Sister Feet Story Novels & Stories

As he returned to work, I brought him a glass of water, when he just happened to reach out. We touched each other, but he withdrew his hand first and pretended like nothing happened. "Your sister won't survive." There was no doubt about it—anyone who could be objective would be able to see that there was no hope for my sister. Even with that mysterious spell that kept her alive despite losing almost all of her blood, it was just pointless. Two weeks later, the cops found her dried-up corpse in the middle of the street, every last drop of fluid drained out of her body.

Cassie trudged up the hill with her sisters, the massive packhouse looming before them. The three of them weren’t particularly tall, but they were strong. With thick auburn hair and hazel eyes. Their faces, arms and legs were largely covered in freckles. A gift from so many days spent out in the sun with the rest of the pack. The sun was fading now, as they walked through the main room and up the stairs to their families’ wing of the house. They shared a kind of suite, with three bedrooms branching off of a small sitting room. The large bathroom could accommodate all of them, but there always seemed to be a fight over its use.

Two legs walked by me and by the shape of it and the shoes, I could tell it was my Mother's. Snapping my eyes shut to push out the pain, I stretched out my hand to try to push myself back up when I felt pain shoot through my hand. I peered my eyes open to see my sister's six inches heel stepping my hand while she twisted her foot with a sinister look on her face. "Ah... Please..." I pleaded as more tears fell from my eyes. "Oops." She said with a fake voice followed by a giggle before she, gratefully and thankfully, stepped away from me.

Full of bath steam and little footprints. Bianna came into the kitchen behind me and picked a grape from the bowl on the island. “They were so happy, though.” I stared at the glass wall behind the sink. The yard was getting darker now. The little lake behind the house sat still as ever, like the world hadn’t just tried to stab me with a coincidence sharpened to surgical precision. “Yeah,” I said. “And, by the way...” Bianna tossed the grape into her mouth, far too casual. “Your sister’s fiancé looks like the twins.”

She is my younger sister. She walked out of my room forth and back each time with a jar of water in her hand. I couldn't bear my body being drenched again as I tried to stand on my feet I fell down on the floored ground. My heavy body being stuck on the floor. The racing of my heart ringing in my ear, I suddenly felt her heavy feet finding their ways at my back. Each time I tried to not to moan she always pressed her foot against me with such a great pressure.

He'll be back later, I'm sure. When my sister came in, I started chopping some things. She sat not far from me, attempting to reach the bottle of sugar for her coffee. But she dropped it by accident, and it broke near my feet. A shard of the shattered jar sliced the skin off my feet. I instantly knelt and checked it. My sister was just standing there staring at me. Instead of assisting me, she smirks and smiles at me. "You should have passed it to me instead of watching it earlier, look what happened!"

my twin sister asked. "I'm getting better, sister. Just some pain in my feet." My twin sister looks exactly like me. We have the same resemblance and beauty. Not to mention our height and skin color. My sister is slightly taller than me, and her eyes are a bit bigger, but they are beautiful. Unless you look closely or know us well enough, you wouldn't be able to differentiate between us. There was a time when my twin sister fought with Mariya, one of our high school mates, and I ended up receiving a beating from Mariya. She mistook me for Givia and teamed up with other students to beat me.

It's not fatal so it's not an emergency. I merely groaned while tossing my phone onto the bed. I made the decision to go to bed when my foot started to hurt once more in order to avoid feeling it. THE surroundings are dark. All I hear was a cry from a child. A scene I see over and over again. "Sister...” my youngest sister called. "Quenevere," I said as I looked around the dark place. "Sister, help me," she begged in fear in the middle of her sobs.

I asked for my sister, right? A lady's hand from outside holds on to his hand, and I look down to the heels, clicking the floor. Red heels, an elegant short dress that covers barely nothing of the classy lady's body, and the boobs are almost fully exposed. What is this? I asked him to bring my sister, not this thing he is calling a baby. What? He is trying to make me jealous. Oh, please! That sucks! Not even if he were the only man on earth.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, I heard footsteps, fast ones, running through the snow. I turned, my breath catching in my throat. There she was, coming right at me, arms out. Lara. My sister, looking older but real. Her hair was shorter, her face flushed from the cold and her eyes were wide with something like worry or relief. I froze for a second, not sure if it was her or a trick, but then she was there, pulling me into a hug tight enough to squeeze the air out.