The Flash Fiction I Wrote for Inner Writer

partone

The Shoes at the Edge of Tomorrow

Today I woke up and the world is broken. I’ve read about people having their shoes knocked off when hit by a train or a bus. But there are no trains, no skid marks, no blood or bodies. Just shoes. Far in the distance the sky is lighter, too light, without explanation.

The lack of sound, as if it were vacuumed out of the air, surrounds me. It fills my ears, creating a buzz of nothingness inside my head. I smash-kick a shoe out of my way to make it stop.

I love old houses, especially those which are weathered, neglected and left in ruins. I planned my weekend, charged up my camera battery, packed my map and left my hiking boots by the door. I’m photographing the derelict, forgotten houses but they seem less abandoned today.

The road is full of empty shoes and no one to wear them.

Leave a comment