Sleeping Feet Story Novels & Stories

He even remembered to remind me. He knew and remembered everything. And yet, he still cheated. His voice was hoarse while his breathing was ragged—like a dying fish gulping for air. A cold, sinking feeling spread through my body, like I'd fallen into an icy river. My limbs felt weak, and even my head felt unbearably heavy. Why would he send me a voice message while they were in bed? Did they get off on this? Without thinking, I called him. "Is there something wrong with the project?" I asked. "Or do your clients just not have wives and kids to go home to this late at night?"

I slowly opened them again to try and get them accustomed to the light again even as it mercilessly pierced my already sleep filled aching orbs. "Good, be down in 10, will you?" She grinned, gently tapping my bare thigh before getting off my bed and walking to my white, wooden bedroom door. I closed my eyes and threw my arm over my closed eyelids to try and get rid of the stubborn sleep that I so loved. Knowing that this method would only be futile, I groaned as I got off my bed until my bare feet were greeted by my rough, dark grey carpeted floor. Using my feet, I located my sandals and slipped my feet into them before standing up and trudging my way to my adjoined bathroom. I quickly rinse

I guess that was the bed he was laying me on. I felt my stilettos taken off from my feet and the next thing, stiff clothing covered my body and I writhed, turning to sleep on my side. I heard footsteps walking away from me and then the sound of the closing door. Immediately I heard the sound of the closing door, I opened my eyes staring at the door with a stern face as my face slowly scanned through the spacious room I was sleeping in.

My big toe peeks through a hole at the top. Beside me, the crying girl slips into her shoes and lifts herself to her feet. Shaking like a leaf, she turns and bends to make her bed. I don't understand why since she won't be coming back to it. Surely she knows that? I stand up, catching her attention. She peers at me through her messy blonde locks, and I offer her a small smile. She averts her watery gaze. Swallowing hard, I smooth my palms down my grey, long-sleeved nightdress and step away from my mattress. I follow the lead of two boys who line up against the far wall by the entrance to our sleeping quarters.

How am I supposed to sleep here? I slowly sat on the bed and ran my hands on the mattress. Gulping down my curiosity and fear, I stood up and set my feet on the ground. Instead of cold ground I felt something feathery rubbing my feet. I looked down and found a pair of soft slippers. Without any thought, I slipped into them. They are soft and I feel like I'm walking wearing feathers and I will fly anytime.

I replied. After that, we sat close together on the floor, sharing what she’d packed; canned beans and strips of dried meat. Neither of us said much because we were too exhausted and before long we were lying down, a small blanket pulled over us. Sleep came easy, and so did morning. The next thing I knew, faint morning light was slipping through the cracks in the walls, brushing softly across my face. Then something jabbed my foot. Pain shot through my ankle, dragging me halfway out of sleep.

Because of that, she was finally able to awaken the next morning… Feeling like she had just woken from a thousand-year nap, she groggily muttered, “Legs… Numb…” Stirring awake when he heard that, he walked over to her and said, “The children insisted on sleeping by your feet… I’ll move them away so that blood can flow into your legs again.”

A strange room, strange bed, and strange darkness surrounded her, When it finally came flooding back, Rosa relaxed and flopped back against the soft pillows She had no idea what time it was or even how long she had slept. Sitting up she strained to hear any sounds from the room beyond but couldn't pick up anything. She climbed across the bed to the edge. Her legs dangled over the edge and it made her laugh when she noticed that her feet didn't even touch the floor. The bed was like something from a fairy tale. But sh was no princess.

Farrell: I awakened with a tightness in my chest. Then I realized I was naked to the chest and sleeping on cold tiles. This could only mean one thing: I was still sleep walking. The elderly lady’s incessant cry for her daughter overwhelmed my ears, causing me to force my eyes open.

Patient enough to wait. I didn't have a name yet. But I had a shape. And the shape was familiar in a way that made something cold move through me slowly. --- Sleep came eventually despite the chair and the light and the cold. The particular sleep of a body that has stopped caring about conditions and simply shuts down. I woke to footsteps. Hard-soled shoes on a concrete floor. A specific rhythm that meant someone with authority and no need to soften their approach. I raised my head from my arms.