Nina's Shoes

There is a girl who lives in my room. Her name is Nina, and she sits across from my bed. Sometimes, when I’m sad, she tells me stories.
Nina doesn’t really belong anywhere.
Not to a nice home; like me.
Not to a family.
Not even to herself.
The orphaned life distanced her.

She had a sister.
Nina adored her sister; more than anyone. Her name was Melody; and Nina said she was like a beautiful song. I loved it when she talked about Melody because her face would light up and for a moment she was alive again. It wouldn’t take long for the light in Nina’s eyes to fade. Then she’d go silent; causing a cold chill to float over us; leaving me sick to the stomach. See, when she was four years old her sister died. When she told me I cried because her story was so detailed and painful that it felt like I had been there. In Nina’s shoes.

Once she said, if she could choose a pair of shoes to be, she’d be ballet slippers. When I asked her why, she said it was because they’re dainty and graceful and beautiful; not like her. I think Nina is more like a pair of old sneakers. The kind you wear again and again; even though they’re falling to pieces. The kind you grow to love. I think I could love Nina if she let me. But Nina doesn’t want anybody to love her because she doesn’t like herself much. Sometimes I wonder if she even likes me. She likes to tell me what’s wrong with me, that’s for sure. I think she’s jealous.

See, Nina and I are like contrast. If I were white, Nina would be black. If I were happy, Nina would be sad. If I were rich, Nina would be poor. That’s just the way it is; and Nina can’t stand it. I feel bad that I can’t swap lives with her sometimes. I’d like to make her happy; even for a day. I rarely ever see her smile and that hurts me. She’s like my sister.

Some nights I heed her crying, while curled up in my bed. I can hear her over the traffic buzz and the wind that whispers lullabies. I think she misses her sister; but I daren’t ask. She might think I’m nosy. I want Nina to like me; really I do. Usually, I wait for her to start the conversations. I’m a little scared I might say the wrong thing. Nina is my best friend.

When we talk about school her crystal eyes go hazy. I call that Nina’s smoke screen; because I know she lies when her eyes cloud over that way. It makes me upset when she talks about her brilliant teachers and good grades and lovely friends because I know that’s the way she wants it to be; not the way it is. Nina is a great story teller.

One day, my life will be as perfect as the one Nina painted for herself. One day I’ll take one last look at my best friend, step out of my room, through the holey flyscreen door, into the streets. I’ll breathe in the fresh autumn air, and stare at the fiery litter of foliage blanketing the trees. I’ll spread my wings like the planes Nina and I pretended to fly. I’ll shout about dreams and adventures and I’ll promise to the wind that the sadness is gone. I’ll run until I reach Lady Claire’s corner.
And I’ll stop.
I’ll be done with wondering why Claire Doherty stands forever on that corner, in her best pearls; waiting for something that never seems to come. I’ll know why she never gives up hope. One day I’ll ask her. I’ll walk right up to her. Hold out my hand and say.
“Hello, I’m Nina”.

Nina's Shoes


Tumut, Australia

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 10

Artist's Description

This story is about belonging
to your past, present and future
and learning to accept the way
life is. And loving to our best ability,
because that’s the only true
way to be happy.

Please read this guys, it was
a creative piece my teacher
asked me to write for english
and I’d really appreciate some
feedback before I submit it for
my teacher =)

Does it make sense?


Artwork Comments

  • Tony Ryan
  • visualmetaphor
  • Tony Ryan
  • visualmetaphor
  • PJ Ryan
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  • ytsumner
  • visualmetaphor
  • ytsumner
  • visualmetaphor
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