Fiction, Melbourne, Relationship and marriage, Weather

Persian Rug

‘Wanna go for a ride?’

Ant is sitting on a Persian rug. He wriggles his eyebrows as he asks the question. I assume he means a bit of nooky; I shake my head. It’s the last thing I want right now. In the back of my mind, a thought regarding the newness of the rug tries to claw its way forward.

‘About to head out. Grabbing a coffee with Kate,’ I respond.

‘Pip,’ Ant says. By now his eyebrows are jumping around so much it’s quite comical.

I suppress a giggle.

‘Pip,’ he says again. ‘It’s a magic carpet. Hop on. Let’s go for a ride.’

‘Yeah. Right!’ I say.

‘I didn’t believe it at first, either. But come on. I’ll show you.’

‘Where did it come from?’ I take a tentative step onto the Persian rug. My earlier thought makes its way to the forefront of my mind: I knew I’d never seen it in my home before.


‘Where will it take us?’


I sit down, with my back resting against Ant’s chest. He wraps his legs around mine, and his arms around my torso.

‘Ready?’ he asks.

‘I guess.’

‘Hold on.’

Ant shouts an indecipherable chant. Before I know what’s happening, the back door flies open, and the rug lifts off the ground. I squeal with delight and fear as the rug guides us outside. It hovers in our backyard. I squirm even closer to Ant; his arms tighten as we zoom upwards like a rocket.

Photo by Ryan Christodoulou on Unsplash

18 thoughts on “Persian Rug”

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