My Treacherous Boots

Have you ever give yourself a thought about something you loved most or something you had ever loved before? Are you still connected to that thing or somehow it had crossed your the pathway? How do you feel when it betrays you or when it is taken away from you or completely destroyed? There is only one theory that says the thing you cherished most can be compared to a life of a clay pot. It’s very fragile, so either you keep it safe or it can be taken away and also you can break it.

This had been a relationship between me and my beloved brown boots. I fell in love with them the moment I saw them in one the shops known as Shoe Zone. I could only describe it as love on the first sight. I wanted to purchase them the very moment I had seen them but alas I did not have the cash. I decided to buy them some other time when I know my pocket would be fine but at the same time I was also praying inwardly that the stock would not last before I possess them.

In a less than a week, the shoes were now in my hands. I loved; I kissed, and stroked them several times. They were appropriate for winter season which was due. My first time I wore them was one of the Sundays when I went to my local church. All the way to church by bus and from the church I received thousands of compliments about the shoes. I felt great and proud of my choice.

One morning I was rushing for the bus and while on the middle of the road my boots slipped violently that my legs were left at 180 degrees apart. I endured a great pain that I had to crawl to cross the road and fortunately there was no traffic close by. As weeks progressed, I put on my adorable boots once more and on this day it was raining. I was happily singing a chorus song as I walked down Littleton road heading to Salford student village and I was coming near the round-about when I found myself skidding aggressively not once but twice before my hands touched the ground. “Sorry! Are you OK,” I heard a male voice asking me. “Yeah fine. Its them boots,” I said as I pointed them with my fore finger. “I’ m glad that you are fine. I thought you were going to split into two because the way you landed was badly that I feared for your life,” added the caring male voice.  “Thank you”, I murmured with a girlish tone and the young man was gone. We were going on opposite directions. After a while I told myself that I should put away the boots for a longer rest.

Three months later after the last dangerous episode, I was tempted again to wear them. It was the same love that I had experienced when I first saw them that was now oozing from my heart to put the boots on. I grabbed and shoved them on to my feet.  Feeling content, I left my house and boarded one of the Stagecoach double-decker buses to Openshaw but my fate was still waiting to strike again. I walked safely on to the bus and it was when I was about to drop off from the Stagecoach motor vehicle when an accident occurred again with my boots. I had managed to descend carefully from the stairs and I was almost few inches from the door when my boots glided fiercely and sending my left leg front- wards and the right leg backwards in a quickest spilt that my body had ever experienced but this kind of split I had only witnessed on professional dancers.  If I was dancing, I think the spectators would label it as second to none split they had ever seen. I landed heavily on to the floor that left other passengers numb. They were terrified and some of them thought that I had actually broken one of my legs. “Are you ok”, they chorused. “Fine,” I said and tried to put a smile on my face. “I just need two people to lift, ple…” I was already up before I finished my sentence. Two gentlemen had managed to lift me up without any struggle. I was safely led out from the bus and made to relax. After the bus driver was satisfied that there were no complications or anything of life threatening on me, he resumed with his journey. He had thought of calling the ambulance but after I had assured him that I was well. He left nodding his head in shock. Apparently some people who had seen me falling down, they told me that one of my boots had stepped on an empty plastic packet of crisps which was lying on the floor. They were truly convinced it was the root of my split fall.

Back at my house, I packed my boots away where my eyes could not reach. I did not want to touch them again though my heart was aching for them. They had been in a “safe” place for almost five months. But today, early morning I was tempted again to put on them. It was the Manchester weather that had actually forced me to go and reveal the forbidden hidden treasure and that had always risked my life. Outside, it was raining and I thought it will be good again to have the boots on my legs and hence I am protected from the cold. I quickly fetched them from the clandestine place. I was on my deadly gear but this time I was not going far from house. I was going to a local shop to drop my some of my cakes for sale. I decided to board a bus though the place where I was going was only ten minutes walk from my house but I wanted only to utilise my weekly bus pass since I had one already and also avoiding the rains.

In three minutes I had already reached my destination. I alighted from the bus and I had just walked less than few metres from the bus stop and I could see the bus was still loading more people when my boots slipped heavily that I landed one knee down and whilst the other was up. Guess where I was? I was on Cromwell Bridge. I picked up myself quickly. I resumed with my journey as if nothing has happened but actually my right knee was in pain that at first I thought it was severely bruised. The pain lasted for ages. I never bothered to look around because I was certain that there were a number of people who had seen me falling down and some them I had already seen them before the incident. They were standing on the bus stop just across the other side of the road.

The bad experiences that I had faced with my loving boots had cajoled me to put it in black and white. I promise you readers that I am not going to wear them again but to preserve them for references. Something you love can be treacherous and give you some heart burns. Despite the all the adventures I had, they are really warm inside. Probably I should wear them at home when I am relaxed and not going anywhere.

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