He fell in love with a pair of white, pointy shoes when he passed by a small shoe store about to go out of business. It was the only shop on the lonely road he walked every day. The door was left ajar, beckoning him in.
The shop was a sea of wrapping paper. He stood still, waiting for someone to come and greet him. It was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of the waves of paper licking at his feet. A sharp sting on his ankle startled him, and he instinctively reached down and slapped. There was nothing on his palm except a thin layer of dust. A thin layer of dust had settled on everything in a short span of minutes.
Behind him, he heard a click. The door had shut itself. With deafening rumbles, a towering mountain of half-open shoe boxes shot rapidly from the ground, guarding the door, and began spewing out a deluge of wrapping paper. A faint beam of light that had escaped from behind the waterfall beckoned. The torrents of paper grew more turbulent. He forced a step toward the direction of the light. The maelstrom was now violent, swirling around him, sniping, biting, sweeping him off of his feet. Panicked, he yanked himself up and spun towards the display window. To his surprise, the display window had disappeared. Instead, the walls of the shop had become entirely transparent, revealing the night sky outside. Stars twinkled.
Dust fell like rain. The torrents of paper slowed, churning sluggishly as layers of dust squeezed out the empty space between crumpled pieces of paper. Wrapping paper hailed down, stoning his bare arms, as he thrashed wildly in the treacherous marsh conspiring to haul him underneath. The twinkle behind the waterfall of paper had disappeared.
There had to be a way out. There had to be. His body was now buried by a mixture of dust and paper almost up to his chest. The storm showed no sign of relenting. Paralyzed by fear, he strained his neck, his eyes desperately darting from one corner of the shop to another, looking for any hint of escape. Amidst the chaos, he caught sight of the pair of white, pointy shoes, perched calmly in a shoebox at the base of the waterfall.
He clawed his way towards the shoes against waves of dust slamming him back. Writhing masses of wrapping paper reached to ensnare him. The shop watched as he scrambled to stay afloat under the pouring dust, his labored breath barely a panicked whisper against the storm.
Trembling, he stood on his tiptoes, his face tilted upwards as if in a prayer, at the base of the waterfall. The shoebox bobbed tantalizingly before him. Summoning a final burst of energy, he wrestled his arm free from the swamp of dust and paper and grabbed at the box with desperate abandon.
His fingers wrapped around the pair of shoes, and the mountain of shoeboxes blocking the door crumbled into the sea of dust and paper. The ensuing vortex pulled him beneath. Instinctively, he gasped for air and screamed out. But an onslaught of dust slammed into his mouth, stealing away precious air, burning his throat as it ripped its way deeper within. The weight of the swirling tempest above clamped his mouth shut, and he swallowed, gagging and choking. His body contorted against the storm that had devoured him, fighting to keep his mouth open and force everything out. Swirling pieces of paper ripped open tiny wounds over his body and stole away any sound in deafening rustles.
It was a blind, deaf, suffocating eternity until a current slammed him against the door. His grasping hand found the doorknob and twisted desperately. The door swung open, and he crashed onto the pavement. Bleeding, he retched sand while gasping for breath. His body wracked with pain, fear, and relief.
Sounds of applause and jeering echoed his coughs in the empty night. On his knees, his frail arms barely able to support his own weight, he lifted his head towards the source of the sound. The twinkling stars descended.
A round orb, much larger than his head, floated a couple inches above him. Milky white sloshed within, lightly rolling the smaller dark orb pressed against the translucent, glass-like surface. In the depths of the smaller orb, a cold light twinkled as it peered.
A voice boomed from afar, “You know, this is the first time you’ve actually made it out! Congrats! But seriously, a shoe shop and wrapping paper? Who came up with this idea anyway? Rigel?”
Another voice piped up, “I thought it was creative! Also, look at how horrified he looks. This is so much more fun than watching him do whatever that was in that stupid snowglobe.”
He twisted up towards that thing right above him, anger, disgust, fear burning in his eyes. A lone star twinkled within the dark void that stared back. Dust—tears of amusement—trickled from the glistening orb and coalesced into a ribbon in the air that wrapped itself around his head and slammed it hard against the ground.
“You’re certainly a fun one. I can’t wait to see how you amuse us next.”
His arms gave out underneath him, and he lay limp on the lonely pavement, underneath the twinkling stars.