Don Diego returns to California, only to find it being oppressed by a cruel commondante. He dawns the disguise of Zorro to battle this oppression while pretending to be a fop to throw off suspicion. Not my favorite of all the Zorros but still a good watch.

It stars Sargeant Garcia, a clumsy soldier, and Bernardo, who is Diego’s deaf and mute servant. There’s also Commondante Monasterio who tyrannizes the people of Spanish California. Anna Maria Verdugo is the love interest, and there are many various evil soldiers and villains that Zorro must defeat. A real treat. Fun fact - Zorro the TV series grew so popular that it was featured in DisneyLand in 1957, the show’s debut year.