The Rug

The wooden walls of the shack were wet because of the latest rain, letting the cold biting wind in through the cracks. There was a pot of steaming hot soup on the stove.

Sitting at a wooden crate, the boy finished the last spoonfuls of broth in his plate. He looked at his mother, who had been sleeping on the couch for awhile. Then he went to bed with his two older brothers. The three of them were used to sleeping on a large mattress on the floor. He pulled the old torn covers above his head and, despite the cold, was soon fast asleep.

The boy was suddenly awaken by a loud tap on the window. He carefully removed his eldest brother's arm, which was resting on his shoulders. He got up trying not to make any noise and approached the window.

“Who is it?”

No reply. Even though he was scared, he decided to open the window. He got up on the wooden crate to reach the locking mechanism and pulled the wooden panel. A cold drift came into the shack. The boy crossed his arms around his chest, shivering.

“Who is it?” he repeated, afraid he would wake up his family.

He got frightened when he saw the small rug floating in mid air.

Trembling and hesitating, he got up the window sill and tried to reach the rug with one of his feet. The rug took off and the boy almost fell, but he managed to hold on to the edge and was finally riding it.

The flying rug cut through the glacial night air at full speed. It dodged a cumulus nimbus and went through the ozone layer, reaching the infinite space, going around the Moon and crossing the rings of Saturn.

They went past stars, comets, and nebula, got away from black holes and explored galaxies. They visited Neverland, El Dorado, the Olympus, and even the smallest planet of all: the B612 asteroid.

Finaly, the rug parked in front of a palace. The boy got down and walked through a large entrance gate. He went into the main room and walked up some large stairs. He reached a corridor, opened a door and climbed up on a bed with a headboard, and laid under the soft warm blankets. He was fast asleep soon.

The next morning, with the first rays of light, he heard a light tap on the tall castle windows. There was the rug again.

MARTHA ANGELO was born in São Paulo in 1967. She graduated in Languages and Literature at the São Paulo University and works with projects that promote reading habits among children and teenagers.

Her first book, O guardião da floresta [The Forest Keeper] was published by Editora Biblioteca 24 horas. 

She also writes short stories, chronicles, children's tales and poetry. Her material is available at two blogs: O guardião da floresta [The Forest Keeper] and Mistura de letra [Letter Mix]. Additionally, she collaborates with A suprema arte [The Supreme Art] writing chronicles and movie reviews.