A/N: A short, one-shot about India Stoker's saddle shoes. I've been obsessing nonstop about this movie that last night, I was filled with a resolve to fill FF with a lot of Stoker-inspired one-shots. Hahaha..
I wanted to buy the same saddle shoes that India wore in the movie.
oOoOoOoOo
They came every year, those sturdy saddle shoes in white and blue color. Always in a white box, covered with tissue paper and tied with a thick, yellow silky ribbon.
And without fail, she would wear them with her birthday dress.
Her mother, Evelyn, had stopped insisting on the style of birthday dress she wanted her to wear. Every time she comes down the stairs and heading to the parlour, her mother's green eyes would study her critically from head to foot, her gaze lingering longer on the shoes. She would always save her opinion for it last.
"Those shoes clash with your green blouse, India. I wish you would wear the black mary janes I bought for you last week."
Or.
"How about wearing the navy inspired stripe dress I bought for you last month?"
She would just frown a bit and tell her mother that since it's her birthday, she will chose whatever she wants to wear.
And with that, her mother would turn her head away and never speak to her for several days afterwards.
India had always loved her saddle shoes. Everything she wears or use was bought by her beloved father. And in order to show her appreciation, she would always wear them.
On her 16th birthday, she received three pairs of shoes.
The blue and white saddle shoes; a low-heeled black, leather mary janes; and a dainty square toed aqua pumps.
She chucked the black mary janes at the back of her closet. Her mother hasn't given up in making her wear them.
That left the saddle shoes and the square-toed pumps.
"Daddy, why did you buy me two pairs of shoes this year?" she blurted out her innocent question during the quiet dinner they were having.
The question must have taken her father off-guard. She noticed that he stiffened, gripped the knife and fork he was holding, before smiling fondly at her.
"I figured a girl should not limit herself to one pair of saddle shoes to wear everyday. You're not a little girl anymore. And you should try finding your own identity."
"You finally realized that she needs to dress more appealingly," her mother interjected with an approving smile. "India, when we visit your great-aunt Chloe tomorrow, I want you to wear the aqua pumps and the black and white dress."
She did not immediately reply. Maybe just this once she would humour her mother. Finally, she answered. "Yes, mother. Why not?"
But as she returns her attention back to the chocolate dessert she is eating, she could not remove the niggling suspicion that her father is hiding something from her.
His smile hadn't quite reached his eyes when he answered her question.
It was only when she climbed into her own bed after taking a long steaming shower did she realized that the shoes was never bought by him in the first place.
Now that she thinks about it, her father always favour his black, custom-made Italian leather shoes. He never wears the same type of shoes that she favours.
Who then, buys her saddle shoes?
India continued to ponder about her mystery gift-giver. By the time she closed her eyes, early morning rain was pouring outside the slightly open window of her room. She went to sleep, unknowingly inhaling the smell of wet oak moss and sandalwood that gently flooded her room.
oOoOoOoOo
A/N: Wrote this for 20 minutes. If you have read my one-shot Duet, I described Uncle Charlie's perfume in detail there.
I've got no excuse, except my plea for you guys to watch the movie. I hope other writers out there would attempt to write something in this category.
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