Velvet Runs Deeper Than Blood

Clo had been by Colt’s side her whole life. She was stitched up in the Himalayas from the finest cashmere and red velvet, and was gifted to Colt when he was born. She was large enough that she could be used even when he’d grown into an adult. Colt loved and treasured her, often bragging to his friends - “Hah! What do YOUR rugs have on mine? Clo’s like a dry, fluffy cloud!”. When he grew into a teenager, she was the only one he’d spill his woes of pain and heart-break to. During those cold nights, whenever he would flail about in a restless sleep and kick her off, she would gently wrap up his exposed feet and ensure that he was warm and safe.

One day, Colt plonked on his bed and excitedly said - “Check out this ring, Clo! I spent nearly all my savings buying it! I’m going to propose to Sel tomorrow!” Buzzing with excitement, he was on the bed for nearly three hours before falling asleep. The adult Colt didn’t have friends, and Clo couldn’t really communicate with him. He didn’t even know she was sentient. Clo was glad that he would finally have a partner he could talk to.

Just before the crack of dawn, a low creaking noise alerted Clo. Rugs couldn’t see, but she could feel any disturbances in the house. She sensed a short, shadowy figure enter the room. He carried a dim torch with him. He moved it around the room, until he noticed a glimmering piece of jewelry on the bedside table.

“He’s going for the ring!”, thought Clo. “I have to stop him!”

She blanketed herself around the ring, securing it in her folds. The burglar’s eyes went wide, but he could not stop now. He took out his knife and slashed the rug, trying to reach the ring. After many failed attempts, he resorted to stealing the entire rug. Panicking, Clo tossed around wildly, knocking over a lamp in the process. As soon as it fell to the ground, Colt jolted up. Taking in the scene, he leaped out of his bed and threw a punch at the assailant, who went flying into a wall. The torch fell from his hands, it’s light spilling on to the flopping rug.

“Clo…? You can move?”

While he was distracted, the thief raised his pistol and took aim. Mustering up all her energy, Clo tightened herself into a rope and, straight as a rod, shoved herself into the muzzle of the pistol. The trigger was pulled, and Clo felt her body burn up with agonizing pain. The bullet almost completely ran through her, stopping a few inches short of the end.

“CLO!!”, yelled Colt as he threw another punch at the burglar, knocking him out.

Clo felt her conscious fade.

The next few days were a blur. Clo spent her waking hours, which were few, fighting a losing battle against death. The first time she awoke, she was on Colt’s lap on a plane. Then, they were riding on wolfback across snowy terrain. The third time, they were in a village atop a mountain. All around them, far as the eye could see, stretched a cloudless, deep-blue sky. She knew that this was the last time she would wake. The next time she faded away… it would all be over.

“To die in a place like this, in the arms of my childhood friend… Not a bad death at all.”

Just then, she felt something familiar, a sense of… nostalgia from one of the huts. She weakly jerked in the direction.

“Want to go there?”, murmured Colt.

He opened the door to the hut, only to be greeted by an old man with calluses on his fingertips. The walls and floor were lined with luxurious rugs of all shapes, sizes and colors. At the center lay an intricate wooden box.

The old man took one look at Clo and snatched her out of Colt’s hands. He sat cross-legged on the ground, back turned towards Colt. Pulling cashmere and red velvet out of the wooden box, he began working the art he had spent a lifetime perfecting, his fingers bobbing and weaving through Clo’s seams.

“This is the only one I have ever given away, boy”, he growled. “If anything should happen to this rug…”

His threat did not scare Colt one bit. After all, if Clo died, what was left to lose?

After hours of nerve-wracking anticipation, the old man sighed and stood up. Stretching his back, he turned to Colt and said “She’ll be fine. The toughest rug I ever made, this one. But she has to choose. You understand, don’t you?”

While he was waiting, Colt noticed that all the other rugs in the hut seemed to be shifting around as well. He nodded at the old man.

Kneeling beside Clo, who looked fluffier and shinier than ever, he stroked her and said “Hey… How are you?”

Clo wiggled around, contentedly.

“Listen, Clo. I love you, you know I do. But mine is a dangerous profession. One day, I might not come home. What then? Someone might come along, cut you up for scraps… or worse. Wouldn’t it be better for you to stay here, with your siblings, and live out your life with your family?”

Clo was filled with a sense of dread. What if he really did die? The human world was no place for lonesome rugs. She would not be able to survive alone.

Then she remembered Colt’s expression on the plane, how hard he had to search to find the village, how he bragged about her to his friends as a boy… and realized there was nothing to think about. With a firm flap of refusal, she wrapped herself tightly around Colt.

The old man smiled as Colt’s eyes filled with tears. “Looks like she’s made her choice.”

A few days after they reached home, they heard a loud noise at the door. Tensing up, they prepared themselves. The door opened, and behind it… stood a pretty woman with blonde hair.

“You’ve been gone for weeks! WEEKS, Colt! I thought you were DEAD!”

Stuttering, Colt mentioned something about gunshots and sentient rugs.

“Colt… If you want to end things, at least tell me to my face!”

With tears in her eyes, she turned towards the door.

Colt ran towards her and grabbed her hand.

“Sel, I’m sorry! I wanted to propose to you earlier, but…”

Clo coiled around the two of them like a soft snake. From within its folds emerged a resplendent gold ring.

Smiling, Colt said “Will you marry me?”

Clo already know the answer. Twisting around contentedly, it knew that its family had increased by one.