Chris


 * Genre: Horror **
 * Characters: A school principal, Professional DJ **
 * Setting: A school, A cafeteria, **
 * Starting: “Aaaaaarrrghhhh” **


 * “Aaaararrrrrghhhhhhhhhh, what hideous shoes are you wearing? That should be against school dress code!” screams the school principal, “take them off!! OR ELSE!”. Naturally, the DJ paid no attention to the principals warning, continuing on with his hideous shoes on… **


 * After school, as the sun was setting, the DJ was preparing to go home.. **
 * He heard a girl crying behind him….but nobody was there..? Then he heard “those shoes…..that color….you…. YOUUU” **


 * “Crap, I should’ve listened, I should’ve taken them off, I should’ve…” though the DJ **
 * “Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” he hears the shriek once more…. **
 * “Aaahhhh, I have to get out..I need to run” **


 * “Tip...tap….tip...tap” sounds the shoes of...who? **


 * At that moment, the DJ realised, “these shoes are swag, haters gonna hate.” He ignored the strange wailing sound and swiftly returned home. Eerily, not five minutes after he returned, the phone rang. “Who may it be?” he thought. The DJ was confused, but proceeded to pick up the phone. **


 * “Hello, is this the_sovereign?” **
 * “Um… yes, and who may be calling?” **
 * A long silence suspended. Awkwardly, the conversation halted and became terribly icy… ‘who is this mysterious call?’ **


 * Finally, after what seemed like eternal terror, the voice on the other line declared: “This is Spinnin’ records. We would like to say that we’ve enjoyed your song “I am Storm” and “Listen to House, Why not Mansion?” a lot! With your permission, we would love to play both of them on our radio station this month.” **


 * “Really?” exclaimed the_sovereign. “Why of course! That would be amazing! Thank you for the opportunity.” **
 * “Not a problem,” Spinnin’ records began to reply. “In fact, we would also love for you to do a live show with the Swedish House Mafia.” **
 * “I thought the Swedish House Mafia disbanded?!” asked the DJ. **
 * “Well yes they have, but after listening to your music, especially ‘I am Storm’, they were inspired into reforming.” **
 * “DUDE THATS SO SWEETT GG OP!” **


 * Suddenly, the voice on the other side turned to static. “Hello?” No reply. “What is going on?” Silence. Brandon put down the phone. He was confused but he took into account the bad signal within the vicinity of his residence, so he shrugged it off. Without a moment delay, the phone began to ring again. The sound resonated within the dark empty room, it resonated within Brandon’s skull. **
 * “Hello?” **
 * “Your…..shoes…..are…….ugly….” **
 * “Who is this?” **
 * “...and...you….should...feel...bad” **
 * “Is this some sort of prank?” **
 * “Im...going...to...murder...you...with….your…...shoes…” **
 * Brandon was horrified. He slammed down the phone and immediately ran into his bedroom. He tried to take off his shoes, maybe that could mean the slightest chance of survival. But his shoes were too tight. Brandon cursed his tiny feet. “If only I was taller, i then buy and fit into bigger shoes.” As Brandon struggled with his shoelaces, he heard a large thud. Then footsteps. each one louder than the other. Mimicking the beats of his heart. Brandon screamed. He didn’t know what to do. His life flashed before him, his mother picking him up after he fell down the slide, the ridicule he suffered from throughout high school, that one girl who he dated that was taller than him. As Brandon clenched onto his key necklace and prayed for his life. The footsteps stopped. **
 * “Hello?” **
 * “Who is it?” **
 * The door then slammed open, and their Parham was. **
 * The door then slammed open, and their Parham was. **


 * “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH” shrieked like as loud and feminine as can be… Thinking of a way to run… but it was all too late… in the hands of Parham...was a pair...an identical pair...of burgundy shoes… It was then DJ Brandon realized… it was all a trap… the phone call about Swedish House Mafia, the radio station… it was all a trap… it was all set out to have him off guard, have him situated at one place… all to prepare him for his death… **


 * With the blood stained burgundy shoes in Parham’s hand… DJ Brandon prayed, gripping his key necklace… hoping this would be all a dream… **
 * “tip……...tap…...” **
 * brandon begging for mercy now… **
 * “PLEASE SPARE ME… I’LL GET RID OF THEM NOOOOO PLEASEEEEEE……” **
 * “tip…. tap….” closer she came closer“.....tip….tap….” **
 * “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH….” **
 * -thud- **
 * That was the last drop he ever had… **