Heels tapped on the pavement, cracked red patent flashed ’Stop!’
She could only go, despite the pinch on her little toe.
Her sister’s shiny red leather rubbed her blisters raw.
She had none of her own, no trainers, boots or sandals to her name.
She had sold everything to fund her habit, to keep her sane.
If she’d read the story, she’d have known about the tight squeeze of a red shoe.
Kim M. Russell, 23rd July 2026
A poem from April 2018, originally written for a Poetry School NaPoWriMo Prompt, now reworked as a response to Denise’s Six Sentence Story Prompt. There is “no forced switch to another format in order to participate.” The prompt word, ‘pinch’ was given last Sunday, “to use in a story, next scene, soc or portion of poetry in exactly 6 sentences.” The rules are easy to follow: Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
writing in north norfolk 