Gypsy Rugs’N Stuff

Sherry wandered among the bustling crowd in the crowded flea market, ducking in and out of the colorful vendors’ stalls that lined the path.
She stopped at a booth with a sign that read: “Gypsy Rugs’N Stuff.” She peered inside; the room was filled with rugs and tapestries in a rainbow of colors, unlike anything she had ever seen. Sherry’s breath caught as she surveyed the dazzling array of textiles. “Oh my gosh, look at those tapestries!” she exclaimed.
The vendor, a wizened old woman who looked like she could have walked straight out of the Wizard of Oz movie, smiled back with a crooked grin. “Com’n me girl, com’n,” her voice crackled. “Wut tickles thee fancy t’day?”
“Those colors are amazing!” Sherry gushed as she stepped inside the tent. “I’ve never seen such vibrant shades before—all those reds, purples, greens, yellows, and oranges.”
“They be made by me clan in N’Orlns, for nigh two hun’rd years,” the old woman wheezed.
“I must have one,” Sherry said. “Now I just need to decide which one. They’re all so gorgeous!” She browsed the collection, oohing and aahing until she found one that made her gasp. The tapestry featured two kaleidoscope butterfly wings that sparkled in the light, capturing the eye with mesmerizing colors and geometric shapes.
She held it high, admiring how the wings gave the illusion of movement in the reflected light. “This one,” she declared. Moments later, tapestry in hand, Sherry left Gypsy Rugs’N Stuff, and visited more booths in the market, but nothing tickled her fancy the way the colorful tapestry did.
“Excuse me, miss, would you like a fresh pastry sample?” called a warm, inviting voice from a nearby stall. Sherry caught the tantalizing scent of sweet treats. Sherry turned towards the booth and saw a middle-aged woman with blue twinkling eyes and a friendly smile. She wore a red-and-white gingham apron and held a pair of silver tongs in one hand.
“They’re my specialty, a secret family recipe, and I make them with love. Apple fritters are fresh out of the fryer. Would you like to sample one, ma’am?”
“Sure,” Sherry answered. “I can’t think of anything better than a hot apple fritter to top off this wonderful tapestry I just bought.
“That is a beautiful tapestry indeed,” replied the woman. “Where did you get it?”
A few booths down, at ‘Gypsy Rugs’N Stuff” Sherry said. “Lot’s of cool rugs and tapestries — you gotta check it out sometime.”
Sherry took a bite of the apple fritter. “Oh wow, this is so freaking good! This fritter reminds me of the ones my grandma made when I was a kid.” Sherry savored the delectable treat and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Gotta admit though, I think this is even better than Grandma’s, and that’s saying a lot.”
The woman in the booth smiled and nodded with an appreciative expression. “Thank you so much. My name is Maude, by the way.” The woman stuck out her hand. Sherry took her hand and shook it. “I’m Sherry, glad to meet you.”
“This recipe has been in our family for generations,” Maude continued. “My family sold pastries here, going back nearly a hundred years, when this city was still a small town. People would come from miles around in their wagons, by foot, or by train just to taste them.”
Sherry finished the last few bites of the fritter sample, the exquisite flavors momentarily transporting her back to a simpler time. Her mind went back to the old Gypsy woman, whose family also had a long family tradition of many generations.
She swallowed the last bite and said, “What an incredible family legacy, Maude. I wonder, do you know that woman at the rug and tapestry booth? It seems her family also has been making her products for generations, just like yours.”
“I don’t know her,” said Maude. “I’m so busy here that I rarely meet the other vendors. Maybe I should introduce myself someday. I would love to learn about her family history.”
“Well, you’ve just made me your newest devoted customer, so I’m going to help you carry on your family legacy. I’ll take two more fritters, two berry-filled Danish pastries, and a half-dozen old-fashioned donuts.”
Half an hour later, Sherry arrived home. “Hey honey, come get some pastries and donuts, ” she called to Matt in the study,” They’re the bomb.” He came into the kitchen and reached for an apple fritter. “Oh, yum!” he said, his voice muffled by a mouth stuffed with sweet goodness.
“Follow me,” Sherry motioned to Matt as she walked to the living room.
“You’ve gotta see this tapestry I bought at the street fair.” She unrolled the tapestry on the carpeted floor and gazed at the intricate patterns and vibrant colors of the woven butterfly wings.
Matt walked over and whistled. “Well, look at that! Beautiful! Those colors!” He squinted at the tapestry and rubbed his fingers across the weave, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. “Ya gotta watch out for these,” he said.
Sherry frowned. “What do you mean, Matt? It’s just a tapestry.”
Matt hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a gypsy tapestry, I think. Am I right?” Sherry nodded.
“I read somewhere that these tapestries can contain some kind of voodoo curse or something placed on them. Or maybe it’s an encoded secret woven in somewhere. I really can’t remember,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought. He met her eyes and winked.
“Aww, you’re kidding, right?” Sherry protested. “A curse? Really?” She peered at the tapestry, looking for any kind of irregularity in the weave or pattern that might show something hidden. Nothing stood out. “Do you really think this could be hiding something?”
Matt chuckled. “Nah, I’m just playing with you, honey. I don’t believe in that voodoo nonsense.”
“But now you’ve got me a little scared,” Sherry said, her voice wavering with doubt. “It’s so beautiful, but I don’t want to bring a curse into our house. Do you really think there might be…” her voice trailed off.
Matt shrugged. “Nothing to it, babe. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just a tapestry. A silly superstition or an old wive’s tale or whatever.”
Sherry nodded, but Matt’s comment had piqued her curiosity more than frightened her. “Yeah, it’s just a tapestry,” she agreed.
But in her mind, she already knew what she was going to do. She could hardly wait to visit the gypsy woman tomorrow to learn about the tapestry and the family that made it. And she knew she might “accidentally” wander by Maude’s booth and have to buy some more of those delectable sweet treats as well.
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