Killer Heels Pt One

First section of a ghost/psychological short story about a haunted pair of shoes

I recognised the box being pushed towards me, parcel brown, with slanting red letters spelling out the name of my favourite vintage clothing store. However the sight of it did not fill me with the excitement that it usually would have done. This was not a thoughtful surprise from my boyfriend, but a bargaining tool. I met his dark gaze with my grey one, already knowing what was coming. “Katie, baby, I love you.” His chocolate eyes stared into mine, unrelenting, working his magic. “You know she meant nothing to me. It's you I need.”          Tired words, said so often that they were beginning to lose their meaning. I wasn't angry, I had learned how to push that down inside me a long time ago. Stupid I know, what kind of woman lets herself be betrayed again and again? The thing is, Ben is not the type of man a girl like me would ever break up with. As attractive as I am plain, as funny and interesting as I am awkward. My boyfriend, the most attractive of clichés; tall, dark and handsome, with one of those smiles that makes all common sense run, tripping over itself, to the nearest escape route. So I forgive him, I don't like it, but what else can I do?

 

He left a short while after his apology, knowing only too well that forgiveness was already his. He promised to return with a Chinese and a bottle of wine, his 'treat', and I was left alone with the box that was supposed to heal the thousandth pinprick left by his carelessness, his infidelity. I slid away the lid and my breath caught in my throat, Ben's apology came in the form of 1930's vintage high heels, as dangerously sexy as they must have been when they were worn by their original owner. They were so black they shone, with spiked heels, so frighteningly sharp they resembled a weapon. A thin black strap perfectly designed to make the ankle appear more delicate was the icing on the cake, not one detail had been overlooked, they were a masterpiece. I felt an undefined emotion surge through me, like a slash of desire. Ben knew how obsessed with vintage clothing I was, it had been one of the deciding factors in my choice to study fashion at university. For me they are more than just items of clothing, they all come with a back story as if they had absorbed the spirits of all the people that have worn them before me. I can lose myself for hours, inventing the lives and secrets of people I have never met but feel I know so intimately. When I wear the clothes I feel completely unlike myself, I can adopt someone else's personality, hide behind another appearance, make believe that I am someone else.

 

Staring at the shoes in front of me I could almost see their original owner wearing them, sashaying purposefully down a 1930's London street. She would have been tall like me, but she would have had dark cropped hair unlike my sandy, mid length style. She would have had pale skin, but not almost translucent and prone to freckles like mine, but so creamy and thick that it would have contrasted alarmingly with her red bee stung lips. She would have smoked cigarettes from a long elegant holder, the scent of the smoke mixing alluringly with her heady musky scent. Not the kind of woman that any man would cheat on, but if he did, he would have been sorry. Slipping my feet into the shoes I was surprised at their warmth, it was as if she had just stepped out of them.

 

I turned to view my reflection in my dressing table mirror, the style of the shoes seemed to change the way I walked, my hips swayed more than usual. My whole body felt more loose, more in touch with sensation, my cotton blouse tight against my breasts, my tights hugging my thighs. Rifling through my make-up box I was uninspired by my usual styles. All the colours were too pale, uninteresting. Digging deeper I came across a deep scarlet lipstick that I did not recall buying, it's black casing stood out in such stark comparison to the other shiny lip glosses that it's presence in my collection surprised me. I tentatively applied the lipstick, it was thick and dark and instinctively my lips curled into a pout I did not recognise. But I liked it. I was no longer in the mood for staying in with greasy food, cheap wine and a cheating boyfriend. I wanted to be outside in the dark night, exploring this world I seemed to be seeing through different eyes.

 

When Ben eventually returned, he brought the smell of the pub with him. Stumbling across my small living room, his lips went straight to my neck, whilst his hands tangled in my hair painfully. "Mmm, you smell so good" he slurred, breathing hot whisky breath into my face, one hand still pulling at my hair whilst the other moved down to fumble gracelessly with his belt. Usually I would leap on any attention he paid me, pathetically ignoring my own feelings in order to keep him close to me, but tonight something felt different. For the first time in a long and miserable year an unfamiliar knife of anger stabbed me in the pit of my stomach, so strong I almost doubled over. I pushed him away with strength I did not realise I possessed. He stumbled backwards and in an attempt to regain his balance he grabbed blindly at my hair. I gasped as he pulled me over with him and as I struggled to release myself my foot shot out and the heel of my shoe slashed across Ben's shin, cutting clean through his trousers and into his skin. My body suddenly righted itself as Ben fell, my feet acting as if they had a will of their own. He staggered backwards clutching his leg and breathing hard.

 

His dark eyes fixed on mine once again, strange how only a few hours could change his effect on me so dramatically. The eyes that could crumble any resolve I had now only fanned the flames of my anger. By giving me the heels he had unwittingly made me about an inch taller than him, however it felt that I now looked down on him from a great height. My lipstick was smeared on this throat, the same colour as the blood that was dripping from the gash in his leg. I could feel my anger rising at the back of my throat, threatening to spill out in a tirade of words I would never usually say. I swallowed hard and managed to seethe “Get out.” He flinched at my voice, it sounded so unlike my own, it was slightly deeper, husky almost, like I had just finished a cigarette, even though I did not smoke. He opened his mouth, then shut it again abruptly. He stayed for a few more seconds before turning and stumbling towards my door. At the threshold he turned again and eyed me with a look of wonder on his face. This surprised me, I had been expecting anger or disgust, but my actions seemed to have intrigued him. Before the implications of this had time to sink in he was gone, weaving his way unsteadily down the stairs.

 

With trembling fingers I undid the ankle straps of my shoes and flopped down onto the bed. My anger vanished just as quickly as it had flared and with it went my energy and my new found confidence. Icy fear gripped my heart making it a struggle to catch my breath. What had I done? Would he ever speak to me again, and what would I do if he did not? I caught sight of myself in the mirror, what little colour I usually had was gone, making my lips appear darker in contrast. My nose wrinkled, the smell of whisky still lingered in the air, but now the alcohol was tinged with cigarette smoke and another velvety scent I could not quite identify, although it seemed vaguely familiar.

Author's Note

Would really appreciate some indepth criticism, be honest, I'm really looking to learn and improve

Reviews

[Annie]

This is very well written indeed, with a certain drive in it that keeps me reading on. The storyline is intriguing, and the pace is easy to follow. I sympathise with her, and find her and her emotions very real and authentic.

The only thing I can put my finger on, is that I feel there might be a "missing link" between when she puts the shoes on, and when she feels the surge of anger. The part with "...I was surprised at their warmth..." makes a certain link that I really enjoyed, but when the shoes pierce his leg it comes sort of out of the blue. Possibly could a short additional description of how she feels different with the shoes on help? This is only a suggestion, however, and a highly personal one at that!

That being said, I enjoyed reading it very much, and can't wait for the rest of it!

[bluessadmood]

this is great and incredible,lovely,he was a cheat and a liar,but the poor girl knew her limitations,and also knew his gifts ,though i would not accept such compromises on her side i would never act like her and give him allowances just to keep him by my side,men will act that way ,specially this one here he will always play around and cause heartbreaks one after the other.
Again i liked the turn of events you put here a small gift he gave her so she forgives him ,a high heeled shoes, it was a lovely thought ,thinking of who might have used those,she would go on thinking of a flashy lady ,tall distinguished,classy the one who will catch the eyes of all men,this gave her confidence and i liked that how a shoe will make such a change and its right ,life is really funny yes a shoe wear can make this change,she imagined herself walking in streets and bars by herself she could get any man she likes ,not just wait for this miserable cheat and liar,and it showed as he tried to flirt with her ,she remembered she was not that weak and it was a surprise to him that he deserves ,i just love how the shoe turned her into a real woman who can play her life as she likes ,its like this simple wear made he grow up and ,control her life and destiny as she like ,this is really a wonderful writing i really liked it a lot ,very thoughtful and exciting writing

[Annie]

You really did a great job with the changes! In my eyes there's nothing more you can do with it. It's perfect!
I especialy enjoyed the way he still didn't even seem to notice these (obviously big) changes when he came back from the pub. It shows how little attention he pays to HER, as a person.
Well done!