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In this haunting reimagining of the timeless warning, 'Be careful what you wish for,' a young man discovers an ancient lamp. Driven by curiosity over caution, he unwittingly unleashes a formidable Ifrit; a fiery genie fueled by vengeance and bound in blood.

At first, his wildest dreams come true. With his best friend Kevin, the two revel in their wishes coming true. But what begins as fantasy soon mutates into a nightmare. Each wish comes with a price, each blessing warped.

Dark, suspenseful, and laced with creeping dread, Aaqa is a haunting descent into the seductive pull of power, the weight of ancient curses, and the terror of realizing too late that the greatest horror… is getting exactly what you asked for.

When I was young, I loved visiting my grandmother’s house. Days there felt endless. Bright mornings filled with laughter, the clatter of dishes, the rhythm of arguments and reconciliations, the comfort of family. But when the sun sank behind the horizon, the house itself seemed to change. Its very bones creaked with a different language, whispering dread.

Dictionaries call dread “an anticipation of fear.” They’re only half right. Dread is more than fear; it’s surrender. It’s standing in a place where control slips from your grasp, where your body is yours yet no longer obeys.

The path from my grandmother’s bedroom to the kitchen was lined with rooms I had to pass, rooms that felt alive after dark. The bathroom, silent and cold. The dining room, a hollow space. But worst of all, the storeroom.

The storeroom’s door never stayed shut. Morning after morning, we closed it, certain of it. But by nightfall, it was always open. Sometimes cracked, sometimes yawning wide like a mouth. And no matter how many times they fixed the bulb, the light never survived the night. It always popped, leaving that room drenched in an unnatural, suffocating dark.

Whenever I needed something from the kitchen, I could only get as far as that door. My legs would lock, as if the darkness itself had reached out and clutched them. That was dread—pure, paralyzing dread. I could turn back, I could run, but moving forward was impossible. My body betrayed me every single time.

I would flee, breathless, to my grandmother, my mother, my aunt. They would go fetch what I needed, but always together, never alone. Not even the adults could face the storeroom’s midnight hunger without backup. Only my grandmother walked through without hesitation and when I asked her about it, she smiled and told me it was just my imagination. As I learned later in my life, my imagination could not conjure what that house could but that is a story for another day.

Back to the storeroom, I never saw anything there. There was no smog or mysterious fog, no sounds or whispers, and no shapes or demons. Only that still blackness, watching me from the corner of my eye, waiting for me to look back. I never did. I couldn’t. Its not that I didn't try or didn't want to, its just that there was something more powerful that made me realize it was not worth it. Maybe my sixth sense, maybe something else.

And so I ran. Every time, I ran. Defeated,

overwhelmed, swallowed by dread.

It was this exact sensation that I carried into writing AAQA. Yes, the book bleeds with gore, but gore alone is not fear. Fear is powerlessness. Fear is when dread chooses for you, when your body decides the outcome before your mind can fight back. For Josh, that dread is his constant companion, the unseen grip on his choices, the knowledge that something greater and merciless owns him. That same cold helplessness I felt as a child before that door is the nightmare he lives with every day.

Before I let you go, I have to ask. You clicked on the lamp, didn't you? If the lamp was real, AAQA would be your story. Read up!