Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  58 / 145 Next Page
Show Menu
Previous Page 58 / 145 Next Page
Page Background


Walk In

My Shoes



Isobelle Carmody Award

for Creative Writing

Highly Commended

The amber sun melted into the horizon, as its remains seeped into

the flocculent clouds. Soft lavender and rose danced across the sky,

mixing in with the aura of tangerine that enwreathed the dying sun.

The last flashes of the gleaming golden rays of sunshine swiftly

climbed to the top of the buildings. A faint cool breeze brushed past

me, whispering as it ran. It ruffled my hair and I wrapped my coat

tight around me. My pace quickened and the sound of my feet

against the grimy footpath ricocheted off the sleeping downtown

buildings. The old lingering smell of cigarette smoke crept into my

lungs and consumed me, causing me to wheeze. My breath was a

pale puff.

I was a block away from home when I heard it. At first I thought

it was just a creature of the night, stalking some innocent pray to

devour, yet… my mind wandered. I stopped and let my ears adjust

to the mysterious racket in the distance. The faint sounds seemed

to be emanating from the street to my left. My curiosity got the

better of me, I crept towards the intriguing sound. A street light

flickered above, making the path ahead seem intimidating. My

heartbeat quickened as sinister silhouettes of trees eerily swayed in

the bitter breeze. As I got closer, an array of voices emerged from

the hubbub, frantically jumping and dashing in the wind.

“Get off me!”

“Give it back!”

“You pig!”

As I advanced further still, I could clearly hear the frenzied

sharp sound of high heels pounding on the road, just around the

corner. Both the screams and my pulse hammered violently in my

ears. I stopped walking and braced myself momentarily for what

was just beyond the bend. I knew whatever I was about to face I

could be the hero; I would be the hero. I would do the right thing

and would have to do the right thing. I clenched my fists and

strode on.

I was horrified. Before me stood a lanky man wearing an

enormous tawny trench coat, he was looming over a petite lady.

Despite the dim shafts of light flickering from the shabby street

light, I could clearly make out the towering male figure seizing a

salmon-pink purse from the lady’s small fragile fingers. All while

aiming threatening abuse towards the innocent young woman. My

stomach churned and my fists clenched so tight I felt my fingernails