I’m a little disappointed with myself on this freewrite. It was fun, don’t get me wrong! In the interest of time I missed the chance be more creative in my approach to a certain type of magical object. I have to remind myself that this exercise is supposed to get the creative juices flowing, and it’s not a system to produce perfect ideas on the first try. I’d love to see how others interpret these prompts, so please comment or link back to your own site so that I can see!
Character: Librarian
Object: Rug
Genre: Speculative Fiction
Simone cursed and shuffled on stiff legs over the dusty floor to the spiral staircase. The library closed three hours ago, and it was dark outside, time to read and study and drink tea with milk. The bell, which visitors rang when they showed up after hours, was sounding over and over, echoing off the stone walls, vibrating in Simone’s skull, and disturbing ghosts and sprites that hovered in the corners; who would be calling so late?
When she finally dragged the heavy doors open, no one was there and she glared out into the darkness, but before she closed the doors, she saw a saggy cylinder on the ground. She nudged it with her foot: it was a rolled-up rug. And when she nudged it with her foot, she felt a zap in her toes.
She lifted the carpet, it was well made with a thick pile, it would definitely keep her feet warmer when she sat studying for long hours. As she hoisted it onto her shoulder, she lost her balance and nearly fell into the moat. She thought she’d done a good job of balancing, but then she realized that the rug itself was starting to hover, it was lifting her feet off the ground and she barely had a hold on it.
She tried to regain her grip on the bulk of the rug, but it just started unrolling. She kicked down trying to reach the ground with her toes, but it continued to slowly drift upward. Well, if it wouldn’t let her down, she’d climb up. So, she used her book seasoned muscles to haul herself onto the rug. It rippled along the edges and she felt crazy thinking it: it seemed happy.
As it turns out, she didn’t end up using her mystery rug to keep her feet insulated near the fire much, but rode on it to shelve books on the highest shelves, and to chase the hovering sprites out of the corners when she dusted. And she definitely cursed less when the bell rang after hours, because no one wanted to bother the grumpy librarian who came swooping at you on a flying carpet shouting about hours of operation.