You spend a solid three minutes surveying the scene. You consider as many options as possible to determine their feasibility. Eventually, you come to the worst possible conclusion: Any other method of getting Samantha's attention requires too much effort and has too much risk associated. You would have to....get near her feet.
You shudder at the thought. Watching her toes wiggle within the confines of her damp sock is enough to put a shiver down anyone's spine. You always thought Samantha's feet were weapons before, what with her tomboyishness and all the soccer. But now? Weapons of mass destruction was more like it.
You take a few moments to steel yourself, and then you push forward without further delay. Samantha is sitting still and reading on her phone, this scenario is far better than trying to catch her attention while she walks around.
You don't even get that close to her feet before your nose picks up the scent. It's subtle, at first. The air is normal, and then with every few sniffs you think you catch of a whiff of something foul. But as you get closer, it becomes obvious. All you can smell is a strong sweaty odor.
From afar, her feet seemed big, but manageable. Now that you're fast approaching, their size really becomes apparent. You didn't realize it before, but you know now: You're just a bug at her feet. You see her toes wiggle again, but this time, they're taunting you. Daring you to approach. They want to show you that they're gods, and you're a speck.
You shake yourself out of your daze. Are you deifying your sister's feet? It's hard not to, with their relative size to you, as well as the oppressive smell. You crane your neck upwards as you walk. Samantha is still fixated on her phone, scrolling, reading, occasionally typing. She's the real god, here. She's a goddess, lording over you without even trying. You hope she doesn't catch on to how humiliating of a position you're in before her. She might try to keep it that way.
Finally, you reach her feet. The sweaty feet smell is choking, the air is practically swampy this close to her. Her socks are clearly damp from all the sweat they soaked in during her short practice. And yet, despite all this, this is the only way you could think of of getting her attention.
Wasting no time, you pound your fist into her massive toes. You go all out, you don't even care if it hurts her. You need her attention now, and fast. Before you pass out!
Without warning, the dingy orange monolith slides forward and barrels you over. You find yourself flattened under the damp cotton, surrounded in sweat and itchiness. The foot settles onto you, and you can feel thousands of pounds coming into place, comfortable keeping you underneath it. Then it rubs back and forth, grinding you into the floor. Before lifting away, freeing you. Leaving you in a pathetic pile on the floor of your sister's room, defeated. You look up, and finally her giant blue eyes have moved from her phone to you. She looks down at you, curious.
1. She thinks she found a bug. Time to kill it? Or keep it?
2. She recognizes you. She excitedly picks you up so she can hear what the heck happened.
3. She recognizes you, but can't help but wonder why on earth you approached her sweaty feet. She comes to some conclusions you don't like...
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author