THE MISSING BOOT 👢
Author: Marvelous peter Egbe
CHAPTER 1 — THE WHISPER UNDER THE FLOORBOAR
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The storm slammed against the old windows of Lara's apartment like fists begging to be let in. It was 3:18 a.m., and she sat hunched over her desk, staring at an object she wished she had never found.
A boot print, burnt perfectly into a stone tablet.
A single footprint.
Golden.
Perfect.
Unnaturally preserved, as if the owner had stepped on the stone only minutes ago.
Lara rubbed her eyes. She wasn't a superstitious person. She trusted dust, rock, soil. Not whispers. Not spirits. Not… whatever this was. Yet here she was, awake again because of the same nightmare.
A field of black sand.
A golden boot half-buried.
Someone calling her name from beneath the ground.
Tonight, however, the nightmare didn't end when she woke up.
The whisper followed her into the waking world.
"…the boot… bring it back…"
Lara froze.
It came from under her floor.
---
She stood slowly, heart pounding. The whisper came again, clearer this time, like a breath brushing against her ankle.
"…bring it back… bring… it… back…"
Lara stepped backwards until she hit the wall. She grabbed the closest object—a rusted crowbar she had used earlier to open a crate.
She knew she should leave the apartment. Call someone. Call anyone.
But curiosity—the same thing that drove her into ancient caves and forgotten tombs—pulled her closer to the sound.
She pressed her ear to the floor.
Silence.
Then—
KNOCK.
From beneath her.
A single knock.
As if something—or someone—was trapped under the foundation.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump. A message popped up from an unknown number:
DON'T LET IT OUT.
Before she could react, another message appeared:
Meet me at the Old River Port. Midnight tomorrow. I know why it's calling you. – Jabril Okonkwo
Lara swallowed hard.
She hadn't heard that name in years.
---
The following night, the Old River Port was wrapped in fog so thick Lara felt like she was walking through smoke. The abandoned warehouses rose like broken teeth from the ground, their windows smashed, their doors hanging open as if the buildings themselves were screaming silently.
Jabril was leaning against an old crane, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He looked older than she remembered. Tired. Haunted.
"You got the whisper too," Lara said without greeting.
Jabril nodded. "Three nights in a row."
"What does it want?"
Jabril hesitated, then whispered, "The Golden Boot."
Lara stiffened. The legend was supposed to be just that—a legend.
A relic forged by the ancient Uzanu tribe, said to grant immortality to anyone who wore it… but at the cost of their soul.
Before Lara could respond, footsteps echoed behind her.
A woman stepped out of the fog—tall, dark hair tied back, carrying a leather-bound journal.
Maya Singh.
Paranormal researcher.
"You both heard the call," Maya said quietly. "That means the boot has awakened."
---
The three stood in a tense triangle, the fog swirling around them like fingers of mist.
Maya opened her journal to a page filled with sketches—symbols, ancient drawings, and a single illustration of a golden boot glowing like fire.
"This artifact is not just a treasure," Maya said. "It's a beacon. It calls to those who disturb its resting place."
Lara frowned. "I didn't disturb anything. I only found a footprint."
Maya stared at her with cold intensity. "That was enough."
Jabril paced, rubbing his forehead. "My great-grandfather saw the boot once. He said it moved on its own. Said it walked even when no one was wearing it."
"That's impossible," Lara muttered.
Maya shook her head. "Not for something cursed."
Suddenly, the fog shifted. A low groaning sound rolled through the air—deep, vibrating, almost… human.
The wind sharpened, turning cold enough to sting their skin.
Jabril raised his flashlight.
"What was that?" he whispered.
Maya shut her book slowly.
"It followed us."
---
At first, Lara thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But then she saw it clearly—the fog pulling itself into shape.
A figure.
Tall.
Thin.
Broken-looking.
As if every bone had been rearranged incorrectly.
It stood at the edge of the dock, head tilted, staring at them without eyes.
Jabril cursed and stepped back. "Is that a ghost?"
Maya's voice was barely a whisper. "No. Worse. A Seeker."
Lara felt her blood turn to ice. "What does it want?"
Maya swallowed. "Seekers are guardians of cursed relics. They hunt anyone who tries to find the Golden Boot."
The creature took a step forward.
The sound it made was like bones snapping underwater.
Lara grabbed Jabril's arm. "We need to leave. Now."
But the creature moved faster than it should have. One moment it was ten meters away; the next, it was standing right behind Maya.
It whispered in a voice that sounded like wind through a grave:
"…bring… us… back… the boot…"
---
Maya froze, trembling. Lara acted first—swinging the rusted crowbar she had brought with her out of instinct.
The metal passed through the Seeker as if through smoke, but the creature staggered, its form flickering.
"It can be disrupted!" Lara yelled.
Jabril grabbed a piece of broken wood and swung it with the strength of panic. The Seeker exploded into a burst of fog—and vanished.
Silence returned to the river port.
Only their ragged breathing remained.
Maya steadied herself. "It won't stay gone for long. They reform."
Jabril grabbed Lara's shoulder. "We need to find the boot before the Seekers do. If it fully awakens, the curse will spread."
Lara nodded shakily. "But where do we start?"
Maya flipped through her journal until she found a faded map.
"The boot lies in the Valley of Black Sand. And we must leave by sunrise."
Lara felt the whisper again, brushing her ear, cold and hungry.
"…bring it back…"
But now she understood—
It wasn't calling for the boot.
It was calling from it.
The next morning, Lara returned to her apartment to pack. The air inside felt wrong—heavy, still, watching.
She lifted the stone tablet with the golden footprint and wrapped it carefully.
Then she heard it.
A soft scratching.
Coming from beneath the floorboards again.
Scratch… scratch… scratch…
As if something with bone fingers was clawing its way upward.
Lara backed away.
The whisper rose again, louder than ever:
"Lara… Lara… bring me back… I am not whole… bring me my other boot…"
Her blood froze.
"There are two boots?" she whispered.
The voice laughed—a horrible, empty sound that made her knees weaken.
The floorboards began to lift.
Something—someone—was pushing from below.
Lara grabbed her bag and ran out the door, slamming it shut as the first board cracked open.
She didn't look back.
The journey had begun.
And something under her home was now awake.