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The Feet

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You think it was just a fetish? I wouldn’t call it that. It was merely an innocent desire for the area. They were angelic appendages that whispered their sensual beckons to me every second of everyday. They were smooth felt that needed to be touched and tender as grade A meat that needed to be tasted. I just could not resist laying my hands upon them. I had to act on my feelings, and one day I did.


I saw her every single day of my life. I made sure of that. I changed my walking route to school just so I could let my eyes rest on her beautiful feet. The main bodies of her feet were as sweet as a cake I just wanted to bury my head in. Her toes were the flowered icing, and her toenails the sprinkles.

I had followed her to school since I was thirteen years old, and now that I was seventeen and a senior in high school, I was running out of time to let her know how I truly felt. Telling her the truth was a lot easier said than done for she had no idea what my name was. Neither did anyone else. My name to them was Tubs because of my….un-athletic stature. Need I say more? I even had to write Tubs on my papers because my teachers had no idea what my true name was either. I was the fat outcast. No friends. No life.


I would follow those feet, those gorgeous feet, all the way to school. She wore sandals everyday to boast her latest toenail color. They were always in plain sight for me. It may have been the smooth features of the feet that set me off, or it may have been their perfect toe length. Her ankle met her foot in a perfect curve and this curve continued all the way to the beginning of her toes. The toes were a bonus, slyly slithering off the main torso of her feet. And her toenails were always done perfectly. The feet remained completely clean even on the dirtiest of floors. They were perfection. I had to feel them. I had to smell them. I had to taste them. I had to.


Every morning, these thoughts would fly through my head and tear at my soul until all of a sudden I would find myself at school.


The school had few trees on its perimeter for the titanic building took up the majority of the plot of land. It was a colossal gray box made up of additions built around the original brown schoolhouse. It had but one small courtyard in the center of the building the students called “the park.” This park was so minuscule, that there was only enough room for three small trees and a single moldy wooden bench. Sunlight crept on the ghastly bench only at midday for that was the only time the sun was high enough to push its rays over the three story walls that surrounded the park. It was on this bench where only the most daring couples would go to openly display their affection for the first time to the rest of the school. There was one entrance to the park: an old wooden door that opened from the cafeteria. Coming out from the door, there was a narrow path leading straight to the bench. This used to be a beautiful path with designs in the brick, but time had eroded the brick away and left a dirt path, plagued by weeds. Upon entering the park, there was a rosebush on the left side of the path tucked into the back corner of the courtyard. It was overgrown and unsightly but produced the most dazzling red roses in the springtime. Behind this bush was a slight degrade that went into the school. This was my hiding spot.

That particular day was cold, cloudy and overcast; an ugly day. There was a slight mist on the air that only an early November day could bring. The sun’s first morning light had just started creeping in from behind the clouds as I got to school, casting a gray dull light on the east wall of my school.

I snapped out of my usual trance as I followed her into the doors. There he was. The bane of my existence. The one person whom I loathed more than any other in the entire universe. Her boyfriend. His pants were so tight that they looked as if they were painted onto his legs. His greasy hair was an old mop that dangled at his shoulders. And his eyes were persistently glazed and watery from his last toke. He did not deserve her.

I had never hated him before he showed interest in her, but after they started dating my passionate detestation of his life boiled inside me like the slow, steady boil of a witch’s cauldron. My jealousy was overwhelming that day. There he was right next to the feet, taking them for granted once again. He didn’t deserve to spend so much time around a thing of such beauty. He never even noticed them. I on the other hand, would treat them how they should be treated. I would massage them with lotion and finally give her the pedicure I’ve been practicing so much for.

He took her by the hand and led her to the park. They went there everyday to affect their love upon each other and I would follow, sneaking in the door right after them and assuming my usual position behind the rose bush. That day was no different…at first. I got nestled in my little semi-hole and I watched with hatred. He touched all of the wrong parts of her body. His hand travelled from her hands to her hair to her face to her legs but never touched the most integral ingredient to the recipe of her beauty.

This bothered me everyday, but today it ground my gears even more. Why did he pay no attention to her feet? Why didn’t he treat her feet as they should be treated? Did he not notice them? He was only around them every single day of his life. What was his problem???

Maybe it was the thick, gloomy air that set me off that day, or maybe the cauldron of my mind had finally reached its boiling temperature, but I finally acted on my emotions.

I watched them thoroughly. I watched them and watched them like an unseen sniper, waiting for the opportune moment to take the life of the man at the other end of the scope. I sat there idle and prepared to jump, ready and willing to make my move, but still I waited. I watched them go through their usual display, pushing the boundaries of what is tolerable at school. I watched with a jealous mind and an odious heart. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t bear watching his lips touch hers back instead of the most beautiful part of her body. Her feet lay there untouched and dormant. I needed to comfort them. They needed me.

They started to finish. I had made up my mind. I picked up a sharp piece of brick that hung off the bottom of the building. I steadied myself. The element of surprise would be the key to my success. They stood up and he took her hand----touch her feet!---and they moved toward the door. She stopped to fix her hair and he turned around to wait. Now was the time! I lunged forward like a savage, brick tight in my hand, jumping with such speed that he had no time to turn around before I plunged the sharp edge of the brick deep into his back. It was a blunt blow but he made no cry. He fell straight to the ground, unconscious from the surprise----hahaha, my sweet surprise.

She, on the other hand, screamed so loudly that I fell to the ground in fright. Alas! I had not taken into account what her reaction would be! She ran to his limp body to make sure he was okay but he was long gone. She screamed and screamed and screamed and wouldn’t stop. I sat on the ground listening to that dreadful scream. It came in waves of two. The first one was a shrill sound in a high pitch that was usually reserved for canines. The second one was a cow-like moan that tore at my ears.

She wouldn’t stop. Somebody must have heard her by now. I started to panic. She needed to shut up! Somebody would hear! I just couldn’t take it anymore. What could I do?? Shriek and moan, shriek and moan, shriek and moan. My heart was sinking. The tears streaming down my face mixed with the sweat that poured off my forehead. She needed to be silent. She needed to be put down.

Acting on a whim I ran back to the boy’s body and withdrew the brick. She took no notice for she was in a delirious state of screaming. I pulled her up and told her to be silent but she pushed me away and screamed even louder but this time the moans materialized into words, “MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!”

I was done. I threw her down to the ground and grabbed her feet and kissed them. I then proceeded to silence the scream by driving the bloody piece of brick deep into the right side of her neck. There was one last desperate cry and then stillness. Silence had never hit me so hard.

I listened for anyone coming but all I could hear were the echoes of the dead scream. I looked down at my victims. I took no pity on the boy and I threw him behind the rosebush, but I stared at her, at the feet, for a long time. Her skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, but her feet were as beautiful as ever. They were utter perfection and they were finally all mine. I rubbed them and kissed them and massaged them; everything I had been waiting for. I was in heaven.

I realized that I couldn’t stay there forever. I needed to keep her feet but I could care less about the rest of her useless body. I removed the brick from her neck and used the sharp edge to cut her feet off from the ankle. It was very time-consuming work with such a blunt object but at last I had the objects of my desire. I tossed her body on top of her boyfriend’s and placed the feet in my backpack. I made for the door.

I had completely forgotten about classes and I didn’t care anymore. I had to get home and enjoy her feet. I had some oils and lotions that I was ready to use. I sprinted to the front door of the school and hopped on a random bike. I pedaled as fast as I could, breaking out of my school. I made it through the parking lot and pulled onto the street. I was so preoccupied with my success that I did not see the moving truck speeding down the street. I pulled right in front of it and it hit me, sending me soaring into the air. The blow had separated me from my backpack. I landed in a shallow ditch and my bag landed in an open sewer. My beautiful prize was washed away in the running water of the sewer as I lay there. It was never found by anyone. To this day, the feet still lay in the same sewer.

An ambulance arrived after the driver of the semi realized what he had done. I was loaded into the back and raced to the hospital. Some doctors checked for my vital signs but found none. A few minutes later, the cart I was on was labeled “D.O.A.” Dead on Arrival.





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