Each month the Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine holds a “short short” contest where authors submit a 250 word story to go with a picture. The picture for this story was a shoe rack hanging in a closet. Unfortunately, my story was not chosen as a winner, but here it is for your enjoyment.
Mom says my shoe fetish started when I was three and I fell in love with a pair of Minnie Mouse tennis shoes. Thoughts of shoes were all around me as my yellow rain boots squeaked on the sidewalk and the stilettos I had just purchased bounced at my side. I hurried through the wet weather and into my apartment.
Suddenly, a hard shove on my back pushed me through the door, and a glance over my shoulder showed a hooded burglar sprawled where he had slipped on the stoop of the front step which had turned into a small lake. My mind immediately flashed on flyers that the apartment manager had handed out about the break-ins, and I ran for my bedroom and locked the door.
Frantically I dialed 911, but the intruder’s first kick shattered the wood and his second kick carried him into the room with me. Dropping the cell phone, I turned to the sixty pairs of shoes in my fall and winter collection for defense.
The first of my Danner’s hiking boots took him on the chin and the second one hit his groin. Next came my “Red Hot Chili Pepper” boots from Lane. Those and a few more left the stranger staggering.
Finally, I unsheathed my new black stilettos and ran screaming at him, dissecting the air to the left and the right. My assailant dashed from my apartment and was identified later that night by the heel impressions on his face and body.
All stories are original content by Kent Ostby unless otherwise noted.
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