Even my doctor could not conceal his horror as he examined my tongue cautiously, a grimace marring his features. Recoiling slightly at my unwashed stench he held me at arms length and looked carefully at my eyes. It was only then that he decided that putting his foot down on the situation as of late had most certainly not been working. If anything it had only been readily worsening my condition rather than achieving anything. This morning, as with every morning, I was subjected to my daily treatment leaving me worse for wear. Well, almost daily. Occasionally, he was feeling too lazy to care for his unwilling patient. Some doctor he was.

Did he not understand how I loathed him? Could he not sympathize with me in this pitiful state? Was it impossible to so much as comprehend my situation? True, I should be more grateful to him. The aforementioned man had indeed rescued me from my dark and cramped prison. My ever silent twin was also evacuated from the cell we had once shared. It was in fact amazing that we had both managed to fit. Despite my stoic sibling's attitude we were always together. Two of a kind we were, like peas in a pod, inseparable even though the rest of our family had been ripped away from us. It is difficult to summon compassion for them though, as we were treated with a cold indifference. The younger and showier relatives had been adopted quickly, snapped up almost instantly. Only a particular doctor was willing to pay for our freedom. We were old and dull by comparison, but he still paid.

Before becoming in this sorry state, my twin and I had toured the globe. We had been to visit China, our birthplace, and other significant areas. There the doctor had been offered luxuries, us, globs of spit. Raw meat hung in great slabs and shopkeepers verbally advertised and haggled over goods. Sloshing through a marketplace flooded by filthy drain water had almost completely submerged us. Ah, the woes of a Typhoon Eight. There was another side to the city though. A side with polished and slippery floors distorting our reflection, a side with and sparkling Christmas lights blinking in Mid-September and freezing air conditioning. A side with blinking arcade lights and brightly coloured toys. There we had been offered strange delicacies such as ants and scorpions. Not that I minded, for my tongue cannot taste.

In Paris we visited numerous museums, stopping at displays as we skittered along. I myself had nearly been separated from the group when I was unfortunately trampled by an overenthusiastic tourist. Our esteemed rescuer never once stopped for rest, but I couldn't have complained had I even wanted to. My mouth cannot speak.

Our adventures ended after a trip to Spain. It had been dubbed the city of dancing that the doctor and his friends adored so much. It was not uncommon to see civilians dancing in the streets to the strumming of a guitar and beat of the tapping foot. How we struggled to keep with the flurry of feet and maintain such a pace in the heat of the day! Let's say the doctor was about as swift a foot as he was treating patients such as me. It is said we were in one of the most beautiful and exotic cities in the world, but I'll never know. My eyes cannot see.

How we managed to maintain this comparatively strenuous lifestyle is beyond me. My twin and I had never done so much as lift a finger before adoption. Or afterwards come to mention it. We had just stayed still, occasionally brought out and displayed like animals at the zoo, except in a glass cage. Ugly pedestrians pressed their faces against the glass, smearing their noses as they tried to ogle at us. The new lifestyle after the doctor came into our lives was a small shock, and it took a while to adjust to his pace and to fit properly into his life. All the movement proved a challenge, but luckily being from a well-heeled group does have some advantages.

Everything must come to an end, I acknowledged as we returned to the doctor's home. His dog was most unwelcoming, attacking at any opportunity. It took all the doctors efforts to release us from its clutches. Mostly we were left at home alone. The man who had freed us was revealed to be no different than our former jailer. Once again my twin and I were confined to a dark space with only cockroaches to entertain us. They scuttled all over my body making the both of us grimier with each passing day.

Today however, was different from usual. Early morning, -or was it evening perhaps? - A small creaking indicated our prison door being opened, and a small glimmer of light shone through the opening. We made no attempt to escape, our earless selves not even noticing the sound, our sightless eyes not seeing the light. I was gingerly picked up with gloved hands, swathed in plastic and driven to the hospital. I must have been in critical condition, needing to be dealt with before others contracted what I had.

The doctor's car shuddered to a stop. Upon arrival I was thrown into a container and awaited my fate. For how long I waited I don't know, but I was ruthlessly dumped into another vehicle soon afterwards. Others greeted me, for despite our differences we all shared the same fate, although it was quite uncomfortable to tell the truth. A sharp metal edge prodded my side, and the plastic walls around me seemed to close in. The steady shaking of the truck came to a stop as we were dropped off at our new home. Now here I lie in a junkyard for an indeterminate amount of time. My body may decompose…

…but my sole can never die.


A/N--I hope you all realized it was a shoe I was referring to. Yes, my oh-so inspiring shoe.