Sheik The Shapeshifter

The Prompt: a woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She’s unaware that she’s actually been dating the same guy over and over, a shapeshifter who’s fallen for her, and is certain he’s going to get it right this time.


A thousand and one Arabian nights…you’ll need about a thousand more to get through this one. We’re talking black magic meet modern romance. Sheik is a Jamaican warlock living in Queens struck by Cupid’s arrow on the walk back from the bodega. Somewhere between the exhaust fumes and the piss-soaked cement, a wave of fresh lavender strolled through his little enclave— the 5x5 stoop he called home while Mrs. Robinson went to the factory.

Lavender…rose…bergamot…his first reaction, though, wasn’t love-struck…it was gentrification. By now, his relationship with the yuppies was complicated. They always smelled so…different. Different but nice. He never knew he had an affinity for Chanel or whatever the hell a 20-something grad school student thinks they can afford.

Yes, he can shape-shift. In fact, most guys can and they ain’t got any magic. Sheik was a lover of lovers. He loved love like flowers love the sun. He soaked in it, breathing it in, letting it oxygenate his full soul. Our man was the kind of boy who sang love songs as a cub. He felt each poetic line like it was his last.