This poem is for the Ragtag Daily Prompt word : Carpet
Here’s my Arabian Tale …
The Arabesque Carpet
The rock fell away beneath heavy strikes of the pickaxes. Bright and strong sunlight poured into the cavern which revealed itself in the barren desert floor.
“Jackpot, right where it’s supposed to be.” Morgan Hammel wiped the sweat from his face and drank a bottle of water down in one go. His name was known the world over as an accomplished treasure hunter.
“I never doubted you, darling.” Sylvia ran her fingers over his bulging muscles and kissed his exposed sun-reddened pectoral muscle. She made no attempt to hide how much she adored watching him flex his muscleman physique as he worked.
Morgan pulled on his Stetson and tied off a rope. “Let’s go get rich!” he hooked the rope about his waist and lowered himself inside.
Sylvia was soon at his side. “Must be that way,” she said motioning to the only route out of the entry cavern.
Morgan nodded his eyes drinking in the Persian carved arch adorning the passage wall. Heading inside, he flashed his torch about looking for clues to confirm his research. This should be the vault belonging to an Arabian outlaw named Omar Saba from the sixteenth century. The man was purported to be a disgraced adviser to the then Maharaja of Shibam the great walled city. Saba apparently stole more riches than he earned and fled before he could be beheaded for his crimes. He and his riches were never found. Until now, Morgan hoped.
“These niches are all empty aside from a strange substance,” Sylvia noted her voice echoing along the passage.
“Wax, these were candle niches.” Morgan scooped a tarantula from his leg and tossed it to the floor.
“Great, I hate spiders!” Sylvia swung a boot at it and recoiled as it reared at her defensively.
“It’s fine. It’s the scorpions we need to watch.” Morgan raised his torch and continued along the yellow sandstone passage. It ended in a small squared-off cavern.
“So, where are the riches?” Sylvia asked.
Morgan scanned the room and picked up a single gold coin. The only other manmade object was a rolled carpet leaning against the back wall. It’s turquoise and brilliant red and gold threads looked as good as the day they were woven together centuries ago.
“Great, we found the world’s oldest carpet.”
“This is a Lotto Carpet. It would have been completely hand-knotted and woven. It’ll be worth thousands.” Morgan grabbed the carpet, swore and recoiled.
“What is it? Was there a scorpion?” Sylvia asked fearfully.
“No, I think I got an electric shock.” Morgan touched the carpet again. This time, feeling nothing he unfurled it on the stone floor. The arabesque foliage patterns and palmette designs were mesmerising.
“How could it shock you? If it gained static that would have dissipated years ago.” Sylvia gingerly stepped on it and shrieked.
The whole carpet shuddered and slipped away from her.
“What in the world?” Morgan scratched his chin with shock rippling through him. He knelt by the carpet and ran his fingers over the fine threads.
The carpet shuddered and rucked itself against his hand.
“It – It’s alive!” Sylvia began undoing her boot laces and slipping her feet free.
“What are you doing?”
“Arabian’s would never stand on such a carpet with shoes on.” Sylvia put a barefoot on the carpet and this time it permitted her to stand on it. “See.”
“Amazing!” Morgan followed suit. He felt as if the Carpet was infusing his body with positive ions which charged every cell in his body. Instinct had him sit cross-legged on the carpet.
Sylvia did the same and then it happened. The carpet rose two-feet off the floor and glided from the room.
“Un-bloody-believable!” Morgan gasped as he was carried along the passage and up out of the cavern. “I was wrong this thing is worth millions!”
“A whole new bank account!” sang Sylvia.
The carpet came to a stop fifty feet above the desert.
“For you and for me my darling.” Morgan kissed her. “That’s if we ever learn how to fly this thing and get down!”
Have a great day!