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Keep Them Safe, He Said

Keep Them Safe, He Said

A Story by Libby Carsons
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A short story on a 'marriage' gone awry with a mixture of a peculiar foot fetish.

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Keep Them Safe, He Said

 

            The steaming steak sat crookedly on the table when she heard the footsteps walk through the door. Her hands fluttered over to the plate and centered it perfectly before returning to her rigid posture. She looked down at her bare feet. The front door slammed shut and a man walked into the humid kitchen.

            “Pumpkin, I’m home,” the man said. His size ten feet marched up to her.

            “Welcome home,” the woman replied with a stiff smile.

            The man cleared his throat. “And what do you call me, my wife?”

            “My husband. Welcome home, my husband,” she said, head down.

            “That’s more like it,” he approved.

“Dinner is served.”           

“Thank you, Pumpkin,” he handed his coat to his wife.

            “Can I get you anything else?” The wife asked, backing away.

            “No, you may go.”

            Her sweaty toes tiptoed over to the living room to look at the tall stairs that led upwards and turned around to open a small door that was behind her. A flight of wooden boards took her down to an empty room. The cement walls insulated the low temperatures of the earth. From upstairs, the silverware shrieked against ceramic.

            Thirty minutes later, there was a scrape of a chair and footsteps that led away, up the stairs towards the master bedroom. Right on cue, the woman tiptoed up the stairs. The dining table was empty, chair pushed back and abandoned. Neat black shoes lay out by the toes of the table.

            As instructed, every night, she set her husband’s black shoes by the front door, just how he liked it. She had to keep her own feet soft, just how he liked them. She had seen all his products laid out neatly in his shower rack. Foot Odor-Be Gone, Softer Heels Scrub, and Hydrate Your Feet! was just part of his collection. There was shampoo and even conditioner for the hairs on his toes. On top of that, there was an entire cupboard filled with feet scent perfume. Little bottles of colored water sat, waiting to be daintily sprayed onto the flat, burden-carrying limbs.

            The upstairs water pipes started up, signaling her husband’s shower, giving her exactly thirteen minutes to eat. She quickly heated up some leftover vegetables and bread in the microwave. The seconds counted down as she listened to the sound of the rattling shower pipes. She could almost hear the scrubbing of the dozen feet products. As she nibbled on the soggy, brown bread, she stared down at her icy feet.

            There were no scars on her soft heels yet she unconsciously rubbed them with her hands. Her long nails tickled her heels and she found herself laughing aloud. The last time she had laughed was a lifetime ago.

She was with someone else, running through the grass. Feet, bare. They had spent the whole day walking. Simply walking, not having a care about the scratches on her heels. Was it a friend? Or a sister maybe? Did she even have a sister? She couldn’t remember. It was a lifetime ago.

“Pumpkin,” a voice said behind her. She immediately jumped out of her seat and shattered the plate onto the kitchen floor. Some pieces embedded themselves into her naked feet.

            “Oh God!” She exclaimed with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Immediately, she bent down and started cleaning the mess up, leaving the pieces in her bleeding feet.

            “My dear,” he bent down next to her. “Be careful. Your feet are fragile. Keep them safe.”

            She didn’t meet his eyes but nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

            “Its okay,” he shook his hand and reached out to touch the dripping blood. “Clean this up.”

            “I will.”

            “Goodnight, Pumpkin.”

            He left the room with sticky footsteps, leaving a strawberry scent in the room. After dumping the ceramic pieces into the trashcan and wiping her red feet, her ears paused to listen for her husband snoring. Satisfied, she swung the front door open and looked into the dark forest covered in woodchips, rocks and branches. She was just about to step forward. Her foot hesitated in midair, inches away from the forest ground. She had no shoes.            

© 2012 Libby Carsons


Author's Note

Libby Carsons
I like any kind of feed back. But I absolutely love criticism, suggestions and advice for improvements. Thanks :)

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Reviews

I feel like you are off to a good start. The ending has got my wondering. I am definately left wanting more and intrigued about where this story is going. Very well done, just work on the ending.

Posted 8 Years Ago


THis interesting and entertaining, but the ending is not satisfactory. It needs more of a twist or a point.

Posted 8 Years Ago


Libby Carsons

8 Years Ago

yes, i feel like it is lacking something too, thanks for the reading! i will work on it

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Added on November 23, 2012
Last Updated on November 23, 2012
Tags: marriage, wife, husband, feet, strange

Author

Libby Carsons
Libby Carsons

Brooklyn, NY



About
I'm a student studying in New York, studying interior design and trying to find the meaning of passion. On what it really means to feel it, to be affected by it. Wondering if writing is my passion. I.. more..

Writing