...foot no longer hers.
Rocking a final time the shoe settled upright, inches from her face. She lifted her throbbing head with searing difficulty. Falling from her sticky cheek, gravel shards tick-ticked onto the cool pavement. Shaking her head, blinking to clear her vision, Christy stared at her ankle's fairy tattoo.
The juxtaposition what should be and what was battled in her brain. Painfully sucking in a partial lungful of air, Christy sharpened the focus of her worm's eye view. Exhaling, she tasted a sour ghost breath of coconut, pineapple, and rum.
Wailing sirens filled her ears, her brain, her soul. Her peripheral vision closed to a pinpoint. Summoning the core of her very being, she scraped-lifted-extended a shredded hand toward her companionless shoe. The black hole of Christy's pavement world began sucking her deep into its maw. A silent tear slid earthward as she whispered, "Tinkerbell--"
Different point of view from author Ric Hardson:
It took Christy a full minute to realize that the thing moving in her shoe was a...
...banana slug. She didn't notice it at first. Even though the sun was already rising, it was purply dark beneath the trees. Thank goodness she did notice it. The thought of her bare foot sharing shoe space with a slimy slug made her skin crawl.
Christy used a twig to ease the spotted creature onto the leafy ground next to her sleeping bag. Perplexed with its change of venue, the slug's stalks wavered back and forth seeking information. Christy didn't know whether it was the slant of sunshine or the chill of a miniscule breeze, but something engaged the slug's internal GPS system. Its upper body rose a half inch before angling away.
At the speed of spilled molasses, the banana slug traveled toward deeper shadows. The thought of his body sharing such close quarters with a naked foot made his skin crawl.
source:
http://www.scribesvalley.com/uwriteitweek272.html
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