Shoes to be Buried In
Short one-shot to get me back into writing.
Ray thinks about his feet. Future fic.
Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with either the show or the character. All for fun.
I'm not really into art. Art with a capital A that is. I love music and film but I've never been one for galleries. Galleries are too often filled with pretentious people who don't know what they're what it is they're looking at and who don't understand how it makes them feel. This afternoon; despite my doubts; I wandered around a photography exhibition because the title captured my interest. "Shoes to be buried in", dozens of photographs of footwear telling a personal story.
These days my feet are a bigger part of my life. Before my accident I never really gave them much thought. I wore socks around the apartment and pretty much lived in my chucks when the weather was good. After the accident it terrified me to think that I might never need shoes again. One of the first things I did after my prosthetics were fitted was to go shoe shopping. I couldn't walk on my prosthetics at that point but I was damn well gonna find a way to cover them up. I bought the first pair of chucks I laid eyes on because I was so desperate to get out of there and away from all the people who I thought were staring at me. I tried to throw those shoes away when I was walking again but my Mom rescued them from the trash. I think she kept them.
Anyway, if I had to choose a pair of shoes to be buried in, I'd go with the ones that are on my feet at the moment. I'm wearing a scruffy, plain pair of black Dr Marten boots. The Doc's Docs as my friends call them. They've walked a long way and they hold a lot of memories. I've had them since 2010. My wife bought them for me at the Dr Marten shop in London whilst we were on our honeymoon. I joked with the sales girl that I'd never get blisters from wearing them in. These boots are strong, proud, classic. They fit me like a glove and have grown with me, no matter what's happened with my body. Just like my wife. English too if you care to take the analogy further. These boots could tell my life story as well as I can.
A/N: I really don't like writing in the first person but I've not yet figured out how to make this plotline into a longer, third person story. If anyone has any ideas or would like to collaborate then let me know.