58
Walk In
My Shoes
Sienna
Williams-Starkie
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
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