The Price Of Paws: Stolen Steps




In a market where nothing is ordinary, Jack the German Shepherd finds a pair of shoes with a cost he never imagined. Once worn, the price must be paid.




The market stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a noisy jumble of scents and colors and Jack the German Shepherd wove through the crowds awkwardly. His ears twitched at the calls of vendors advertising fruit, incense, scarves and more. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular - just enjoying the atmosphere of a Saturday afternoon.

That was when he saw them.

A pair of shoes sat in the window of an old antique shop, adorned in faded cloth. Deep emerald green Converses, spotless against a backdrop of tarnished trinkets. Their white laces gleamed in the sunlight as if freshly bleached. Compared to the rest of the stall, they stood out, like they didn’t belong there.

Jack stopped and tilted his head. Something about them called out to him. He didn't need them. He had lots of shoes that he didn't really wear, but these Converses were different, somehow.

He entered the shop, picked them up and turned them over in his hands. They looked new and unworn. It was then Jack knew he wanted them and turned to the vendor.

“How much?”

The vendor, a raccoon with sharp eyes, smiled faintly. His clothes were vintage and looked good on him. He wasn’t old but he looked as though he had seen more than his years should allow. There was something strange about him. He was neither youthful nor elderly, but almost suspended in time, like a statue that has been around for generations.

“For you? A fair price. They’re waiting for paws like yours. Simply pay what you feel they’re worth and I'll accept it.”

"Weird sales pitch." Jack chuckled.

Still, he couldn’t look away. Something about them tugged at him, as though they’d been placed there just for him. He paid a ridiculously low amount without haggling, stuffed the shoebox under his arm and turned to leave. As he walked away, he failed to see the evil smirk spread across the raccoon’s face.

The park was quiet that afternoon, a rare break considering it was a pleasant sunny day. Jack found a bench beneath the oaks, opened the box and pulled the shoes out. They looked even sharper in proper daylight - light in weight and flexible, yet sturdy material.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to test them,” he muttered to himself.

He slipped off his worn trainers that he'd owned for many years and tugged the green Converses on. They fit perfectly and the fabric hugged his paws snugly, molding around each muscle with comfort and care. He flexed his toes and the shoes flexed in response. They were almost too comfortable.

Then, through no movement of his own, the laces tightened around Jack's paws and knotted tight.

Jack blinked in shock. He hadn’t touched them, yet they locked in place with a snap. He tugged at them in agitation but the knots didn’t give.

A tingling then spread through his paws, like pins and needles after sitting too long. He wriggled his toes trying to shake it off, but the sensation grew stronger and began to crawl up his ankles.

“Alright, that's...weird.” Jack said out loud and shifted on the bench, tugging harder but nothing happened. The shoes clung to his paws as if fused to him.

Then from the shoes came a pulling sensation. It was a feeling that was hard for Jack to process.

It started with pressure across his soles. The canvas material seemed to press firmly against his fur and he felt a firm tug downward. He gasped as his paws were wrenched away from his legs and his ankles appeared to strain and stretch. For a moment he thought the shoes might just rip apart.

The tugging continued and the shoes carried on moving by themselves, dragging Jack’s body with them. His body lurched as his paws separated free from his legs with a sickening, silent detachment. No pain, no blood. Just absence. He toppled sideways off the bench, landing hard on the grass.

His legs ended in rounded stumps, smooth and bare. For a stunned moment, he lay frozen, staring.

The shoes rose to a stand and still inside them were his paws. His ankles peeked just past the edges of the tongues. And when he flexed his toes, Jack felt it.

His heart pounded loudly. He could move them, even though they were physically separate from his body. He curled his toes inside the shoes, trying desperately to make them step back toward him, but nothing happened. The shoes were somehow ignoring him and holding his feet hostage. They were a passenger now, able to wriggle but powerless to direct. As he watched, the shoes turned silently toward the park path.

“No…” Jack clawed at the grass, dragging himself forward. “No, come back!”

Then they ran.

Jack cried out, scrambling after them, his knees digging into the earth. He could feel every strike of his paws against the pavement. His pads slapped and his claws scraped inside rubber soles, but the motions weren’t his. The shoes sprinted effortlessly, carrying his stolen feet away.

“STOP!” His voice cracked. “Those are mine!”

People turned on the path, aware of the sudden noise. A husky with a stroller paused, ears flattening as she watched the bizarre sight - a pair of shoes running on their own with a pawless desperate German Shepherd crawling after them.

Jack’s lungs burned. His new stumps scraped against gravel as he dragged himself forward. He could feel his toes stretching, flexing and curling inside the shoes, but they didn’t obey him.

The shoes grew smaller in the distance, pounding away down the sunlit path. Jack collapsed on the grass, chest heaving as the phantom rhythm of running paws echoed in the afternoon air.

They were still his paws. He could feel the wind brushing over them, the flex of muscles and the rubber vibrations as the soles hit the concrete. But they weren’t his anymore.

The last thing he saw before they vanished over the hill was the glint of green in the sunlight. His paws, carried effortlessly away.

He pressed trembling hands over his stumps and a choked whimper erupted from his throat. He was still connected and aware, but powerless to stop them.

His paws were gone. And they weren’t coming back.


---


Evening came and the market was closing for the day. The raccoon vendor sat quietly, putting the unsold items back into boxes, when a familiar patter of rubber soles approached. The noise didn't surprise him and a smile formed slowly on his face.

The emerald shoes appeared in the shop doorway, obediently carrying their prize. They stopped before the raccoon with Jack’s paws still perfectly inside.

“Another good catch.” The raccoon chuckled. He lifted the shoes gently and carried them into his shop.

Jack’s feet twitched once, his claws scraped faintly against the insides. He could still feel everything - the cool evening air and, more worryingly, fingers brushing his fur.

The raccoon vendor hummed, setting the sneakers on a countertop. With careful hands, he untied the laces. The shoes loosened and, with a slow, deliberate tug, he drew Jack’s feet out.

The ankles ended in a smooth stump, as though they had never belonged to legs at all. The raccoon admired them, turning them in his hands.

“Strong paws. Good shape. Canines always do well.”

Jack still lay on the floor of the park, but had managed to drag himself to a quiet area where people probably wouldn't see him. He jolted as he felt his toes spread apart at the vendor’s touch. It was a surreal phantom sensation that crawled up his stumps.

The raccoon carried the paws to a door at the back of the shop and unlocked it with a ring of brass keys. Inside was a room bathed in a cold fluorescent light.

Glass boxes lined the walls, stacked in neat shelves. Each box contained a pair of paws of different shapes, sizes and species. Some furred, some scaled and some bare-skinned. Each pair sat as though freshly cut, yet every single one twitched faintly, alive and moving independently.

Jack’s stomach twisted with nausea. He could feel the coolness of the air in the room and the hands still gripping his separated paws. He had no clue what was happening to his kidnapped appendages.

The raccoon placed Jack’s paws in an empty glass box and closed the lid with a click.

Jack’s toes twitched madly against the glass, but the box was unyielding. He felt the cold surface beneath his pads and the air was still cool around his toes.

The raccoon then slapped a sticker on the glass that read 'NEW ARRIVAL.'

The raccoon seemed to occupy himself for a moment before retrieving Jack's paws from their glass prison. He placed them on a table and pulled out a camera, snapping photos from every angle. Claws, pads, profile shots and more. He adjusted Jack’s feet like a professional stylist, muttering to himself.

“Good symmetry. Nice curve to the toes. Strong nails.”

Click after click of the camera echoed throughout the room and, in time, uploaded the pictures to an online listing site, typing briskly:

“German Shepherd Feet. Pristine, One Of A Kind. Starting bid: £500.”

Below the new listing, dozens of others scrolled past:

Tabby Cat Paws (SOLD)

Young Wolf Toes (REDUCED)

Otter Feet — Limited Time Offer

Jack's stomach churned, still unable to process what was happening to his paws. He could feel it all but could not make them step forward. He was helpless but filled with rage. He clawed at his stumps, sobbing. The connection never ended - every movement, every sensation through his soles and pads sent phantom jolts back to him.

As the raccoon watched, the first bids appeared: £520. £580. £600.

Jack's paws weren’t just gone. They were merchandise.

The vendor, satisfied, placed Jack's paws back into the glass box and positioned them on a shelf next to a pair of ginger feline paws, before returning to his shop. The sneakers were returned to a new shoebox and he placed them carefully in the shop window once more, where sunlight would strike them in the morning.

The next day a shadow fell across the window. A young fox then entered, maybe nineteen years old and pointed.

“How much for the shoes?”

The raccoon smiled.

“For you? A fair price. They’re waiting for paws like yours. Simply pay what you feel they’re worth and I'll accept it.”

The fox grinned, pulling out his wallet.

Meanwhile, in the back room, Jack’s paws twitched hopelessly in their glass box as the bidding price ticked higher and higher. Soon to be purchased and sent to their new owner.

To be continued?