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January 13, 2008

 

The Little Red Shoes

 

"It's time for bed pumpkin."

"Mommy, will you tell me a story tonight."

"Sure. Go get your jammies on and brush your teeth and I'll be right up."

"Okay mommy."

A few minutes later the young woman walked into her daughter's room and, as always, marvelled at how alike they looked. Same green eyes with just a hint of gold, same luscious red hair, same turned up nose, even the same small, crescent-shaped mole under the left eye. Her little girl would grow up to look just like her.

"Mommy, tell me the story about the little red shoes."

"I told you that one last week, are you sure you want to hear it again ?"

"Yes mommy, it's the best story I've ever heard in my whole life."

"Okay pumpkin."


Once upon a time there was a girl named Margaret who lived in the city of Dublin in far away Ireland. Margaret's family wasn't poor but they were by no means wealthy. Rather, like most of their neighbours, they had enough money to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, with little to spare. Her father was a cabinet maker and her mother washed clothing for people who could afford to pay others do such things for them. Margaret attended the local school where she learned to read and write. Unlike many parents of the time, hers were not content that she should just one day get married, have children, and run a household. They wanted her to be get an education so she could make her own way in the world if need be.

One day Margaret was walking home from school when she stopped to look in her favourite shop window. The shop sold baubles and beads, candles and crystals, leather and lace, and all manner of marvellous things. She didn't have money to buy anything but she loved to look. Sometimes she would imagine she had been born a princess and lived in a castle filled with treasures like those she saw in the shop window.

Margaret admired the trinkets in the window for some time. Just as she was getting ready to leave the sun reflected off something on one of the shelves, throwing back a dazzling light. The light was white and so bright that she had to look away. When she looked back the light had changed to a wondrous glowing pink and she could just manage to see beyond it to what appeared to be a pair of small glass shoes, although she couldn't be certain as they were far away and the reflection was already dazzling her eyes again. She looked for a long while but no matter how hard she tried the distance and the dazzling light combined to confuse her. They might be shoes but then again they might not be.

Margaret had never dared go in the shop before, fearful that the shop owner would chase her away as soon as he realized that she couldn't afford to buy anything. But this time an urge so strong seized her that she couldn't ignore it. She had to go in and see what was on that shelf ! She opened the shop door and stepped inside. As she did so a bell above the door rang softly, announcing her presence to anyone within. The shop was dark, quiet, and warm. She could see dust motes dancing in the air. Strangely, a feeling of belonging here came over her, as if she was meant to be here at this moment in time.

Margaret looked around for the owner but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact she appeared to be all alone so she quietly made her way towards the back of the shop where she had seen the reflection. And there, high up on a shelf she spotted the little red shoes.

They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. More like tiny little boots than shoes, they were crafted of red glass so pale it was almost pink, with clear glass bows that appeared to be at once both ribbons and delicate leaves, and glass trim made to resemble luxurious fur. They seemed to capture what little light there was in the shop, magnify it ten-fold, and reflect it back in beams of white and pink.

Margaret looked at the shoes for what seemed like several minutes. She walked carefully around the shelf and admired them from all angles, noting that they seemed to reflect the light back at her no matter where she stood. She wanted to touch them, to hold them, but was afraid to even reach for them for fear she'd drop them and they would shatter into a million pieces. And that was when she heard the voice.

"Would you like to see them up close ?" asked the owner.

Margaret was startled out of her reverie and for a few moments she struggled to get the words out.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ... that is ... I thought I was alone ..."

"Here, let me show them to you" said the owner as he walked over to the shelf and carefully took down the shoes. He brought them to the front counter, set them down, and stepped back. Margaret approached the counter and stood as close as she dared, gazing at the shoes in wonder. They were even more beautiful up close. The red glass was so thin near the toe it was almost white. It got gradually thicker as it neared the top of the boot, where she could see that the glass was definitely red. The ribbons did indeed look like tiny clear glass leaves close up, leaves that had been knotted and tied together in a bow. And the trim ! Never had the little girl seen glass that so resembled fur ! The entire effect was one of a little pair of boots that had been crafted for a fairy princess.

"They're beautiful !" she exclaimed.

"Indeed they are" said the owner. Would you like to buy them ?"

"Me ... I ... That is ... I don't have any money."

"That is a problem" said the owner. "Perhaps you can come back when you do have money."

"I don't think I'll ... that is ... how much are they ?" Margaret asked.

"Two shillings" replied the owner.

"Two shillings, I don't have two shillings, I'll never have two shillings! " Margaret exclaimed.

"Perhaps your parents would lend you the money ?" asked the owner.

"No, I don't think so, they couldn't possibly spare it" Margaret replied.

"Well then, they'll be here if you want to look at them again" said the owner.

Moments after Margaret left the shop the owner took the shoes off the shelf. He'd been waiting for her to come along that day and see them, and now that she'd done so he put them away. He wasn't sure why he did this, and his wife certainly would have objected to his hiding an item that was for sale but he did it anyway. He just knew he was supposed to.

For the next several weeks Margaret stopped by the shop almost every day to look at the shoes. And each time the owner would put them on the shelf before she came in and put them away again after she left. He was after all a patient man. He could wait.

One day, approximately one week before Margaret's twelfth birthday her father came into the shop. Margaret had finally worked up the courage to tell her parents about the shoes a few days earlier and, unbeknowst to her, they had agreed to get them for her birthday. It was a lot of money and they could ill afford it but they wanted her to have something special for her birthday, especially given the other surprise they had in store for her.

The shop owner recognized Margaret's father the moment he walked in the door. Not that he'd ever seen the man before, nor did he particularly resemble his daughter, but he recognized him nonetheless. After all, he'd been waiting for him just like he'd waited for Margaret. He approached Margaret's father, and feigning ignorance, asked if he could help him. Her father said that he was looking for a little pair of red shoes that his daughter had seen. The owner went to the front counter, reached underneath and took out a little wooden box. Nestled inside, on a bed of satin, were the red shoes.

"How much ?" asked her father, thinking he would try to get the man to lower the price his daughter had quoted him.

"Take them, they're for the girl" the owner replied.

"I don't understand" said her father.

"I'm not sure I do either" replied the owner.

"I won't take charity" said her father.

"It isn't charity, she's meant to have them" replied the owner.

"Then why didn't you just give them to her yourself ?" asked her father.

"Because they must come from her parents" the owner replied.

"But why ?' asker her father.

"That's the part I don't understand" replied the owner.

The owner wrapped the box up and, amidst many protestations from Margaret's father regarding payment, gave him the box with the shoes. Margaret's father promised the owner he would pay him back some day then left.

The day of Margaret's birthday, at dinner, her parents presented her with the shoes. Then they broke the big news to her. They were moving to America in two months time. Margaret's parents wanted to start a new life in America and they especially wanted Margaret to have whatever opportunities there might be for a young lady in the new land.

That night, Margaret could barely get to sleep. She had the little red shoes and she was going to America ! Margaret imagined herself living in America. Perhaps with her education she could be a teacher. She might marry and have children too. And the little red shoes would always be a reminder of her homeland and of her parents love for her.

Time passed and soon Margaret's family was packing for the big trip. The excitement in the house was a palpable thing as all three of them imagined what their new lives would be like.

A few days before they were to leave Margaret's mother became ill. At first she sniffled, then she developed a cough. In the excitement of the big trip however she paid little attention to her symptoms. Besides, everyone said the salt air would do her good.

Came the day of the big departure Margaret and her parents eagerly awaited their turn to board ship in Queenstown.

"Mother, I've never seen anything so big, why even the letters in her name must be taller than I am" remarked Margaret as she looked up at the huge ship anchored before them.

"Indeed, it is immense" remarked her mother.

"Do you suppose that's why they called it the Titanic ?" asked Margaret.

"It could be dear" replied her mother.

Margaret's family boarded ship and set sail for America. For two days and nights they sailed across the Atlantic, eager to reach their new home. Then on the third night they were awakened by a terrible sound. The great ship seemed to have struck something. At first the ship continued to sail into the night but after a time it soon became apparent it was sinking.

Margaret's family took what they could carry then fled to the upper deck, where lifeboats were being lowered into the water. But the crew were loading women and children only ! Margaret's father helped Margaret and her mother aboard a lifeboat then, amid tearful farewells, the boat was lowered into the freezing water below.

Throughout the night the passengers and crew of the lifeboat huddled together for warmth. They burned anything they could to combat the terrible cold. Margaret's mother, fearing she would not survive the night, and wanting Margaret to know of the shop owner's generosity, told her how he had given the little red shoes to Margaret's father. Finally, several hours after being lowered into the icy Atlantic ocean, their life boat was spotted and they were rescued, but not before Margaret's mother, who had already been ill, had succumbed to the frigid temperatures.

"I'm getting tired mommy, can you just tell me what happened after Margaret was rescued ?" asked the little girl

"She grew up, became a teacher. Got married and raised a family, much as she had hoped to" replied her mother.

"Can I see before I go to sleep ?' asked the little girl.

"Just for a minute sweetie, then it's back to bed" replied her mother.

They tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room. There, on a high shelf in the corner, were the little red shoes and a photograph of Margaret and her parents taken days before they left Ireland so many years ago.

"I look just like her mommy" said the little girl.

"Yes, you do pumpkin" replied her mother.

"You look like her too mommy."

"Yes sweetheart, I look like her too"

 
 

Posted by OldGuy at January 13, 2008 9:26 PM

     

Comments

 

Wow, OldGuy... whew! Tears (and more tears).

A million years ago, long before I was born, anyway, my mom wrote a children's story called "The Little Blue Dishes", with a similar plot - minus the Titanic - but somehow, a poor little girl got the birthday gift of a tea-set she'd seen in a shop window. She sent the story to a magazine that the school she taught at subscribed to, and it was promptly rejected. My mom ripped the story up, and never wrote anything again. I still get upset when I think of that.

So thank you for writing this about my mom's Little Red Shoes. I cried the whole time I read it, thinking of "The Little Blue Dishes", and I'm going to print it out for my mom to read. I'm pretty sure she'll cry, too.

It's a wonderful, horribly sad/happy story. I'm sure the truth about the Little Red Shoes, if we only knew it, would pale in comparison.

Thanks again - you made my day. Tears and all. :-)

Posted by: Les Author Profile Page at January 13, 2008 11:38 PM

Hey Les
I'm very glad you enjoyed the story. Yes, tears and all. I was kinda going for that emotion so although I hope you didn't cry too much, a little makes me feel like I accomplished something. I hope your mother enjoys the story too.

BTW, I changed one word, and only one. Near the end, where the mom tells her daughter what eventually happened to Margaret I changed to word "expected" to "hoped." It just sounded better.

Posted by: OldGuy at January 14, 2008 9:06 AM

That was lovely. Thank you.

Posted by: Miss Cellania at January 15, 2008 10:45 AM

Miss C
How lovely to see you again. Sorry I haven't been to your place recently but I was away for a couple of months and lost touch with a few people. I'll be by later this week. I'll also add you back to the blog roll (a few links disappeared when the design got messed up due to the update to MT 4.1 a few months ago).

Posted by: OldGuy at January 15, 2008 11:52 AM

The cutest story I've read so far.
I love this :3

Posted by: hell at January 19, 2008 6:37 PM

hell
Glad you liked the story. I'm working on another one, should be up in a day or two. Welcome to the tree house.

Posted by: OldGuy at January 20, 2008 6:14 PM

Hey, send me an email. This post has won an award.

Posted by: Miss Cellania at January 31, 2008 12:23 AM