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THE BOOTS WERE FASHIONED out of feet and nailed into the ground outside in the grass. I wasn’t quite sure what the nails were for until I approached the feet. They wriggled, toes flexing and un-flexing. I backed away in disgust.
“If I didn’t keep ‘em nailed down,” the proprietor said. “They would hop right out of here!” He stood in the doorway smoking a pipe. He was a tall man with thin gangly legs and arms, a large belly. His bearded head sat upon his shoulders with no transition between. He smiled, exposing a row of long, crooked yellow teeth and black gums. Periodontitis came to mind and I grimaced. “Oh, don’t mind them, they harmless.” He laughed a wheezing laugh that ended in a spasm of coughing.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, sobering quickly when I didn’t join his laughter. The feet-boots continued to wriggle and squirm beneath the nails.
“Just wanted to look around,” I said. The man motioned inside with a sweeping arm, and I went in. It was frigid as I started looking around at the shelves of strange items. There were face parts, each in different labeled boxes. Ears, noses, lips, eyes. The eyes made me shudder. A couple of them were turned up and they followed me as I walked by, or at least that’s how it seemed. Another shelf held limbs. Legs and arms were tossed onto this shelf. One of the arms was draped over the edge. When I walked by, it grabbed my shirt. I screamed.
The man laughed. When he sobered again, he took a long drag from the pipe.
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” he asked.
“No,” I said. I looked in a bin of hands. “Well, maybe.” I stood up and went to the counter. “I’m looking for a hand,” I said.
“Male or female?” he asked, sucking on the end of the pipe.
“Female,” I answered. “There was a ring.”
“So, it’s a left hand, eh?” the proprietor said. He walked in long strides to a corner in the store where he unlocked a glass case. “Is this the hand you are looking for?” He held the hand as if he were shaking it and laughed his raucous laugh again.
“Not exactly,” I said. “That’s not the right ring.” I peered over his shoulder at the other hands in the case, each had at least one ring on it. The hand I was looking for had a two-carat diamond ring attached to it. “I think it might be that one,” I said. I could have kicked myself for not knowing my own fiancés hand. We’d been together for years, and in all the times we held hands in the park, laughing and enjoying the sun, I never thought to examine it. Of course, back then, I never thought I’d be picking through a parts shop for it.
“Ah, yes,” the proprietor said. “This one was found down by the lake.” He held the hand gently, and I was grateful for his care.
“The lake,” I said, taking the hand carefully. It was definitely hers and I was relieved that I remembered something about it. There was a mole on the first joint of the thumb. “She loved the lake.” I sniffled.
“You can have it,” the man said, patting my shoulder. I looked at him, tears in my eyes. “For three thousand dollars,” he finished.
“Three thousand dollars?” I exclaimed. “The ring is only worth fifteen hundred!”
He stared hard at me. “Two thousand,” he negotiated.
“Fine,” I said. I paid him, and he wrapped my purchase in a silk scarf and placed it into a wooden box with a glass door.
I left the store, the package under my arm. As I walked past the boots I noticed there were wires leading from each nail. I followed the wires to a young man in the bushes. He was pulling on them, making the boots dance and squirm. I scowled at him and kept walking.
The days of the past were over. The days where the dead were properly buried, ceremonies given to honor them, wakes to give friends and family a last chance to say good bye. The dead were no longer honored, they were mutilated. Parts chopped off and sold to stores like this one, scavenged, salvaged. Murder was at an all-time high. With the selling price for rare parts, like hands with jewelry, arms with tattoos, ears with piercings, one could make a profit, a living even. People always searched, looking for pieces of their loved ones. Last remnants to bury and pray for, to keep as a memory. My fiancé was killed in the park we used to enjoy so much together. The only thing I ever found was her left hand.
