Copyright William Hammett 2015, 2022
As you might
expect, the grandmother's name is Nana. She lives in an old Victorian home
in need of repair, a ramshackle house with wings and porches and
chimneys jutting this way and that like an uneven deck of cards. In the
basement, Nana weaves throw rugs on her antiquated loom. She makes them
with prayer and humility.
Across the meadow from her home is a modern town, on the edge of
which sits a factory filled with dirty orphans working oily machines from
dawn to dusk. The factory produces metal gizmos, although no one in
town knows what they're used for. They're shipped by rail to parts
unknown.
The orphans live in a large brick building near Nana's home. It's
dreary and looks like a prison, and in some ways it is. Sometimes Nana
sneaks into the orphans' dormitory and gives them extra food and a rug to
place next to their beds so that their feet will be warm on cold winter
mornings. But the rugs are imbued with Nana's boundless love of all
creatures. She doesn't know it, but the rugs are magic carpets. One
by one, the orphans are escaping, floating away in the night to families
who welcome them with open arms.
The factory manager thinks the missing children are just runaways. With
each passing month, the factory produces fewer and fewer gizmos. Nana's
flying carpet underground is slowly shutting down the factory with a
little prayer and humility. Not bad work when you can get it.
~William Hammett
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