Shoes

 

Rating: PG
Genre: Odd. Some satirical humour.
Setting: a town
Main Characters: none really

Note from the Authoress: this is odd… seriously… my brain was seriously deranged when I wrote this!!

 

Part 1

 

Such a little thing, barely any purpose in life other than to keep its owners feet dry from the onslaught of the elements, be it rain, wind, or a lump of dog mess, shoes protect the feet from the dire nastiness of the world. But unbeknownst to all who bask in the glory of the simple shoe, they hold a darker and more deadly purpose. Many scoff at the idea of such a simple thing causing so much devastation in life. Yet it has all happened before, and who can stop it happen again?

 

Journey back through the dark passageways of time, back before modern conveniences made life simpler, and made the prospect of the shoes dark ambition nothing more than an absurd joke, merely used to scare small children on Halloween. Back when no electrical appliances broadcast so many different scopes on this dark tale, back to the time that nobody could think of it as just a dream.

 

Our tale starts in a small town. Through the twisting cobbled streets people went about their everyday lives, wearing shoes to protect their feet. The rain was pouring down, on the day it started, casting a gloomy and depressing light over the town. The flickering of the old lamps, protected from the onslaught of rain and wind only by the ash stained glass which surrounded the flame. The light they gave off was barely enough to pierce the dull light that had fallen on the village. The wind was cold and fierce. Every shoe in sight was soaked through, and some caked in mud. The shoes were plotting more than ever. Stuck in a never ending cycle of being forced to tramp through the endless mud and rain soaked streets, their desire to show their true purpose burned far more fiercely than the flickering streetlamps.

 

All over the town the shoes were stirring, a deep hatred and desire for revenge deep in their soles. They wakened eerily as if from an uneasy slumber. Through the harsh sounds of the crying wind and lashing rain, they plotted their plans as the night wore on.

 

A scream pierced the early morning. In a small house, in a small alleyway leading from the main road, a woman ran out of her house, tears streaming down her face. At the same instant a man from across the street shouted out in horror, and he too ran out. They stared at each other for a moment, pale and confused. Neither wanted to say what was wrong both feeling that they would get the blame. Yet, in a way, both were to blame. Lying in the woman’s house, in the kitchen, lay her husband, his chest covered in slash marks, blood staining the pale beige tiles that decorated the kitchen floor. In the mans house, in the bedroom, lay his wife, strangled by the sheets that had covered her body, now devoid of all life. Both the man and woman would forever wish they had taken their shoes off before entering the house. That is, if they lived long enough to realize that it was the shoes that had taken over them, compelling them to forcibly steal the life from their partners.

 

And for the next few days the shoes took over the townspeople’s bodies, murdering any living soul they came across. The streets, normally a dull brown hue, were stained a permanent red. And the shoes lust for revenge didn’t abate. The people tried to fight against this terror that plagued their town, yet no solution could be found. And the murders were becoming far worse with each day that went by.

 

Out of fear and with no alternative, a council was held, to discuss what to do about this menace of shoes. The people filed in, one by one, and took their seats. They watched as the chairman walked up to the podium.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you know why I have called you here! The shoes are threatening to wipe us all out. We must decide upon an appropriate course of action to get rid of this abomination.”

 

Many ideas were given. They involved drowning the shoes, melting them with acid, or simply burning them. Yet humans remain incredibly ignorant. Even the most intellectually challenged slug would have the sense, when going to a meeting on how to destroy the shoes, not to wear shoes to the meeting, although this has never yet proved a necessity for the slug. Quite the opposite, instead of wearing shoes slugs tend to be squashed rather heavily by shoes. This has eliminated any desire the slug may have had to wear shoes in the first place. Yet none who attended shared this slugs brilliant idea. Each one wore their shoes to attend. And the shoes overheard their plans. The scenes of massacre in the town hall that followed would have made the slug race think they were lucky.

 

The shoes took over each and every person. With a disregard to anything, one of the possessed townspeople smashed the window, taking up the shards of glass, and ripping quite a few others to shreds. In the meantime, a couple of the possessed people were strangling the people sitting next to them. The riot continued, and the piles of carcasses lay in a disorderly fashion on the floor. When it was all over, with only one last person was standing, the one who had smashed the glass, the shoes that possessed the man forced him to walk down the street and throw himself into the river that wound around the outskirts of the village.

 

He drifted downstream, his life slowly ebbing away, rounding a corner. The river ran much faster, and he was dragged under, the last remaining inhabitant of the village drowning in the flowing waters.

 

Yet even now the shoes live on. And the incident in the town is lost to the world, as none survived the village. But now I hear you ask, if none survive now who know of this terrible tale, how can I be telling you? Remember, shoes are everywhere! Perhaps you should have been suspicious earlier, when an unknown voice spoke in your ear this tale of horror. But shoes are such everyday object, who would ever question them…..

 

THE END