Two Steps Back -ON HOLD

//two//

"This is the most boring event ever," I mumbled to myself. Why did I end up here of all places? Why now?

Let me give you a picture of what I am dealing with right now, so that you could understand my ordeal and how it feels to be in my shoes.

Picture this: Thirteen old people hobnobbing with each other inside a creepy-looking old house. This house is so creepy that every step I take would create this squeaky sound reverbarating across the wooden floor— yes! This is exactly how a haunted house would sound like in a horror movie. It was that creepy.

And when I say old people, I mean really really really old. I heard that the youngest one in their group is actually seventy four. I wanted to laugh so hard when they put "youngest" and "seventy four" in one sentence. It just sounded so wrong in so many levels. Who would do that, right?

They call themselves The Horae Sisterhood. Why? Don't ask me. I have no freaking clue. I don't know and I don't care. I just want to get out of here. Actually, Nana recounted to me their entire history during the two-hour long drive, but of course I wasn't listening to her. I was too mad and too heartbroken to hear any of it today.

When we arrived in the house, I was greeted by a pack of excited old women who all insisted on kissing my cheeks. Just brushing my cheeks against wrinkled skin sent shivers down my spine. It was the weirdest feeling ever.

But the sight of them dancing and singing songs was enough to lose my patience. What did I just get myself into? It should be illegal to allow old people over the age of thirty to dance like this. Even their jokes sounded so lame. I wonder if it's a natural progression for every human being to be this lame. If it is, then I don't want to get old. Ever.

Instead of allowing myself to get tortured even further, I decided to roam around the creepy house and busied myself looking at (guess what) more old things. Gosh, this whole house and all its contents could give any museum a run for its money. It's filled with antique pieces and framed photos of what seemed like already dead people.

One of the larger frames caught my eye. It's a portrait of a beautiful lady who looked so regal in her Sunday's dress. But my gaze quickly shifted straight to her shoes. They were the most gorgeous pair of shoes I've ever seen in my life! They're not Manolo's or Loubotins, but they're classy and pretty all at the same time. Looks comfortable too.

There's a handwritten caption at the bottom, which read "Q.Horae, 1869". I furrowed my brows, slightly unimpressed. It's quite old.

I noticed a small door was slightly ajar right under where the painting was hanging. I opened it out of curiosity and inside the cabinet is the exact same pair of shoes wrapped in fancy scented paper. They're so stunning and actually looks more beautiful than the ones in the picture.

You probably heard this before but, us girls are typically categorized into two. We are either bag lovers or shoe lovers. And I guess at this point I've made it quite obvious that I am a shoe lover.

So I marvelled at the velvety cushioned insole, the intoxicating scent of genuine Italian leather, gold hardware, and perfect stitching. Such craftsmanship! And it's pink too, my favorite color. No contest. These are the best shoes I've ever seen in my whole life!

There was a message written inside the right shoe.

"I summon Q.Horae, powerful goddess of time and fate. Two steps back to turn back the hands of time. I invoke thee." I smiled at how silly that sounded.

I flipped one shoe and noticed that it's a size six.

"Perfect for me!" I exclaimed, smiling. An evil plan forming in my head.

I silently sneaked outside to hide the shoes at the trunk of my car and went back to the old women like nothing happened. A mischievous grin plastered on my face. Atleast I got myself a souvenir from all of this.

That Alina stole my dream. I am stealing someone's shoes.

All's fair in love and war. Or is it?