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Back The Wild Ones Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR The Wild Ones
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. The Beginning, or How Paheli Became the First Wild One; With a Cameo by Taraana, the Boy Made of Stars.
  7. An Introduction; Hold On to Your Hats.
  8. The Sweetness in the Sugarcane, or The Impractical Nature of Immortality
  9. Paheli: The Vagrant Experiences of a Mango Addict
  10. Cotton Candy Sugar Screams
  11. From the Book of MEMORIES
  12. “Will You Walk into My Parlor?” Said the Spider to the Fly.
  13. The Best Ice Cream in the World, Teddy Bears, and a Tree Creature.
  14. From the Book of MEMORIES
  15. I.
  16. The Reappearance of the Boy Made of Stars and the Plight of the Girl by the Oleander Lane.
  17. Paheli: An Interlude in Blue
  18. Besieged in the Between
  19. Tea, the City of Stairs, and the Story of a Boy
  20. From the Book of MEMORIES
  21. Heartbreak, Stone Buildings, and Tandoori
  22. Observations, Conversations, and Hot Parantha
  23. Paheli: The Spies Who Came In from the Between
  24. From the Book of MEMORIES
  25. The French Quarter, the Spanish Half, and Eulalie
  26. Paheli: The Eggplant Overture
  27. Sunny Jelly Beans, Po’Boys, and “Alouette”
  28. From the Book of MEMORIES
  29. The Keeper of the Green and the Mysteries of Magic
  30. Blood and the Between
  31. The Library of the Lost and the Stories of the Silenced
  32. Walking in Wicked Ways or The Importance of Balık Ekmek
  33. From the Book of MEMORIES
  34. Looking for the Needle in the Haystack
  35. Paheli: The Peculiar Crackle in the Electricity
  36. Ten Degrees Past Despair
  37. The Fault in the Stars
  38. The Blue City in the Mountains
  39. Paheli: Disharmony in the Attics
  40. From the Book of MEMORIES
  41. Paheli: Continued
  42. The Politics of a Body, the Politics of Pleasure
  43. The Medina, the Riad, and the Red City
  44. Paheli: The Atlas Mountains, the Cozy Rooftop, and the Confession, Possibly of Love
  45. From the Book of MEMORIES
  46. Souks, Spices, and Survival: A Guide into Chaos
  47. Jemaa el-Fna: The Mosque at the End of the World
  48. Paheli: A Moment in Chartreuse
  49. From the Book of MEMORIES
  50. Paheli: On the Frailties of the Heart
  51. Sonagi, or A Sudden Rain
  52. Paheli: The Cheese in the Trap
  53. Paheli: The Maze and the Minotaur
  54. A New Era, a New Dar; the River Sings
  55. The Burning Door, the Fallen City, and Taraana 2.0
  56. Paheli: The Beginning of Forever
  57. From the Book of MEMORIES
  58. Moving One Rock at a Time Will Eventually Move a Mountain, aka Goodbye
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. More from the Author
  61. About the Author

If I had wanted to escape the men, I could have done so in a hundred other ways. I could have hidden in a corner or blended in with a group of tourists, but we all have things we can’t do. I can’t let the fear rule me. I will not run away. So, I make sure the men are following and head to Farah’s square, stopping right in the middle of it.

The men follow me into Farah’s square, crowding me with their physical presence. Since they came so willingly, they must not have heard of the danger this little piece of the Jemaa el-Fna poses. Or perhaps they do not give credence to any rumors they may have heard.

Still, how can they not feel her? Do they not sense her in the frenzied beating of their hearts? One of the four men frowns and looks around, as if something in the air has disturbed him, but the rest are serene, confident of the power they have and think I don’t.

“Lead us to the keeper and you will go unharmed,” one of the men says. He uses magic to throw up a veil that makes us invisible to all observing eyes. “If you don’t cooperate, you will get hurt.”

I do not reply.

The red-bearded man steps nearer to me and opens his mouth, and at that moment the air crackles with lightning, though the night sky is clear. The men all freeze—but it is far too late.

She is there in the lack of color in their cheeks, in the swallow of their throats, and in the sweat dotting their foreheads. She is there in the pain that peels their lips back in silent snarls.

See, the magic is ripe in the Jemaa el-Fna, and ripe magic is strong magic. Strong magic intoxicates middle worlders and gives strong ghosts a bite that they usually don’t have. I step around the unconscious bodies of the four men and leave Farah to her meal.

From the Book of MEMORIES

AREUM

CITY OF ORIGIN: SEOUL

Midnight peeked before it passed

and found me with my petticoats up

observing my legs in horrified detail.

When did I become a monster?

Paheli: On the Frailties of the Heart

I.

It is late afternoon in Gamcheon Culture Village in Busan, South Korea, when I finally get there. The shadows are thick and sunset perhaps less than an hour away. The days are short this time of the year.

It has been five hours since I sent the girls ahead. Two since I left Marrakech. I wonder how they feel without me. Do they feel relieved? Have they realized my presence is unnecessary? Are they worried? Carrying a story on your own is difficult.

Taraana must be angry.