Home sweet home Latest site info Poetic stuff Serious stuff Funny stuff Topical stuff Alternative stuff Shakespearian stuff Musical stuff
  click here for a "printer friendly" version

The Devil's Shoes by Samantha Memi.



More than anything I wanted a pair of Tania Spinneli shoes. I was standing in the street looking at them in a shop window. I’ll do anything for you, I said in a murmur only the shoes could hear. The Devil whispered in my ear, Give me your soul and the shoes are yours. I presumed it was the Devil, who else would want my soul? I mean as a soul it’s not too bad, but it’s 35 years old, and I have to admit it’s not what you might call ‘the best’. I suppose if you measured souls, good being 1 and 10 being bad, mine would be 9½, maybe 9¼ if you made allowances for some petty stealing. I turned my head expecting to see the Devil, red face, burning eyes, horns. I was surprised to see the Archbishop of Canterbury.

‘Why do you want my soul?’ I asked.

‘If only you knew the problems we have getting souls,’ he explained. ‘At one time all it needed was a bit of preaching and we had souls by the dozen. Now you can’t get them for love or money.’

‘But I won’t feel me if I don’t have a soul.’

‘Course you will, my sweetheart. Don’t you worry about your soul. We’ll look after it.’

I wasn’t sure about him calling me sweetheart, which I thought was a bit too friendly, but for Tania Spinelli shoes I would put up with far worse.

‘I’m not worried about my soul. I’m worried about me. Who will I talk to when I’m alone if I don’t have a soul?’

‘Look.’ He was getting a bit hard sell. He pulled out a scroll and unscrolled it. It had a seal with the words, Contract for Heaven. ‘What it is is this, we take your soul now, and as long as you’re good for the rest of your life you’ll get your soul back when you die.’

I thought for a second. ‘Define ‘good’.’

‘Well, good… Don’t you know what good is?’

‘Yeah, but what’s good to me might be dreadful evil to you. I mean, Can I shag men?’

‘Only if you’re married to them.’

‘Married! Shit. I don’t wanna get married. I’m 35. I don’t wanna get tied down. Can’t we like delay the contract for say 10 years so I get the shoes and then I get married in 10 years time.’


I looked at the shoes and thought for a second. They needed me. I was certain of that. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’ I knew the shoes would realise my sacrifice and be grateful.

‘You’ll sign?’

‘Let’s get this straight. I can’t steal, or lie, or…’

‘You can’t kill…’

‘Don’t wanna kill.’

‘You can’t steal, slander, covet your neighbour’s ass…’

‘Oh, come on, he’s got a gorgeous ass. It’s only looking.’

‘It means you shouldn’t envy anyone.’

I thought of Kate Moss. How I envied her legs. The things you do for a pair of shoes.

‘Gimme the pen.’ I signed.

He gave me the money for the shoes. I thought I’d feel my soul seeping out of me but I didn’t feel anything.

I went into the shop. A woman was talking to an assistant. ‘I’d like to see the Tania Spinneli gold lattice shoes you have in the window.’

No, this was a joke.

‘Certainly.’ He took the shoes from the window.

My heart raced.

‘These are the last of a limited edition hand-made and signed.’

NO! My brain screamed.

‘I’ll take them,’ she said.

Another assistant came over.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked with a plastic smile.

And then I remembered; the Devil has many disguises.



Rate this story.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.


© Winamop 2012