The Tale of Sidi Numan

In the prosperous trading city of Cairo, where the mighty Nile flows like liquid silver beneath the ancient stones, there lived a young merchant named Sidi Numan. He was known throughout the bazaars for his honest dealings and gentle nature, though at twenty-five years of age, he remained unmarried—much to the concern of his elderly mother.

“My son,” she would say each morning as she served him his breakfast of dates and honey, “when will you take a wife? The neighbors whisper that perhaps you prefer the company of your books and ledgers to that of a loving woman.”

Sidi Numan would smile patiently at his mother’s words. “Dear mother, I have simply not yet found a woman who captures my heart. When Allah wills it, the right bride will appear.”

And indeed, it seemed that Allah had heard his words, for one morning as Sidi Numan conducted business in the spice market, he caught sight of a young woman who took his breath away. She moved through the crowd like a gazelle, her dark eyes sparkling with intelligence, her graceful form draped in silk the color of emeralds. When their eyes met across the bustling marketplace, Sidi Numan felt as though lightning had struck his very soul.

Her name was Aminah, and she was the daughter of a respected cloth merchant from a neighboring quarter. Her beauty was renowned throughout Cairo, but what captivated Sidi Numan even more was her wit and gentle manner. When he formally requested her hand in marriage, her father consented readily, for Sidi Numan’s reputation as an honorable man was well established.

The wedding was a celebration that lasted three days and three nights. The couple’s happiness was evident to all who saw them—Sidi Numan gazed upon his bride with the devotion of a man who had found his other half, while Aminah seemed to glow with contentment and love.

For the first month of their marriage, their home was filled with laughter and joy. Aminah proved to be not only beautiful but also an excellent manager of household affairs. She oversaw the servants with kindness but firmness, prepared delicious meals that filled their home with enticing aromas, and in the evenings would entertain her husband with stories and songs that made him forget all the worries of his business.

“Truly,” Sidi Numan would say to himself, “Allah has blessed me beyond measure. What man could ask for a more perfect wife?”

But as the second month of their marriage began, Sidi Numan noticed a troubling change in his beloved Aminah. During the day, she remained the same loving, attentive wife, but when night fell, she would become restless and distracted. She would pick at her food during dinner, claiming no appetite, and would often stare out the window at the darkness with an expression he could not interpret.

“My darling,” he asked one evening, “you seem troubled. Have I done something to displease you?”

Aminah turned to him with a smile that seemed forced. “Oh no, my beloved husband. I am simply… adjusting to married life. Pay no attention to my moods.”

But the strange behavior continued and even intensified. Aminah began to eat less and less, claiming that rich foods no longer agreed with her. She would often excuse herself from their evening meals entirely, saying she preferred to dine alone in her chambers. When Sidi Numan expressed concern about her health, she would laugh it off, insisting she was perfectly well.

More disturbing still were the nights when Sidi Numan would awaken to find Aminah’s place beside him empty. When he asked about her absence the next morning, she would claim she had simply gone to pray or had been unable to sleep and had walked in the garden. But there was something in her eyes—a wildness, a strange gleam—that made him uneasy.

One night, as the full moon cast silver shadows through their bedroom window, Sidi Numan awoke to the soft sound of the door closing. Through the latticed window, he glimpsed Aminah’s figure slipping silently through the garden toward the outer gate. Her movements were strangely fluid, almost animal-like in their grace.

Torn between respect for his wife’s privacy and growing concern for her welfare, Sidi Numan made a decision that would change their lives forever. Wrapping a dark cloak around himself, he followed her at a distance.

To his amazement, Aminah moved through the sleeping city with the confidence of one who knew these nocturnal paths well. She glided through narrow alleys and hidden passages that Sidi Numan, despite having lived in Cairo all his life, had never seen. Her pace was swift and purposeful, and he had to hurry to keep her in sight.

Eventually, she led him to the ancient necropolis outside the city walls—a place of old tombs and crumbling monuments where few dared venture even in daylight. The sight of his beloved wife entering this city of the dead filled Sidi Numan with dread, but his love compelled him to follow.

Hidden behind a large stone sarcophagus, Sidi Numan watched in horror as Aminah approached a freshly dug grave. To his utter amazement, she began to change before his very eyes. Her beautiful human form seemed to melt and shift, revealing something altogether different and terrifying.

What emerged was no longer his gentle wife, but a ghoul—a creature of the night with wild hair, glowing eyes, and terrible claws. With savage hunger, the thing that had been Aminah began to feast upon the corpse that lay in the grave, tearing at the flesh with unnatural appetite.

Sidi Numan’s heart nearly stopped beating. His hand flew to his mouth to stifle a cry of revulsion and terror. The woman he loved, the wife who had shared his bed and his meals, who had laughed at his jokes and sung lullabies in the evening—she was a creature of darkness, a ghoul who fed upon the dead.

For what seemed like hours, he watched in frozen horror as the ghoul consumed its grisly meal. When it had finished, the creature once again began to transform, resuming the beautiful human shape of Aminah. With the same fluid grace she had shown before, she made her way back through the city toward their home.

Sidi Numan remained hidden until she was gone, then stumbled back to his house in a daze. He arrived to find Aminah already in bed, apparently asleep, looking as innocent and beautiful as ever. But now he knew the terrible truth, and the sight of her filled him with revulsion and fear.

The next morning, Aminah greeted him with her usual loving smile. “Good morning, my dear husband. You seem pale—did you not sleep well?”

Sidi Numan could barely bring himself to look at her. “I… yes, I had troubled dreams.”

“Poor darling,” she said, reaching out to touch his forehead with the same hands that had torn at flesh in the darkness. “Perhaps you are working too hard. You should rest more.”

For days, Sidi Numan struggled with his terrible knowledge. How could he continue to live with a creature of such evil nature? Yet when he looked at Aminah during the day—cooking his meals, tending to their home, laughing at his stories—she seemed so perfectly human, so genuinely loving, that he began to doubt what he had seen.

Perhaps it had been a nightmare, he told himself. Perhaps the stress of new marriage had caused his mind to play tricks on him. But deep in his heart, he knew the truth.

The situation became unbearable when Aminah began to show renewed appetite for food during the day. She would eat with apparent relish, praising the cook’s efforts and seeming to enjoy every bite. But Sidi Numan knew now that this was merely a performance, a mask to hide her true nature.

One evening, unable to bear the deception any longer, Sidi Numan decided to confront his wife directly. As they sat together after dinner, he took her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Aminah, my beloved wife, I must ask you something, and I beg you to answer me truthfully.”

A flicker of something—fear? cunning?—passed across her features before she composed herself. “Of course, my husband. What troubles you?”

“Where do you go at night when you leave our bed?”

The change in her demeanor was immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes grew hard and cold, and her grip on his hands tightened until her nails began to dig into his flesh.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice taking on a tone he had never heard before—low, dangerous, inhuman.

“I have seen you, Aminah. I followed you to the necropolis. I know what you are.”

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then, slowly, Aminah began to smile—but it was not the loving smile of his wife. It was the terrible grin of a predator whose prey had walked willingly into its den.

“So,” she said, her voice now clearly inhuman, “my dear husband has been spying on me. How… disappointing.”

Before Sidi Numan could react, Aminah began to transform. Her beautiful features contorted, her skin took on a grayish hue, and her eyes began to glow with an unnatural light. But this time, the transformation seemed only partial—as if she were caught between her human disguise and her true nature.

“You were not supposed to discover my secret,” she hissed, her voice now like the rasping of dry leaves. “We could have lived happily together. I genuinely cared for you, Sidi Numan. You were kind to me, and kindness is so rare in this world.”

“But… what are you?” Sidi Numan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I am what I have always been—a ghoul, a creature of the night. But I am also what I became when I married you—a woman who learned to love.” Her form continued to flicker between human and monster. “Did you think love could change my nature? Did you hope that your affection could transform a creature of darkness into something pure?”

Sidi Numan found his voice. “I don’t know what I thought. I only know that I loved you—love you still, despite what you are.”

Aminah’s expression softened slightly. “And I love you as well, in the only way my kind can love. But now that you know my secret, I cannot remain. A ghoul discovered is a ghoul that must flee.”

“Stay,” Sidi Numan pleaded. “We can find a way. Perhaps you can learn to resist your nature. Perhaps—”

“No,” Aminah said firmly. “My nature is not a garment that can be removed. I am what I am, just as you are what you are. Love cannot bridge every gulf, my dear husband.”

She moved toward the window, her form now shifting more rapidly between human and ghoul. “Remember me as I was during our happy days,” she said. “Remember the woman who loved you, not the creature who deceived you.”

“Aminah, wait!” Sidi Numan called out, but she had already leaped through the window with inhuman agility.

He rushed to the window and looked out into the night, but she had vanished into the darkness as completely as if she had never existed. All that remained was the faint scent of jasmine—the perfume she had worn on their wedding day.

Sidi Numan never saw his wife again. He made inquiries, searched the city, even visited the necropolis where he had first discovered her secret, but Aminah had disappeared from the world of men as suddenly as she had entered it.

In time, the pain of his loss began to heal, though it never fully disappeared. Sidi Numan eventually remarried—a good, honest woman who gave him children and a peaceful home. But sometimes, on nights when the moon was full, he would stand at his window and remember the woman who had been both his greatest love and his most terrible discovery.

And on such nights, he would wonder whether love could truly exist between creatures of different natures, or whether some gulfs were simply too vast to bridge—even with the strongest of hearts.

Thus ends the tale of Sidi Numan, a reminder that love can bloom in the most unexpected places, but that some secrets are too terrible to bear, and some differences too fundamental to overcome. Yet perhaps there is wisdom in loving fully, even when we know such love cannot last forever.