You're a little shocked at the path your thoughts are taking. You always considered yourself to be a 'good guy' and here you are in a kidnap/ murder! Your imagination begins to work as you walk out into the garden to plan the act holding the tiny victim.
She's tiny, like an insect, less than a centimeter tall and completely in your power. And power corrupts.
There's a broken panel in the fence on the other side of the garden to Clara's house and you see over into the Purdey's garden and their back porch. The door is open and next to it are a pair of large worn ladies trainers, obviously belonging to Maria Purdey.
Maria is a single mother of three. A large lady of about forty with a mediterranian look about her. An evil thought occurs to you.
You cautiously move aside the broken fence panel and sneak into her garden up to her shoes. Your heart is racing, out of fear of getting caught and guilt over what you're doing, but you feel sickly excited with the power.
The trainers have been recently worn and are warm. They are dirty and old and smell of Mrs Purdey's feet. They are big too, looking inside at the dirty insole you can just make out almost worn away the number '10'. Too big even for you.
The tiny shrunken girl (Clara a quiet voice whispers to you in your mind) is still, knocked out by the rapid acceleration of being lifted and carried about. She stirs restlessly with what sounds like a tiny tweet.
Feeling dirty and heart thumping you tip her into the big right shoe, and she rolls a little way inside where she can't be seen.
Quickly you rush back through the fence and replace the panel, suddenly terrified of being caught! You barely have time to finish before Maria Purdey returns to her garden!
You duck down and peer under the fence, heart jack-hammering.
From this low angle on a slope leading up to the floor of the Purdey garden you have an ant's (Clara's?) eye view of Maria Purdey and you can't help but be impressed by her, though she's no model.
It's a hot sunny day, and she is dressed for it wearing only a blue bikini which her voluptuous body spills out of, glistening with sweat, large sunglasses jewelry, a wide brimmed straw hat. She carries a large green watering can.
Then you look at her suddenly very big, very dangerous and suddenly frightening bare feet as she steps down next to her shoes.
You start, as you think of Clara in one of them, and how fragile she is next to that massive sweaty foot. You feel guilt stab up at you again.
What are you doing??
Mrs Purdey sits on the back step, only a few feet away from you putting the can down next to her. She reaches for her shoes...
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