Every day, an endless procession of feet trudging past her basement window.
Dirty feet in flip-flops, tortured feet in stilettos, bouncing Nike-clad feet. With time the scene changes to soft suede slouch boots, and then to wellington boots – shiny ones, floral ones, staid green town-and-country wellingtons.
Eventually there are no feet at all, the windows whited-out for weeks before white turns to grey and crunching or sloshing noises replace the silence.
In this way she marks the passage of time.
There are other ways, but this she has chosen.
Or was it chosen for her? She can’t remember now.
Just back from an early morning walk on the beach. Our little town is coming back to life, the beach-huts have re-appeared, the lifeguard station is back, and deck-chairs are stacked ready. Let’s hope the virus isn’t biding its time. Thanks to Rochelle for leading the Friday Fictioneers in their weekly stroll.
castelsarrasin 
What a lovely glimpse into an odd mind
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Thanks, Neil.
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Strange, sad, and immensely powerful.
‘Or was it chosen for her?’ is devastating.
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Thanks for reading CE.
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Interesting how some things mark time.
Glad normality is creeping back. Same here. Went to a coffee shop yesterday after a 3-month isolation.
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I went to have some blood tests done yesterday. I can’t describe the feeling of having a stranger in such close proximity. This will take some getting used to.
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It’s really an eye opening how quickly we adapt to life. Being around strangers is kind of… well… strange…
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Good to know life is getting back to normal in certain places.
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Thanks for reading.
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This is heartbreaking!
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Thanks for reading.
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Love it. I think we were in the same mindset with this one!
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Yes, I think we were. Thanks for visiting.
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Hi Sandra,
I like the way you placed yourself in her shoes by showing us others footwear. i especially liked winter.
Are you a lifeguard? For some reason I pictured you seated high in a tall white chair beneath a sun shade, eagle eyes watching the surf for struggling swimmers. Don’t forget your sunscreen.
Cheers,
Doug
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Lifeguard??? Moi??? Nothing could be further from the truth. Rochelle’s the water babe, I’m strictly on the water, not in it. Thanks for reading and sorry your stats were disrupted by visitors from these shores.
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Dear Sandra,
I could picture the different shoes and feel a sense of isolation. Well shod story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks Rochelle. I wasn’t sure whether you’d call them wellingtons over there?
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How some people mark time! Interesting story.
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Thanks Anita.
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Such a beautifully written, poignant story, Sandra.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks Susan. 🙂
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Great expression of her particular view of the world, and left wondering how she came to be stuck with it. If you haven’t seen the Korean film Parasite which won the Best Picture Oscar last year, I recommend it. It features a family who use their basement window in the same way.
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No I’ve not seen that one. I’ll keep an eye out for it. Thanks for reading.
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Loved her personality and the way you went in her mind and told from her perspective.
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Many thanks.
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Interestingly told
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Thanks Sue.
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Brilliant take, Sandra. That last line brings us up short!
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Thanks for reading Dale.
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Very good take on the prompt, with a very powerful last line.
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Many thanks, Gabriella.
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Very poignant!
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Thanks, Neel.
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Lovely vignette
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Many thanks.
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You always have something thought-provoking, Sandra, and each piece is always so well-crafted. In this case, aren’t we all a bit like this these days, with fewer people out and about (at least for a time.) Glad things are opening up, but at least here it’s been accompanied by a surge in virus cases.
janet
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I’m sorry to hear that Janet. I’ve been expecting an upsurge here, but as yet it’s not materialised. Stay safe, and hope you’re settling in fine.
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We’ve settled in pretty well and we’re staying as safe as possible. Still not going out much except for groceries or cycling (Bill) or walking (me.)
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I’m sure shut-ins have time-markers just like this. Well-done.
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Yes, I feel as though I’ve missed spring altogether, even though I’ve been out and about in the garden. The seasons are to be enjoyed in the comany of others, I’ve realised.
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That last line is devastating, moving her from the status of eccentric to someone who is being seriously abused and has been for years or even decades. Brilliant!
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Many thanks Penny. I hope you’re well and staying safe.
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Beautifully written. I can see exactly how it would happen. Becoming a recluse without meaning to? It can happen!
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Yes, I can see that all too well right now.
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I really liked this. Wonderfully descriptive and powerful.
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Many thanks!
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Sandra, this is a splendid bit of writing that really follows the picture prompt challenge.
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Thanks so much, Oneta.
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How very real, and very sad! I’ve lived in a basement for a time, not quite facing a road, but a driveway of the house of the family that rented me the space. It was an odd thing to see only feet, wheels, and the odd eye-to-eye with a stray cat.
I don’t miss it. And yet, it was a roof over my head at the time.
This was very well done, Sandra!
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Thanks for reading. I can’t imagine living with a window only at foot level. I think I might go crazy.
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Yeah, it was not fun. It was necessary at the time, and I’m happy to have had the option for a safe roof over my head, but I would not recommend it as a way of life … Now it’s just another story (sorry) in the building of my life … 😉
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brilliantly original take, a basement of course!
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Many thanks!
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Different seasons, different footwear. A touching final line.
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Thanks, Keith.
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This imprisonment or hermitage in a basement (it is, if you’ll pardon my pun) an abasement of human life) is very poignant. The waste of life, the struggle for sanity. It begs for a backstory.
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Many thanks.
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Gods! I hope isolation doesn’t last that long.
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So do I.
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Quite sad. A recluse or locked away, I wonder?
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Who can tell, if she can’t?
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like they say, this too shall pass.
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Let’s hope so.
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Great imagery. I could see myself there. Makes me wonder what she was trying to remember. Good sense of mystery. Great, Sandra! 🙂
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Thanks Kent!
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You are most welcome.
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It is such a strange world that you describe her living in. Yet it remained me of railway station waiting rooms. [pre coronavirus]
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I see what you mean. Thanks for reading.
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As long as those flip flops aren’t embracing socked feet, it’s not such a bad existence. Your story was far too serious for that joke. I get the feeling, her stay in that basement is not self-imposed. The way you suggest that and that she’s accepted her circumstance is very well done.
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🙂 Thanks for reading.
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An interesting way to measure the passage of time. There is an underlying sadness here as she watches time march by. Superb story!
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Many thanks for reading Brenda.
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Long term isolation is torture, and anything that keeps you sane should be applauded.
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Oh, how I remember wearing those stilettos … OUCH !!!
This could be so many here in Florida. Children who’ve created a basement life for their aging parents. SAD … beautifully conveyed. Have a peaceful weekend.
Be safe … Be Healthy … Be Happy
Isadora 😎
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Emotionally powerful, I could imagine the basement’s limited view, humanity reduced to the shoes they were wearing. You capture the poignant mood so well.
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I’ve been through these shoe milestones. Now it’s slippers or crocs.
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