It started off like any horror story should, it was a dark and rainy day. Too cliche? Happens.

I arrive at work, not feeling well. There was an air of something ominous, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

I checked the computer to see if there was anything I should be aware of, but it seemed business as usual. Perhaps I was letting my imagination get away. Too much reading lately.

Hours passed, customers were pleasant, coworkers were fun. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then...she appeared. I know not from where, but I knew I was doomed. Doomed I tell you!

“I need these in a size 6, now.”

“Might I measure your foot?”

“No. I think I know my own size. Get on with it.” With that, she snapped her fingers, and away I went.

I handed her the size 6, and my heart filled with dread. For I am a size 6, and I clearly see this was not the case. Nor was it a difference in UK or US sizing. She had a larger foot.

Grunting and struggling, she tried with all her might to get the wee size 6 on, and failed.

“You know, ” said I. ”That style runs small. Let me measure you.”

”Fine.”

I grab the trusty brannock, and yes, she was a size 10. I run to grab it for her.

She tries it on, and looks pleased. Whew!

”What size is this?”

”Um, 10, but it's just a number.”

The room grew cold. I felt my life draining away.

”Never have I been a size 10.”

”Your feet change over time, ” I informed her.

”ARE YOU CALLING ME OLD??!!” Her voice grew shrill.

I then knew fear. Other customers fled in terror. My traitorous coworkers left me to my doom.

”Not at all! You've just had many adventures!” I tried to to reason. Opps.

”Let me see your manager.”

It was then I knew. An ancient evil awakens.