Haleh and the Golden Thread

By Morgan J. Manns

Haleh hunched over her loom at the back of her parents’ rug shop, a knot tightening in her chest as her father tried to reason with their most difficult customer.

“It takes time, Amir… You’ve asked for a large rug…” Father’s voice wavered. “We need another month. Remember, good things are worth the wait.”

Amir scoffed, pounding his fist on the counter. “If it isn’t done by next week, you’re only getting half the payment.”

With thundering footsteps, Amir stormed out of the shop, the bell above the door jingling wildly.

Haleh released a sigh.

Mother reached over to place a hand on Haleh’s shoulder. “We have to keep going, Haleh. The rug won’t weave itself.”

Haleh nodded, her aching fingers selecting the next woolen string, dyed a crimson red. Mother gave Haleh’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before returning to her own side of the loom.

Amir’s words lingered in the air like a putrid perfume. If they couldn’t finish his rug in time, they’d lose half their commission. Her jaw tightened as she added the crimson thread to the loom’s vertical strings. She hated being dependent on that horrid man. He was a constant thorn in their side she wished she could pluck.

Meticulously, the women weaved. The hours stretched, and Haleh’s fingers begged for release. Finally, the evening sun shone through the window, signaling the end of another exhausting day.

Just as Haleh tied off the last woolen line, the entrance bell announced a late customer’s arrival.

As Father returned to the front of the shop, Mother wordlessly passed Haleh a broom.

Grasping the handle, Haleh began sweeping the floor, gathering loose threads.

“Amir?” Her father’s incredulous voice asked.

She froze. What was he doing back?

“You’ve returned. We haven’t yet finished—”

“Zayd, my friend!” Amir’s voice boomed. “Forget about that oversized monstrosity. I have a new commission for you.”

Haleh clenched her hands around the broom, her gaze set upon the half-finished rug. All their hard work, the precious wool, the aches she endured—Amir wanted to cast it aside as if it meant nothing?

Her seething was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of gold clattering onto the counter, followed by a gasp from Father. “Amir, this is far too much.”

“This is for your haste and… discretion. I need the new rug by tomorrow evening. Don’t worry, this one is only a fraction of the size.”

Haleh bit back frustrated tears. She’d have to work through the night to finish a new rug.

Amir’s unusually good mood persisted. “Also, I’d like you to incorporate this… special thread into the design. That is of utmost importance.”

Special thread? He’d never brought them thread before. She wiped the tears from her eyes, curious.

Father gasped.

“Is that—” Father cleared his throat. “Of course, Amir. We would be honored to complete this rug for you.”

Haleh’s lips formed a tight line. Amir always got what he wanted.

Once the dimensions were agreed upon, their most infuriating customer, once again, left the shop.

Haleh angrily flung her broom down, clattering it across the floor.

“I’m done weaving for Amir, Mother. There has to be another way to make ends meet.”

Her mother turned, startled by the sudden outburst. “Haleh! What has gotten into you? Yes, the man is dreadful, but we depend on his—”

Before she could finish, Father stepped through the archway.

In his hands, he held… sunlight.

Haleh’s mouth fell open. Beside her, her mother emitted a gasp of her own. The thread he held was… resplendent—a glittering gold emitting light as if made from fireflies.

He whispered, “I didn’t think it actually existed.”

Mother ran to Father and hugged him with enough force to make them stumble backward. “Zayd, the myths must be real!”

He grinned. “There’s only one way to find out.” Eyes sparkling, Father turned to Haleh. “I want you to have the honor of working on this rug. We don’t have much time, but I believe you can create something wondrous.”

She beamed at the trust he had in her. “What kind of thread is that?”

“Take it for yourself and see.”

With trembling fingers, she walked over and reluctantly took the bundle from her father’s outstretched hands. He gave her an encouraging nod.

The string was surprisingly light. She imagined if she let go, it would simply float away. She grasped it tighter, her hope renewed, and walked to an empty loom.

She sat with the golden thread and chose a deep blue counterpart. As the two strings met on the loom, the blue suddenly took on the same glow as the gold.

Haleh’s breath caught. “Father, how can this be?” She’d never worked with something so… magical.

“That, my dear Haleh, is thread spun by the gods.”

Her hands flew to her mouth.

Father continued. “I thought it was a weavers’ myth, but there’s no denying it. Just look at how it glows.” He took his wife’s hand into his own and walked closer to her loom. “This carpet will… fly.”

Haleh’s heart sang. A legendary magic carpet, like the stories she’d heard as a little girl! A weaver’s dream.

She turned back toward the loom.

Her parents watched, their faces set in unbreakable smiles as she carefully began crafting a gold and blue masterpiece. She could have sworn a breeze ruffled the loom every few minutes, swaying the thread, but the night remained calm.

She didn’t know how the likes of Amir came by magical thread, but it didn’t matter. She was done working for him. He was unworthy of owning such a treasure.

A slow smile spread across her face as a cunning plan formed in her mind. She finally knew what she’d do to trip Amir up and make him think twice about taking people for granted.

The golden thread pulsated in her hands as if recognizing its part in the plan.

Haleh’s heart raced with anticipation.

Tomorrow Haleh would fly, and Amir would fall.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Morgan J. Manns is a speculative fiction writer who firmly believes that the world needs more stories filled with magic and wonder. Captivated by the realm of intricate world-building since composing her first fantasy tale at the age of ten, she now ventures beneath the endless Canadian prairie sky with her supportive husband and two hobbit children, all while eagerly contemplating her next literary creation. While her current occupation is that of an elementary school teacher, her dream job will always be dragon rider, soaring through the skies of her imaginings.

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