Hi Everyone! It’s my birthday today so I decided I would post two stories! This is the second of the two, so check out the other one as well ;)

This is a symbolic short story, written for my English honors class. The symbol is the shoes and notice how they change the main character over time.

This doesn’t really fit with this prompt but I needed somewhere to put it.

I am a dark shade of gray, the color of a secluded cloud left after the actual storm has passed on by. I often wonder what it would be like to live the life of a sunset, with its golden yellow canvas mixed with flashes of purple and specks of oranges and blues. Most days my life belongs to gray, ruled by depression and meaningless fantasies.

The hallways around me are a harsh reality. Their black paint peels, revealing yellow stains, and the floor tiles crack, exposing the ground below. Students surround me, standing in jumbled clusters. They gossip noisily and slam their lockers with a "clang!" Lunchboxes in hand, the animals stand with hungry eyes, ready to pounce. I shuffle through the jungle with ease, too meager of a snack. They see me as boring, or they don't see me at all.

I abruptly turn to the left when I reach the end of the hallway. I hunt towards the lost and found box, carefully maneuvering through the disorder that surrounds it. I nudge discarded jackets to the side; their arms cling to my legs like vines, wrapping me up in their loneliness. Broken pencils roll out of my way as I reluctantly creep closer. I place both hands underneath the lid of the box and throw it open. The heavy wood smacks the wall behind it with a loud and aggressive "thunk!” I wince and look down the hallway to see if anyone heard my intrusion. No one looks my way, and I return to the trunk’s dark interior.

I rummage through the bin, sifting through clothes, notebooks, and lunch boxes. I search high and low, trying to find my black and green checkered jacket, the one with a syrup stain on the collar and the lingering smell of happier times. I run my hands along the edges of the box, studying each object carefully as desperation starts to set in. I try to conjure the jacket out of thin air, throwing my hands in circles like a sorcerer would do. My attempts are hopeless, and I begin to close the lid. A flash of blue catches my eye just as the cover reaches its halfway point. From deep inside the box, colors erupt from a pair of sneakers.

Curiosity takes over, and I pull them out of the box, ungluing them from the far left corner. I take a shoe in each hand and hold them up to my face, studying their vibrant shades of blue. They smell of a freshwater oasis and show no signs of wear. The outside of the shoe has a turquoise background littered with denim-colored polka dots. Aligned in the center is a bright-blue Nike swoosh, which welcomes me with a smile. Two tiny black dots sit above the swoosh. Although small, they peer back at me with forceful inquisitiveness, daring me to try them on.

Entranced by their gaze, I slip off my grimy old work boots and shove them inside the box before shutting the lid quietly. I grab the new shoes and step into them without any resistance. They have an interior snug like a blanket, but there is enough room left to wiggle my toes back and forth. I prop my foot up on the box and take a shoelace in each hand. I wrap one lace around the other before tugging tightly and knotting them into place.

I walk heel first, and with newfound confidence, I show off each shoe for as long as possible. My body is transported to the jungle, and I don’t shy away from the madness, my shoes acting as my protector. The animals’ curious gazes bounce up and down, studying me from head to toe. They stare at me as if I’m their leader, king of the apes. Their feral screeches melt away into oohs and ahhs as their eyes land on my feet. I draw them in with a spin, basking in their attention. Bodies move collectively, and chants rain from both sides of the hallway, pure chaos. We are a pack, backpacks bouncing on our shoulders as we walk, my colors guiding us to our next class. My head tingles with newfound joy. I’m one with the animals.

I snap back to reality and walk into my empty History classroom with the same dumb smile glued to my lips. I take my seat and pull out my Ziploc baggie, which holds my pencils and pens. It’s a pitiful-looking thing, with holes in the side and a pink star, which I’ve tried to rip off more than once. I set my backpack on the floor, but it immediately flops down on its back. I nudge it back up with my foot just as the classroom fills. I stick out my shoes from the bottom of my desk, showing them off, and I hide my used supplies behind my back.

From the opposite side of the room, a girl waves at me and giggles to her friends. I put on a brave face and act like this has happened countless times. I send a man-nod in her direction and slick back my hair with my hands, pretending I’m a rock star showing off for adoring fans.

The bell rings once more, saving me from any more embarrassment. The tapping sounds of heels grow louder as Mrs. Wilson strolls through the doorway. She claps her hands twice, silencing any lingering chatter. I let out a heavy breath and sink deeper into my chair, forgetting that my baggie still hides behind me. I feel it slide down the back of the chair as its contents spill out of the open hole, each object falling one after another. The supplies are a tidal wave that spreads across the carpet, drowning my shoes in a murky pit of despair. I feel everyone’s eyes snap on me so quickly that I barely have time to respond. My chest is a deserted ocean, so void of life it has lost its color. I look down at my shoes, which stare back at me blankly. I force an apology from my lips and bend over to pick up the fallen objects. I move my arms at an unhuman rate of speed, shoving everything back into the Ziploc baggie. Stashing the stupid bag deep inside my backpack, I shift uncomfortably in my seat as each set of eyes releases its stronghold on me.

Mrs. Wilson passes out a worksheet, but my eyes are drawn everywhere except the paper. It’s a lot easier to focus when you’re gray and invisible. The shoes frown at me, and I respond with an eye roll. Their sneer comes across as judgemental, and I try to forget I’m wearing them. It’s only slightly impossible because they squeeze my foot every time I look away.

“Chill out,” I whisper to them, but they only squeeze harder in response. My head feels a little dizzy, and a sickening feeling starts to spread throughout my body. As I stare down at my shoes, I notice they glow an even brighter blue, a color that tugs and pulls at the truth. I bite down on my lip and shut my eyes tightly as the guilt begins to settle in my stomach.

I focus on the ticking of the clock, its steady pit-pat is comforting, or maybe it’s more unsettling; I can’t decide. Its constant rhythm is a good enough distraction but nothing close to a cure. I reluctantly open my eyes and find my shoes trying to escape off my feet. They pull tightly, but the laces keep the shoes in place, for now at least. Sweat drips down my forehead, and I feel the anger building inside of me. I want to throw the shoes out of the window, but I’m interrupted as I start to untie them.

“Briiiiing…Briiiiing!” At the sound of the bell, I rush out of the classroom. I awkwardly stumble through the hallway as my shoes pull me forward. Suddenly, the animals are back. They clump around me, all their eyes drawing attention to my feet. The shoes are now a gloomy shade of blue, and I feel the gray collecting in my throat, ready to bubble over. My shoelaces drag across the tile, uncoiling as they smack the ground with each footstep. The shoes cackle at me, and their eyes taunt me. They spin around in slow-moving circles, distorting my view. I feel my shoelaces slip beneath the bottom of my shoes, the beginning of a calculated plan.

I spin around myself, dizzying even further. With each step, my laces catch and hold underneath each shoe, causing my body to be yanked forward. The ringing in my ears grows louder with each passing second. The beady black circles tug my chest forward, sending me free-falling to the ground. I smack the tile with a thud, and the laughter rains down on me as my teardrops soak into the floor. My mouth is filled with acid, ready to bubble over at any moment. A nauseating wave of guilt covers me, and the shoes force me back to my feet.

They puppeteer me down the hallway, their leash on me tugging at my sense of reality. My body is heavy, dragged down by the guilt that continues to swell inside my stomach. Each step towards the box is heavy, but the animals lose interest again and clear a path. They form their same clumps, and I feel the blue inside of me drain out in an instant.

I approach the lost and found box and eagerly throw off my shoes. Realizing their fame isn’t worth the guilty feeling, I toss the shoes inside the box and slam the lid shut. I take a few deep breaths before opening the lid once more. Propped on the top is my jacket, which I scoop up into my arms and throw around my shoulders. I then find my old boots, which suddenly don’t seem so bad.

At that moment, another boy approaches the lost and found. He smiles at me and I grin back, enjoying the attention. He opens the cover, and his face immediately lights up when he spots what he’s looking for. He pulls out the pair of blue Nike sneakers and slips them on with ease. The shoes glow in response, their mouth watering like a lost puppy finally returned home.

“Nice shoes,” I tell him.

“Thanks,” he replies. “They have been missing for a few days, and I was worried they were lost forever.” I only smile back at him, deciding to not tell him about my freaky experience. “You have a cool jacket; what’s your name?” he asks.

“It’s Evan, and thanks,” I respond. The weight in my stomach disappears, and I feel a new confidence settle in my chest. The shoes wink at me, a reassurance that I made the right decision, and for once, everything feels in place.

I am a light shade of gray, the color of a gentle moth flying free, not afraid of the other people around him but welcome to the idea of trying to belong.