Wizards' shoes

What I hate most in the world are idiots, or those people with such a weak will that instead of choosing what to do with their lives, they leave it at the mercy of fleeting circumstances.

The second thing I hate most in the world are lies, which is what fearful people use to mask their insecurities so they feel in control. I especially hate my lies.

The third thing I hate most in the world are wizards' shoes. There is not a single thing about them that can be praised or appreciated. They are terrible in every aspect. The first time I came into contact with such monstrosities was when a friend of mine invited me on a trip and with him was the younger sister of the girl he was in love with. I, as someone who knows a thing or two about shoes, almost fainted at the sight of the inhuman footwear that the girl, as a sorceress, wore. However, if my only contact with wizards' shoes had been this one, however disgusted, I would never have taken the trouble to point out their repugnance with as much precision as I am about to use.

As the son of a shoemaker, one day I happened to receive the request to repair the shoes of this sorceress and despite the shiver of terror that first pervaded me, a feeling comparable to the one I felt when my friend died in front of me falling down the stairs, I accepted the exuberant request.

As soon as I started working on the shoes, I realized they were irretrievable in the condition they were in. The mere idea of being able to get rid of those dangerous objects filled me with joy. Hence the decision to do all humanity a favor: I cremated them.

Deprived of my main source of discomfort, I set to work with the genuine interest of creating the best magician shoes that ever existed. I would only later realise the vanity of this objective. There are no better wizard shoes than others. They are all equally atrocious.

Wizards' shoes are known to culminate in a curved front toe of dubious necessity. In current fashion, this is applied to boots and moccasins as well as sandals and sneakers, which were the ones I was dealing with. The latter, which in my country are called "trainers", sit on dynamic rubber soles that, in wizards' shoes, thins and curves following the ambiguous shape of the toe.

Given the absurd and uncomfortable appearance, one naturally wonders about the origin of such baleful creation. Why on earth do wizards wear wizards' shoes? There are rumors in magical communities that the rounded tip serves to better channel the flow of mana, but this makes no logical sense because wizards can only cast spells from their hands, not their feet. Despite the fact that research proves this to be false, many wizards firmly believe this rumour, but the truth is that this is just a fable they tell themselves to justify their barbaric habits whose origins they ignore.

This alone would be enough to understand how pernicious these shoes are, yet we can continue to dig deeper, so as to realise how every single aspect of them is profoundly nefarious.

Some think that wizards' shoes originate from the shoes of pixies. As often recounted in folk tales and anecdotes, in the past it happened that the most industrious and skilled craftsmen would fall asleep in the middle of their work, only to wake up and find their product ready and finished on the counter. This mysterious occurrence was often explained by the presence of pixies, no bigger than a few inches, who, amazed by the skill of the craftsmen, decided to help them when time and energy were insufficient to complete their work. Pixies are known to be supreme experts in stealth, so much so that encounters of the third kind are very rare. For this reason, actual descriptions of these little creatures are scarce and mostly discordant, although more recent popular culture has spread the image of small elves with curved-toed shoes. Based on the oldest stories, it is often said that shoemakers would have started producing curved-toe shoes just to honor the little pixies.