As the last pesky genies found masters, you hear thunder off in the distance. As you make your way back to the foyer, you see sand falling from the cranks in the ceiling. Eventually it starts coming down in droves, you start to run. You see the lobby in sight but as you cross the threshold it vanishes.
Your gait slows as your feet catch in the sand. The sun beating down on you in the dry desert. Your breathe catches in your throat from the aridity. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead, but evaporates just as fast. Dazed and confused, you start to question what had happen. Did it happen at all? Was it just the heat playing tricks with your mind?
There was no palace with spiraled domes of Indonesian blue, no polished alabaster walls. There was nothing; just an endless ocean of sand and a cloudless blue sky.
When you think you may have lost your mind, your foot kicks something metallic. Gazing down you see a small lamp poking out of the ground.
You pick it up and dust it off. It vibrates and if it couldn't feel warm enough, it gently heats against your hand. Smoke filters out of its spout and forms into a familiar figure. "You called, Master?" the genie said.
As if the heat hadn't baked your temper already, "Get me home!" you shout.
"As you wish, Master."
THE END
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