Inside Her Hilly Heels
She got out of the tube station and turned right. That’s right, she was always told to stand on the right,talk right, walk right, do right, say and be right and yes she loved turning rights without knowing why. Who was she anyway, she was told to think. She was in her bloodiest conflict when she accepted that, she was attacked and frightened when she didn’t. Yes she was belittled like every other feminine soul with a hole, she was no one, she was small, she was insignificant, she was nothing. Hence she always wore the highest hills to feel a little significant.
She passed by some shops, some faces appeared and disappeared around her. People seemed to be forbidden to look at each other when they walked on that street and on every other street in London; the city that was in love with itself, the city that sold pride to those who lacked it at the cost of their smiles.
There appeared two men; they saw where she was and what was happening inside her hilly heel;no they could not smile either. Her feet were pulsing in her head now. She looked at them, could not see them but fear them. She began walking faster on her hilly heels.
“Beauty has a high price,” a woman whom she admired exclaimed in her mind. She walked on, to the known, feeling pulled by her unknowns.
“No you should not go!” said her mother.
He was there, standing in front of a book shop. She saw him and walked back to the tube station.
“Yes, you should go and have fun,” said the woman whom she admired. Her heart breathed for a few seconds.
She walked back to him.
“You are nothing more than a little hole, no matter what you in this world!” shouted her father.
She hated him, she wanted to go and punch the young man in the face.He was waiting for her in the cold and dry weather. She felt ashamed of what she felt; ashamed of what she wore, ashamed of being there. Her feet pulsed in her head again, she was not there and she walked back to the tube station.
“No, no woman no cry!” sang an unknown singer in the long corridor of the dark underground. She looked at him and a child cried in him and a mother cried. She stood by him and pretended to be waiting for someone. She listened to the song and looked at the other souls diminishing on the hilly heels. The sound the heels murdered the song just like they murdered women’s souls.
“He is still waiting there,” whispered her conscience. She wanted not to care but she could not.
“You know it is not his fault,maybe he will be your best inmate,” suggested the trapped part of her soul.
Her heels hurt even more and they felt too small. She walked out of the tube station again and stood by the big iron door. She looked at the grey sky, she looked at the endless crowd.She closed her eyes, it was all dark; there was only pain now; pain of her small hilly heels.She looked right, he was still there. She was now convinced that the love he believed did not need heels.She walked towards him.
He was not there when she got there maybe he never was.
She walked back home. She broke the heels and threw them to the roof of the school.
“Heels and those endless sleeping pills,” she exclaimed, standing by the window that viewed the school.
She smiled and she never wore heels again.
Hello everyone, thank you for your ingenious replies to last week’s story.
Here is the this week’s story “Inside Her Hilly Heels” which explores the love-hate relationship between women and heels.You have just read the firs t half and you know what to do next. Complete “Inside Her Hilly Heels” as insightful and creatively as you wish to, bearing the following questions in mind.
Why does the protagonist of “Inside Her Hilly Heels” wear high heels and how will you reveal her reasons and when in the story?
What makes her unhappy and lost?
What do those two men see in her hilly heels?
Who is she going to meet?
And of course what is going to happen next?
Happy writing dear ones. Have a wonderful weekend and week.