Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Feet - Fifty Word Story



She loves summer because she loves showing off her perfect feet. When winter comes, she refuses to cram her beautiful toes back into tight, unnatural leather. However, the shoemaker won’t consider a cast until she lets him touch her sole. She doesn’t say he’s not the first. Or the last.

7 comments:

annie clarkson said...

I like this..

I have to comment on the very weird shoes that look like gorilla feet though... that's that all about?

Leatherdykeuk said...

Lovely piece - love the sole / soul analogy

Kathryn said...

She could hardly believe the shiny tan ankle boots on display. She went into the shop and slipped them on. How marvellous that her feet were worthy of such salacious celebration. Her internal censor was apoplectic. i WOULDN'T BE IN YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU GET HOME, CINDERS! Stuff the prince.

Sarah Salway said...

I know, Annie! It was in Venice last year - I suppose it was to make people stop and look, which worked!
Thanks, Leatherdykeuk, and thanks too, Kathryn. That one's great. Boo to the internal censor.

Douglas Bruton said...

It was dark in the shop. Air thick with dust. Smelling of polish and glue and leather. A small man sat on a high stool behind the counter, nails in his mouth, hammering a soul to a boot. But such a boot that would make a dancer of the wearer.

Douglas Bruton said...

Cindy stopped at the window every day. On her way to work, and on her way homewards at the darkening of the hour. Stopped to look at the yellow shoes behind the glass, imagining dancing in those shoes, later catching a prince wearing them. But Cindy’s purse was still empty.

Douglas Bruton said...

Sarah,
I have been there. I have seen those leather feet and thought there must be a troll under a Venetian bridge who does not want to get his feet wet. How wonderful to be reminded of them when I had forgot.

Ta

D