By P.K. Silverson
© Copyright 2008
By The Author
All Rights Reserved
There once was a man, o dearest beloved, who lived in the depths of the deepest, driest desert in the whole, wide world. Day after day, my smallest darling who should attend what I say now, the desert got deeper and the desert got drier.
But the man was a most clever and brave man, a strong and powerful man, a most ambitious man. He was like no man you ever saw, my most enchanted listener, and like no man you’ll ever see. He decided to become ruler of all he could survey and all that was within his reach.
So this man who lived in the depths of the deepest, driest desert in the whole, wide world rose up and came out from out of the depths of the deep, dry desert. All that he saw before him he made his own. All that stood before him he made to kneel down. Jihad to, o dearest beloved, because it was his destiny and his duty.
Soon, so very soon, he was ruler of all he surveyed and all was within his reach. And do you know what he did then, my precious one and only one? He proclaimed himself Grand Sultan, and he smiled a great king’s smile.
After having proclaimed himself Grand Sultan, the Grand Sultan brought himself to the Oas-land, where the date trees grow in plenty and the river runs deep and cool…where the world is kind and the winds drift gently across the land, which was not at all like the depths of the deepest, driest desert in the whole, wide world.
It was there in the Oas-land, o dearest beloved, the Grand Sultan chose to build his very own palace, having grown tired of living in the tents of the deepest, driest desert in the whole, wide world, and even more tired of waging his holy wars to gather the wealth and power that were his destiny and his duty.
So he ordered his slaves to build him the biggest, most beautiful and ornate palace the world had ever seen, surrounded by wondrous gardens of green trees and pastel flowers. And build they did, my little darling. Build they did. They built in the morning and they built in the mid-day sun and they built by the light of the lovely full moon.
Soon there stood, right in the middle of the gentle Oas-land, the biggest, most beautiful and ornate palace the world had ever seen. It was surrounded by wondrous gardens of green trees and pastel flowers, by brooks that babbled and bubbled and water that glistened as it fell from on high.
Now attend me well, my most important delight, when I tell you the Grand Sultan, despite his beautiful and ornate palace and wondrous gardens, and despite his empire of lands and wealth, this grandest of grand men was not an entirely happy soul.
And do you know why, o dearest beloved? It was because of this: The Grand Sultan did not have a love to call his own, like you and I do, my precious one. That made him very sad, indeed.
But the Grand Sultan was ruler of all he surveyed and all was within his reach. He was a most brave, strong and powerful man. He was a most ambitious man, like no man you ever saw and no man you’re ever likely see. And even though he was no rocket scientist, dearest beloved, he was still a most clever man.
He thought about what to do to end his great unhappiness. He thought in the morning and he thought in the mid-day sun and he thought by the light of the lovely full moon. Finally, when he had thought until he thought he could think no more, he came to a great decision. He decided to do something about his great unhappiness.
So, he did.
And do you know what the Grand Sultan decided to do, o love of mine with such a wide open mouth (what would your mother say if she saw that?)?
That’s right, o dearest beloved! He decided to be married and to have a love to call his own.
The Grand Sultan sent his trusted warriors out from his beautiful palace in the Oas-land. He sent them far and wide. Because he was ruler of all he surveyed and all that was in his reach.
When his trusted warriors returned from far and wide, they brought with them all of the fairest young women from all the lands which belonged to the Grand Sultan. And that was a lot of fair young women. A whole lot of fair young women. A very lot. In fact, it was more fair young women than most men could possibly take for their wives.
The Grand Sultan looked at all the fair young women and was unhappier than he had ever been before! There were so many fair young women he could not possibly choose just one to be his bride. It was a great dilemma.
But the Grand Sultan was ruler of all he surveyed and all was within his reach. Even though he would never be invited to host “Ask Mr. Wizard,” dearest beloved, he was still a most clever man.
He thought about what to do about his great dilemma. He thought in the morning and he thought in the mid-day sun and he thought by the light of the lovely full moon. Finally, when he had thought until his thinking cap had melted into a soggy puddle, he came to a great decision.
He decided to do something about his great dilemma. So, he did.
And do you know what the Grand Sultan decided to do this time, o precious one? You’ve guessed again, haven’t you? (You are so clever!)
He decided to marry them all!
That’s exactly what he did. Except he could not possibly marry them all at once, because to make each of the fair young women his own adoring wife, he would have to take each of them to bed and do unspeakable things you and I cannot discuss, o dearest beloved. But take it on my word, these things were absolutely necessary and quite nice indeed. You’ll find out more about them when you are much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much older.
(How much older? We shall see when we shall see. Now attend, and don’t be so nosy.)
One-by-one, alphabetically and by height, the Grand Sultan began to marry the fair young women. Each night he would take one to his bed and take off their fine wedding dresses so he could see their firm , inviting bodies just right for making…well, never you mind.
Suffice it to say the Grand Sultan enjoyed the delights of paradise with each of his new wives before moving on to the next day and to a new wife.
And what happened to the old wives? You may well ask, o dearest beloved, and you’d be right to find out. Because after a while, there were so many old wives, they grew crowded in their quarters in the beautiful, ornate palace. They grew demanding of the Grand Sultan’s time. And they grew quarrelsome.
All day long they would quarrel. They would bicker in the morning and they would argue in the mid-day sun and they would get into frightful rows by the light of the lovely full moon.
Finally, when the Grand Sultan thought he would surely lose his mind from all the quarreling, he came to a great decision.
He gathered up all of his old wives and herded them into a far room in the beautiful and ornate palace. Then one-by-one, alphabetically and by height, the Grand Sultan had them all executed.
That’s right, o dearest beloved. He cut their pretty heads right off!
From then on, the Grand Sultan continued to marry the fair young women one-by-one, alphabetically and by height. And each night he would take his new bride to his bed and take off her fine wedding dresses to enjoy the delights of her inviting body.
And the very next day, as the Grand Sultan moved on to a new wife, the old one would simply be escorted into a far room of the beautiful and ornate palace, where her pretty head would be cut right off.
(If only modern marriage were so simple, dearest beloved. Perhaps the Grand Sultan knew something we do not.)
Under his new policy, the Grand Sultan’s beautiful and ornate palace remained peaceful and quiet. No longer was there the sound of angry women arguing morning, noon and night. Everybody noticed the change. Most people thought it was all for the better.
But not the fair young women who were still waiting their turns to become the Grand Sultan’s brides. They began to wonder just what was going on. After all, o dearest beloved, it did not require an executive consultant to see from the available data that things did not quite add up.
So whispers began, as whispers do, and whispers turned into rumors. Rumors turned into dread and dread turned into panic. In this case, the fair young women were all quite right in their thinking. Because every day, another one of them would be marched off, alphabetically and by height, to marry the Grand Sultan. And they would never be heard from again.
There was among the fair young women, o dearest beloved, a fair young woman who had once lived on the smallest of tiny islands in the whole, wide world. Day after day, my smallest darling who should attend what I say now, the island stayed pretty much as it always had been and always would be: The smallest of tiny islands in the whole, wide world.
But the fair young woman was a most clever and brave young woman, my most enchanted listener, and like no woman you’ll ever see. She decided to leave the smallest of tiny islands in the whole, wide world and become queen to the ruler of all he could survey and all that was within his reach.
This fair young woman who lived on the smallest of tiny islands in the whole, wide world rose up and sailed out from the isolation of the smallest of tiny islands. After many days on the wide, open sea, she came to the shore of the land of the Grand Sultan, because it was her destiny and her duty.
She was swept up by the trusted warriors the Grand Sultan had sent out far and wide from his beautiful palace in the Oas-land. When his trusted warriors returned from far and wide, they brought with them all of the fairest young women from the lands of the Grand Sultan. With them came the fair young woman who had lived on the smallest of tiny islands in the whole, wide world.
She languished with the other fair young women who waited their turn to become the brides of the Grand Sultan. A thousand days and a thousand nights she waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
But, unlike the others, she used the time to think. She would think in the morning and think in the mid-day sun and then think even more by the light of the lovely full moon. She never grew tired of thinking.
When her turn came to marry the Grand Sultan, she did not panic. She was happy to be taken in turn, alphabetically and by height, because she was ready to become queen to the ruler of all he could survey and all that was within his reach. It was her destiny and her duty.
And so she was brought before the Grand Sultan on her wedding day, all dressed up in the finest robes which revealed the supple youth of her body, the generous curve of her firm, round breasts. She could see that the Grand Sultan was pleased by her, and he asked her for her name.
“Scheherezade,” was what she told him, because that’s what she was called, o dearest beloved. It really was.
The Grand Sultan married the fair Scheherezade straight off and took his new bride right to his bed, eager to take off her fine wedding dress and enjoy the delights of her inviting body.
When he had finished, the Grand Sultan smiled at her and said, “I have not enjoyed myself so much with a new bride since I can’t remember when.”
“Thank you, my Lord and darling husband,” Scheherezade answered with a smile that invited him back for seconds.
It was an invitation he accepted gratefully, and was not sorry for having made such a choice afterward.
“You are a very special young woman,” the Grand Sultan confided in Scheherezade when he finally rolled his exhausted body off of her luxurious frame. “It is quite unfortunate your pretty head will have to be cut right off tomorrow. If it were not my absolute will and policy, I think I could be quite happy with you for some time.”
“Be that as it may,” Scheherezade said, quite unafraid, although you might be surprised by this, o dearest beloved, “we still have some time left together until tomorrow comes.”
“This is so,” the Grand Sultan agreed. “This is very so.”
“Perhaps I can entertain my Lord and darling husband with a short story. I have waited a thousand days and a thousand nights for this occasion. I have used the time to think of wondrous things. It would be a shame to waste all that time.”
“Let’s not waste it then,” the Grand Sultan allowed, admiring the way his fair young wife’s supple breasts moved ever so gracefully as she breathed and talked. “Tell me your tale.”
The beautiful Scheherezade began to tell spin a story, all the while caressing the Grand Sultan as only a wife knows how to touch a husband (which is none of your business, o delight of my life). And this is the tale she told:
“In an age of wonder, there came to market a young boy who lived far away on a little farm. On the road, he met a strange man who was covered by a hooded robe.
” ‘I’m hungry, boy,’ said the strange man, ‘for I’ve had nothing to eat in days. Give me but a bit of your bread, and in return, I’ll grant you three wishes.’
“The boy did not hesitate for an instant. He offered a generous loaf of bread to the strange man then and there. Without even being asked, he also gave the strange man a cup of his very own water, on which he had to make do until he reached the market and sold his wares.
“The strange man ate quickly. When he was done, he pulled the hood from over his head.
” ‘You are a good boy,’ the strange man said, ‘and for your kindness, I’ll grant you three wishes.’
“The boy thought briefly about his first wish, and then said, ‘I wish I didn’t have to walk to market.’”
“Then what happened,” the Grand Sultan wanted to know.
“I’m sorry, my Lord and beloved husband,” Scheherezade answered, the smile gone from her face. “The sun has risen, and you must take a new bride today. That is your absolute will and policy, though I think we could be quite happy together for some time.”
“My new bride can wait,” the Grand Sultan said. “Please finish your story.”
“If I am still with you tonight,” Scheherezade said mysteriously, “then I will finish the story. And we can once again enjoy the delights of paradise in each other’s arms. I can even start a new story if it pleases you.”
“A new story?” the Grand Sultan was quite intrigued by this prospect, o dearest beloved, as I can see that you, yourself, are too.
“Oh, yes, my absolute Lord and love of my life,” Scheherezade promised. “I have traveled here from the smallest island in the whole, wide world, and I have waited to become your queen for a thousand days and a thousand nights. I have thought in the morning and thought in the mid-day sun and thought by the night of the lovely full moon. And I have made up a story for each of those days, to entertain you in each of your nights, if you would only have it so.”
The Grand Sultan stood up and drew his royal robe around his powerful body. He looked down and admired the beautiful Scheherezade, who was built both for comfort and for speed. It did not take him long to decide what to do.
“Tonight, you will finish your story, my dear Scheherezade,” he said with a smile, “and we will enjoy the delights of paradise in each other’s arms. Then, although it is quite unfortunate, your pretty head will have to be cut right off tomorrow, for that is my absolute will and policy.”
“If it must be so, then it must,” Scheherezade agreed with a mysterious and inviting smile.
With that, o dearest beloved, the Grand Sultan left her to go on about his business of being the ruler of all he surveyed and all that was within his reach.
That very night, the Grand Sultan returned to the bed of the beautiful Scheherezade. Again, they shared the delights of paradise in each other’s arms (which you are too young to understand, o dearest beloved, so don’t ask me about it again). When they were finished, the Great Sultan demanded Scheherezade finish her tale, which she did.
“The boy thought briefly about his first wish, and then said, ‘I wish I didn’t have to walk to market.’”
” ‘Done,’ cried the stranger. With a mighty sweep, he lifted the young boy up onto the back of the lone cow he was taking to market.
” ‘That’s your first wish, kind youngster,’ the strange man bowed. ‘How else can I serve you?’
” ‘That wasn’t much of a wish,’ the boy said. ‘I was hoping you’d whisk me off to the market.’
” ‘You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid,’ the strange man bowed apologetically. ‘Give me your next command.’
” ‘I wish this cow wasn’t so uncomfortable to sit on,’ the boy said.
” ‘Easily taken care of,’ the strange man answered. And with a mighty sweep, he knocked the boy off the back of the cow, back onto the dusty road.
” ‘Hey,’ the boy protested, ‘that hurt.’
” ‘Your second wish has been granted,’ the stranger intoned. ‘Ask your third favor of me.’
“The young boy got to his feet, rubbing his hands over his sore back and shaking his head. ‘I wish I’d never met you,’ he said.
“Without another word, the strange man turned on his heel and walked off down the road. And that was the last the young boy ever saw or heard from him again.”
The Grand Sultan sat in bed, stunned, as Scheherezade continued to caress him as only a wife knows how to touch a husband (which is still very much none of your business, o tiresome child). Then, he clapped his hands and laughed with delight.
“You wicked woman,” he said. “Your story is pure nonsense. I should have cut off your head this morning and taken my new bride tonight, as is my absolute will and policy.
“That’s true, my Lord and dearest love on the face of the whole, wide world,” Scheherezade smiled mysteriously. “But then you would never have known how the story turned out, and we would not have again shared paradise in each other’s arms.”
“Be that as it may,” the Grand Sultan sighed. “your pretty head will have to be cut right off tomorrow.”
“We still have some time left,” Scheherezade said, quite unafraid, o dearest beloved, “until tomorrow comes.”
“This is so,” the Grand Sultan agreed. “This is very so.”
“Then perhaps my Lord and darling husband will allow me to entertain him with a new story. I have waited a thousand days and a thousand nights, and I have used the time to think of many things. It would be a shame to waste a wonderful story.”
“Why not?” the Grand Sultan allowed, admiring the way his fair young wife’s lean, tight tummy led toward the moist tunnel to heaven between her legs. “Tell me your tale.”
So the beautiful Scheherezade began to tell spin another story, all the while caressing the Grand Sultan as only a wife knows how to touch a husband. Yet again, when the sun came peeked its bright and shiny head out for its first glimpse of the Grand Sultan’s ornate and beautiful palace in the lush gardens of the gentle Oas-land, she had not yet finished her fascinating story.
“Then what happened,” the Grand Sultan demanded, intrigued by his wife’s narrative.
“I’m sorry, my Lord and beloved husband,” Scheherezade answered, the smile gone from her face. “The sun has risen, and you must take a new bride today. That is your absolute will and policy.”
“Policy be hanged,” the Grand Sultan said, not at all happy with being teased so. “Please finish your story.”
“If I am still with you tonight,” Scheherezade said mysteriously, “I will finish the story. And we can once again enjoy the delights of paradise in each other’s arms.”
“No,” the Grand Sultan thundered, “Tell me now.”
“Tonight,” Scheherezade stood before her husband, revealing the full majesty of her generous body, “I will finish the story. Tonight only, or never again.”
The Grand Sultan stood up and drew his royal robe around his powerful body. He glared at the beautiful Scheherezade, who was built both for comfort and for speed. It did not take him long to decide what to do.
“Tonight,” he laughed, “You will finish your story, my dear Scheherezade, and we will enjoy the delights of paradise in each other’s arms. Tomorrow for certain, although it is quite unfortunate, your pretty head will have to be cut right off, for that is my absolute will and policy.”
“If it must be so, then it must,” Scheherezade agreed with a mysterious and inviting smile.
With that, o dearest beloved, the Grand Sultan left her to go on about his business of being the ruler of all he surveyed and all that was within his reach.
That very night, the Grand Sultan returned to the bed of the beautiful Scheherezade. Again, they shared the delights of paradise in each other’s arms, and again, when they were finished, the Great Sultan demanded that Scheherezade finish her tale, which she did.
Again, the beautiful Scheherezade tantalized her husband with the prospect of a new tale, and again he agreed to allow her to begin another story, all the while caressing him as only a wife knows how.
And, yet again, when the sun came over the tops of the swaying date trees in the gardens of the Grand Sultan’s ornate and beautiful palace, Scheherezade had not yet finished her story.
Night after night, o dearest beloved (who has fallen asleep in my lap and makes quite a heavy burden to bear), the Grand Sultan threatened to behead his queen if she did not reveal the end of her story. Night after night she refused, and morning after morning, the Grand Sultan left her, returning again the following evening to the bed of his beautiful Scheherezade to share the delights of paradise in each other’s arms, and when they finished, the end of Scheherezade’s tale.
Morning after morning, the beautiful Scheherezade tantalized her husband with the prospect of a new tale. Always, he agreed to allow her to begin another story. All the while, she caressed him as only a wife knows how.
For a thousand nights and a thousand days after the first day of their marriage, when the sun came over the tops of the swaying date trees in the gardens of the Grand Sultan’s ornate and beautiful palace, Scheherezade had not yet finished her latest story.
The cycle repeated viciously, o dearest beloved, until the poor Grand Sultan could bear it no longer.
“We still have some time left until tomorrow comes,” Scheherezade said, quite unafraid as always, in a voice that the Grand Sultan had come to know and dread.
“Absolutely not, the Grand Sultan thundered, standing up and drawing his royal robe around his powerful body. He glared at the beautiful Scheherezade, whose comfortable body was beginning to signs of wear and tear. The Grand Sultan felt a sudden need to feel a fair new body beneath his in bed, so it did not take him long to decide what to do.
“I’m sorry, my lovely Scheherezade,” the Grand Sultan said, the smile gone from his face. “The sun has risen, and I must take a new bride today. That is my absolute will and policy, though we have been quite happy together for some time. My new bride can’t wait. Your story is finished.”
“But, my Lord and dearest husband of a thousand and one nights,” the beautiful Scheherezade pleaded, quite frightened all of a sudden, “I waited for you a thousand days and a thousand nights. I used the time to think of many things. It would be a shame to waste a wonderful story.”
“Stuff a sock in it, dear,” the Grand Sultan said. He quickly slipped his own sock off and shoved it in Scheherezade’s mouth so she could not say even one word more.
The Grand Sultan summoned his guards, who escorted the beautiful Scheherezade into a far room of the beautiful and ornate palace. And as the Grand Sultan looked on and waved, the executioner cut her pretty head right off.
That’s right, o dearest beloved. He cut her pretty head right off!
From then on, the Grand Sultan continued to marry the fair young women from far and wide one-by-one, alphabetically and by height. Each night he would take his new bride to his bed and take off her fine wedding dresses to enjoy the delights of her inviting body. And the very next day, as the Grand Sultan moved on to a new wife.
The old wife would find herself being escorted to a far room of the beautiful and ornate palace. Her pretty head would be cut right off, and the executioner would have to retrieve the Grand Sultan’s sock, which was always hanging out of the ex-queen’s pretty mouth.
Moral: Once a story has been told, it can’t help but grow old.
