On The Way to Hell

by Sparks In Shadow

Photo by Jack Parott via

 

The slender knife of a heel dug into a crevice between paving stones, taking her down. Both knees, both palms scraped. Champagne splattered. Shards of glass missed her eyes, ricocheting into the neckline of her dress. He laughed when her bones hit.

Instinct guided her aching hand to the shoe that had slipped off. To her, the tall heel seemed better for pointing out cracks on ceilings, but they’d been his favorite.

Turns out a stiletto heel pierces flesh not so cleanly as its namesake, but well enough with his laughter spurring her.

She wonders how he likes them now.

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