Tom jumped and all that remained were the boots.

Our pa made us kids wear boots many sizes too small all the time. Even in the scorching sun we'd have them on, blistering our bare feet, twisting toes out of shape, uncut nails growing under. No-one was ever allowed to remove them or there would be trouble.

Whenever I recall that image of boots on the shore I'm so envious. Tom is free. Somewhere. Maybe he swam to the other side and is now having a fantastic life. Or maybe he's dead. He would be in heaven if that was true. He was such a good boy.

Ma and the other kids try and forget the image of the boots by the shore but I always want to remember, they are my hope of a better place.

Pa was real upset when Tom disappeared. He had made those boots by hand and now they weren't being worn. He took it out on us kids. Pa is weird.

Bye Tom. Hope you are free


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Anglea (joined over 10 years ago)

Six minute story is brilliant as a daily mental excercise to write on a variety of topics. It involves a lot of trial and error before I finish in the given time.

I am often surprised which of my stories receive the most views, often those I planned to delete.

COPYRIGHT - please contact me in advance via a recent story page if you wish to use my stories in anyway.

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