The Genie of the Marble

The Genie of the Marble

    Sara was bored.
    Mom and Dad were out at some big grownup's party, and Michelle was
in the living room, stretched out of the sofa watching T.V. and crunching
an apple.
    Sara idly picked up Great-Grandpa's marble bag and tossed it loosely
from hand to hand.  He'd given it to her on her birthday, last April;  it
had been laying in the corner since.  Marbles, what fun were marbles
anyway?  They didn't do anything.
    She unfastened the strap and poured out a handful.  Some of them
were kind of pretty, she had to admit to herself.  Reds and blues played
together in a swirl of color.  She emptied the rest of the bag into her
lap to pick out the prettiest.
    The last one out of the bag caught her eye immediately.  It was
somewhat larger than the others, but not by much;  what really set it
apart was its colors.  It never looked the same color twice;  each time
she turned it over and looked again the dancing pattern inside the marble
seemed to shift and refocus into something new.  Sara held the marble in
fascination, rolling it between her fingers as she watched the colors change.
    "Do you like that one?" said a new voice.
    Sara looked up in astonishment.  Seated Cross-legged in front of her
was a boy, about her own age, smiling peacefully at her as she held the
marble.
    "Who are you?" she asked.  "How did you get in here?"
    "You called me, so here I am," the boy responded.
    "I didn't call anybody," Sara told him.  "Did Michelle let you in?"
    "Your Great Grandfather brought me to you," he said, pointing to the
marble still in Sara's hand.
    Sara glanced down and was astonished to see that the beautiful
marble was now a clear glass ball, with no color anywhere to be seen.
    "I am the genie of the marble," the boy told her.  "What is your
command?"
    "Is this a joke?" Sara demanded, scooping up all the marbles and
dropping them back into the bag.  "Dad told me there aren't any such
things as genies."
    "Your father was mistaken," he said.  "Your Great Grandfather knew
about me, and he decided that you would be a fair master for me.  Name
your wish, and if it is within my power, it shall be done."
    "you mean you're supposed to grant me wishes, like in all the fairy
tales?" Sara asked.  "Dad said those are all make-believe."
    "Not all of them are."
    "All right, if you're for real, grant me a wish then.  Let's see . .
. I wish I had a big piece of chocolate cake!"
    "That wish is not within my power."
    Sara shook her head.  "It figures.  What can you do?"
    "I can show you anyplace you want to see, on this earth or off of it."
    "Off of it?  What's off the earth?"
    The boy waved his arms expansively.  "More than I can possibly
describe.  All things that are dreamed of, but rarely seen;  all things
that are never spoken, and rarely heard; all things that cannot be
touched, and are rarely felt."
    Sara puzzled over this for a few minutes.  "You mean, like heaven or
hell?"  she asked finally.  "My friend Jody tried to explain heaven and
hell to me yesterday, and she used words something like what you just said."
    The boy snapped his fingers, and the room changed.

    Sara blinked in surprise.  She was standing in a large, square room,
whose walls were adorned with various Sesame Street characters. 
Scattered about the floor were a number of toys, most not being used; one
small red-haired boy seated in the middle was playing with what seemed to
be the newest toy in the room, a shiny yellow toy car.  There were
several other children seated around who were only watching the one child
with his toy, waiting, it seemed, for their chance.  All the children in
the room ignored her.
    "Where are we?  How did you do that?" she asked of the mysterious
boy, standing beside her.
    "Watch," said the genie, calmly.
    A door on the far side of the room opened, and a grownup entered,
carrying a brand new toy truck.  Sara admired it from across the room--it
was veery pretty and shiny new.  The grownup handed the truck to the
nearest little boy, and went out the way she'd come.  The lucky recipient
gasped in surprise at his new treasure, and began to turn it over in his
hands, grinning proudly as he opened and closed the little doors and
swung the cab left and right.
    The red-haired boy who had been playing with the car had watched
this exchange with an unreadable expression, and now dropped his car and
walked over to try to grab the truck out of the other's hands.  They
tug-of-warred for a few moments, then the red-haired one bopped the other
on the nose a good one, causing him to drop the truck in surprise.  The
truck flew out of both of their hands, landing at Sara's feet, and all
the children in the room suddenly dashed over to pile up on top of it.
    "Hey!" Sara yelled at the pile of small children before her.  "Stop
that!  Someone could get hurt!"  But they acted as if they did not hear her.
    The pile began to disperse.  Most of the children wandered away,
sulking, while the lucky little girl on the bottom of the pile waved her
new truck triumphantly, and wandered off into the corner to play with it
alone.
    The genie snapped his fingers again.


    "Don't do that!" Sara said to him.  "Where are we this time?"
      Sara looked around.  She was in the very same room.  The same
characters painted on the walls, the same toys scattered about the room,
even the same children.  No, wait--none of these children were sulking
alone;  all of them were playing quietly, either alone or in small
groups.  There weren't any toys laying around unused.
    "I don't get it," Sara said to the genie.  "Are these the same kids
or aren't they?"
    "Keep watching," he said simply.
    The door on the far side of the room opened, and again a grownup
entered, carrying the same shiny red truck.  Once again the grownup
handed the truck to the nearest child, and again she walked out the way
she'd come.  Again the boy admires the truck gleefully, and places it on
the floor to begin playing with it.
    A little red-haired boy in the center of the room, until now playing
quietly with a yellow toy car, handed the car to his companion and walked
up to the boy with the new truck.
    "What are you playing?" he asked of the boy.
    The boy with the truck looked up at the redhead.  "This is a grocery
truck taking groceries into town," he said.  "See, here's where it takes
all the groceries, and here's the way it has to go."
    "Can I play?" asked the redhead.  "I'll be the truck driver, and you
can be the man who runs the store and tells me where I have to drive it."
    "Okay," said the other boy, handing over the truck.  "Here's the
road, and here's the store."  He traced out a winding path on the carpet
and the red-haired boy began to move the truck along it, making vroooming
noises with his lips.
    The genie snapped his fingers once more.

    Sara looked around at her room, soaking up the feeling that she was
back home and everything was normal again.  The door to the room opened,
and Michelle walked in carrying a big piece of chocolate cake.  "Mom
said that if you were quiet and did not pester me, that I should give you
this cake."