Killer Shoes

on October 30, 2009 in Horror

“Well, these are nice,” the woman said, looking down at the black pumps at the end of her long legs, bare beneath the hem of a miniskirt. “But I’m looking for something really killer.”

“So you keep saying,” the fastidious salesman said.

Not turning her head, she shot him a glare out of the corner of her eyes. She hadn’t liked his attitude when she’d come in, and it had only gotten worse the longer she stayed in his dingy little shop. She was already half an hour past the end of her lunch break and not only had he failed to produce the shoes she was looking for, but she was pretty sure he was rolling his eyes at her when she wasn’t looking.

“Perhaps if you could elaborate on what it is you’re looking for?” he said.

“I’ve told you,” she said. “I need a pair of really killer shoes for a party tomorrow night.”

“Well, are you looking for something with a tasteful heel, or…”

“I told you at the beginning,” she said. “I don’t care about any of that in particular, I just want the best pair you have. Something killer.”

“But ‘best’ is relative to taste, and of course, there’s also the matter of coordination,” the man said. “Perhaps if you could describe the outfit you’ll be wearing with…”

“Don’t be impertinent,” the woman said. She kicked the heel of one of the shoes she was wearing against the floor to dislodge it from her foot, then did the same with the other. The salesman winced. “What I wear is none of your business. You obviously don’t want me here, but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of storming out. I’m not leaving until you bring me a pair of really killer shoes.”

“One pair of ‘really killer’ shoes,” the salesman said. “Got it. I will be back with you in a moment.”

He walked over to the door and flipped the sign on it around, then headed into the back of the shop. He came back out half a minute later, holding a pair of sleek black shoes with high stiletto heels and a faint pattern like snakeskin.

The woman looked at them doubtfully.

“Are you kidding me with these?” she asked.

“I assure you, I’m not,” he said. “These are the most killer shoes in the store. You won’t find a pair like them anywhere else, and what’s more, I don’t bring them out for just any customer.”

“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to try them on,” she said. She sat down on the bench with a long and aggrieved sigh. The salesman handed her the shoes and then stepped back towards the window. She slipped one on and found it had a pretty decent fit. She put the other one on.

“You may feel a little pinch in the toes,” the salesman said.

She gave him a withering look.

“I guess you don’t know much about feet,” she said, as she rose to hers to try walking around in the killer shoes. “These fit perfectly.”

The salesman twisted the rod to close the blinds as the woman took her first step. The smugly superior look on her face turned into a grimace of pain and she screamed as she suddenly felt a biting prickle in the fleshy part of her big toe.

“‘Little’ pinch?” she said, rounding on the salesman. “What are these, some kind of trick… hey, what the fuck?”

It was as if whatever had nipped at her toe had decided that it liked what it found. The front of the shoe flexed, widening around her toes like a mouth opening, and then it closed, severing the tips of her toes with an audible crunch. The shoe wriggled back further up her feet, something in the toe of it munching and crunching as it went.

The woman screamed in pain and reached for the ravenous footwear, but then the other shoe lurched to life. She tumbled over backwards, landing hard on her backside as the shoes worked their way through her feet and towards her ankles. The back ends of the shoes and the long heels flexed to encircle her legs to pull the really killer shoes along. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to kick them off , to no avail.

“Please help me!” the woman begged as the shoes contorted and stretched themselves out to take in her calves. The wet smacking sounds they made as they devoured her legs were almost obscene. The right one, which had received a bit of a head start, was nearing her knee.

“But I have,” he said. “You asked me for really killer shoes, and I gave them to you. Now, let’s see how you will be paying for them today. Apart from the obvious.” The salesman grinned like a Halloween pumpkin as he went and picked up the handbag the woman had left on the bench. “Oh, you’ve got quite a few credit cards, I see. Fortunately, we take all of them. Things are going to get a little messy when they finish your thighs, so I hope that you will excuse me if I don’t stick around much longer. If you’re very lucky, you won’t, either.”

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7 Responses to “Killer Shoes”

  1. Lysaea says:

    Woohoo! This piece was a riot! Excellent work as always AE =)

  2. Lysaea says:

    Oh – forgot to mention in the first comment – there’s some pronoun/gender agreement problems early in the story – one at the beginning of the third ‘graph, and one near the end of it.

  3. AE says:

    Thank you, I literally wrote this first thing when I woke up this morning… before I even got out of bed. I’m surprised it’s coherent.

  4. Nikoda says:

    As someone who has worked in the field of high fashion shoes, I greatly appreciate this piece. lol I’ll admit I never had a customer quite like her. Most were more clear with what they wanted then they would get pissy when the snakeskin patterns on the pair didn’t match up just so or the six inch heel didn’t make them quite tall enough. But I definitely had some I’d have let the pair of really killer shoes eat if I’d had a set hiding somewhere in the back. This was great.

  5. zeel says:

    nice. i saw death comeing soon as they kept saying “killer shoes” over and over. . .

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  7. Natalie Ford (natalief) says:

    zeel: So did I, but it was so well written that I read on and did enjoy it, even if I predicted the ending in my head. Nice one AE!

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