Updated: Sep 19
There is an off kilter symmetry in the way religion clashes with cowboy boots. One demon set out to change that. She wore her fire engine red boots as she attended every Sunday sermon. The preacher noticed her week after week and prayed for the immortal soul she did not possess. The prayers slid off her skin and clung to her boots like a persistent scrap of toilet paper. Soon they were the holiest boots on Earth. A hundred years passed and they sat well loved on the shelf of an antiques store. Some heads turn and look at them but they sat unworn for years. Finally a young girl came in with her precious babysitting money. She was so excited she wore them out of the store. She practically skipped down the street. A whim overtook her and she clicked her heels “There’s no place like home.” She should’ve been more specific as she stared in shock at the demon’s living room in hell.
The prompts for this short story:
some heads turn
off kilter symmetry
Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady