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I hear them.
Behind me, then beside me.
I can’t figure out whose they are,
But all I hear are footsteps.
Most people would probably be freaked out by something like that,
But not me,
I figure someone must be watching out for me.
And there is something very comforting in that.
By nikki on 10.02.2014
Footsteps behind me. I run. Running. Always running. Whose. Does it matter? I am unsafe. Always such. Whoever is chasing never ends. Never tires. Why don’t they ever get tired. I know I am.
By Tobias URL on 10.02.2014
Heavy footsteps were heard stomping on the floor above us.
“I know you’re down there,” boomed a harsh voice. I looked over at Kat who was shaking like a leaf thrown about in the wind.
“Shh,” I say. “Don’t make a sound.”
By Emily URL on 10.02.2014
And I followed their footsteps in the dance for rain that never came, not unless you counted the tears. And you will know them by the trail. Shells and teeth and coins.
By Intuition URL on 10.02.2014
I didn’t hear footsteps. Everyone thinks they hear footsteps in the dark of the night, but I know I didn’t. No, I hear a shotgun click.
By Chadd Nolen on 10.02.2014
Footsteps in the corridor, clipping on stone like a fast-paced pony. Heels.
I only have seconds now, and I’m nowhere near to finishing the task.
She wasn’t meant to come back this soon, and now I’m too late. I clamp the backup bug to the underside of a desk drawer, feeling certain that she can’t find both (or at least not fast enough to do any serious damage to the Campaign), step away, and busy myself looking guilty as she opens the door.
At least that’s not too hard.
And as I raise my hands and try to force my heart back out of my mouth (they treat you worse if you actually look guilty as opposed to just being it), there’s a part of my brain that’s just slightly triumphant. She’ll never find it.
We’re gonna win.
By Sky URL on 10.02.2014
The pathway was far off the beaten track. Nobody should be out here, not even me. The trees around me stilled with the lack of life. Until i heard the footsteps. They echoed from the brook to my right. I’m no longer alone.
By Emily Knight on 10.02.2014
Footsteps are something of a mystery to us. They are left by everyone and can become everything. They are an anomaly and yet an identity.
By Emily Jane Knight URL on 10.02.2014
I hear little footsteps down the hall, here come some big footsteps through the door.
By Hope Strubs on 10.02.2014
There’s a small tear in the “footsteps in the sand” poem poster on my door — thanks, Ria — and I’m feeling a little sweaty right now. The blood’s not helping either and even though I just made a huge descision, I’m still restless.
By glenscocos URL on 10.02.2014
You could see two of them walking down the hill towards the ocean, one was short with long dark hair and the other was taller with white hair to his side. Only thing you could see was thier footsteps in the sand…
By Akeyx URL on 10.02.2014
The Lords footsteps are beside mine.
By tyler on 10.02.2014
I don’t know what it means. Foot? and Steps? Can you help me understand? I think I know now…
By Ana URL on 10.02.2014
the night’s silence tunneled the light sound of footstep strait to my ear
By jonathan on 10.02.2014
i hear footsteps around the corner the footsteps came nearer and nearer but what to do suddenly the footsteps became quicker and quicker
By sherzand on 10.02.2014
the night’s silence tunneled the light sound of footstep strait to my ear. I could hear nothing but the crunching leaves in the backyard. i didn’t know who or what it was, so i causiously when to inspect.
I’m not sure what to call us.
We’re in between strangers and friends.
You always smile at me when we pass;
We always make eye-contact from across a room –
What am I supposed to think of that?
Am I just supposed to wait until
We either come together –
Or fall apart?
By Abbey URL on 10.02.2014
I will never hear your footsteps. I will never hear your heartbeat, I will never know what colour your eyes were. I will never know if you were going to be a sister or a brother. I will never know if you would have looked like the twins, if you were more twins, if you would have gotten along with us, how we would have fit you into our lives. I will never know if it would have been as hard as I imagined. When someone else takes your place as my third child, I will silently think they are my fourth. I will never get you back. I will never let you go. You never lived anywhere but inside of me and that is somewhat magical. But I will never hear your footsteps and that will never stop hurting.
<3 For my forever unborn.
By Kit on 10.02.2014
He held my hands that were so much smaller than his own in a firm, but careful grip above my head. I teetered, and almost fell, panic over taking me, but he caught me. He cheered me on as I kept going, before I finally reached the wall. “Good job, Buddy!” Daddy said and my giggle pierced the air of the perfectly serene afternoon in the best possible way.
By Natasha on 10.02.2014
I heard the footsteps get closer and closer.
My shoes learned to walk.
I watched as they danced in front of me.
Much better than I.
I wish I had the same amount of soul they do.
Dance for me, shoes, dance.
By Troy Whitaker on 10.02.2014
The sound of her baby boy’s first footsteps didn’t bring her to tears…at least, not immediately. She felt herself losing control of her emotions, but instead of sobbing over the momentous occassion she remained frozen. He was growing up, and before she knew it eighteen or so years would’ve passed by and he’d be leaving her. Oh, she loved him.
By Nova Lee Adamson URL on 10.02.2014
Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
I wake up blearily to the sound of footsteps. “Huh? Whats going on?” I mumble enegebly.
The footsteps go on for a little while longer, I freeze, a chill spreading across my body, realizing that I have an intruder in my house.
I cautiously tip-toe to my door, peeking ot the crack in my bedroom door. The intruder was a rich looking man, in a trench coat. A gun, and a photo of me, lay in his hands and he was smiling, mumbling something about how this would be too easy.
By amaryllis URL on 10.02.2014
Teetering small padded remember when mine were soft flesh now gnarled hardened yellow knotted suggests how far I’ve travelled down rough roads and on burnt embers. What did you take from the rabbits den? How many rubies? Where are your rubies ? What are you even doing here child, without any rubies? Foolish the overcompliant, your good behavior has bought you ignorance. Chew off your calloused skin, start over. Re-toddle. Re-taught All.
By Rune on 10.02.2014
we attain success with every footsteps of failure.
By oxl URL on 10.02.2014
I heard the footsteps across the ceiling in my old farmhouse. I hate when I heard them up there and I’m home all by myself. I don’t have a problem with spirits, but they scare me when I’m alone not expecting it. They might even be the footsteps of my late great-grandfather who built this very house. He spent a lot of time here and showed me all around his property every chance he would get. He showed great pride in this house, it might just be him letting me know he is still here with me.
By Reegan on 10.02.2014
There he is, walking down a path in the forest. He probably shouldn’t be out this late, he knows that, but the sound of light footsteps padding behind him startles him out of his reverie. He whips his head around, but nobody is there.This is starting to feel like a cliche horror movie he absolutely loathes.
By Monica on 10.02.2014
There’s a distinct trail of footsteps behind me. They mark my past failings and successes. I was much better then, than I am now.
I have no idea what lies ahead. I don’t have any tracks to point that out.
By Ayra URL on 10.02.2014
Step… step… step…
I try to silence my breathing underneath the bed. From behind the fallen duvet, I can see one, then two heavy, dirty, brown work boots. A drop of red hits the carpet in front of them. Blood, dripping off the man. I stifle a terrified sound. My heart beats too loudly in the silent room.
In a gravely voice, he speaks, “I know you’re in here, little girl. I can smell you.”
Step… step… step…
By darseyrsm URL on 10.02.2014
She walked through the wet dewy grass and looking back could see the footsteps, and path she had taken.
By marylou wynegar URL on 10.02.2014
footsteps, i always hear footsteps just as I’m about to fall asleep. i wonder if it ever really means anything. am i supposed to get up and go check it out? or am i supposed to ignore it and continue onto my slumber. those soft steps, i wish i could walk again..
By xicter on 10.02.2014
I heard her footsteps outside my door, the scuffing of leather boots against the straw mat. A couple of clicks and snaps, then a rush of hot air, signaled that she was lighting a cigarette. I was not inside my house. I was, instead, in the garden on the left side, tending to the squash plants that I had watered a few hours earlier when the sun wasn’t so hot and heavy in the sky.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 10.02.2014
The footsteps tapped quietly against the floor; tap, tap, tap. I peeked around the corner, heart racing, ready to bolt at any moment. They grew closer; tap, tap, tap.
In a moment, he was around the corner.
By Melody on 10.02.2014
The kitten trod across fields of downy feathers, her soft footsteps silent amid the down.
She pursued a mouse until it, too, got lost in the sea of white.
By Kumquat URL on 10.02.2014
there wasn’t anywhere else to go.
The click of heels against the floor usually wasn’t menacing, I mean, come on. Who’d be scared of heels?
In today’s world, everyone.
It wasn’t even debatable: you heard it, and you ran.
By lorin URL on 10.02.2014
He didn’t hear them approaching at first, honestly; they were so soft and quiet that it was hard to imagine that he wasn’t imaging them. But when he raised his eyes slowly, he found another pair staring at him – bright green, like all of the forests of the world. Startled, he took a few steps back, unsure what to do.
“You are so much more than this,” the figure whispered. And then was gone.
By Starmy on 10.02.2014
There is no snow to cover my footsteps, you can see every indent in the sun baked dirt. My life leaves a noticeable trace and sometimes I’m not sure whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. It just is.
By Katie URL on 10.02.2014
I heard the footsteps….. calm at first and then more rapid to a frantic state. A ghost, or a big black dog with a small bladder that just needs to do his business outside.
By ns on 10.02.2014
footsteps…. the sound of a somber stroll through a solitude the likes of which no thing in this universe is subjected to more than man; an auditory torture filled with doubt, dread, and uncertainty about what news may come.
By Chelsea Brown on 10.02.2014
I still hear you coming down the hall,
the pitter patter of your footsteps
when you’d hear me and my keys.
I still feel the weight of you,
pressing on my pillow;
feel your gaze upon my skin
you crawl all over me
and I will never let you go.
By Marissa URL on 10.02.2014
I loved flying once
But society binds me
To take mere FOOTSTEPS
Grow your own damn wings
Instead of caging the winged
And join us in flight
Through us live, if you can’t fly
OR gaze not the sky
By !Haiku-Mann! on 10.02.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.