This word reminds me of Jesus Christ. Throughout my life, I’ve been trying to follow His footsteps and show kindness to others.
Chase McMillan
I heard footsteps in the house and that’s why I’m up at 3 AM. They were getting closer and closer. The first thing that came to my mind was to get up and run and never stop.
Taylor Karvonen
doneee
sam
done
sam
they are how you walk. some footsteps can be loud some can be quiet. my footsteps are usually loud.
sam
I don’t know what should I tell you about that. I’m not supposed to think, but I can’t. I think about sand, and you and us walking together like nothing bad can happen anymore and all my past becomes present and I’ve nowhere to go so I guess I shoud stay.
Lorena
hearing footsteps while in the darkness of your room is pure
blake
My footsteps bring all the boys to the yard.
tparr
Footsteps walking through the sand. Never ending. Wandering endlessly
Luis Tyson
The fun thing about being a parent is that it is not scary when I hear footsteps running down the hall to my room in the middle of the night. Well a different kind of scary at least. Actually when I hear footsteps I usually just try to crawl under the covers and hope that the kids can’t fine me.
Hillary
Fi Fi(?) fo fum. Rumbling footsteps. The giant is here
Carter Pope
Footsteps are like words for your feet, but not really. Nobody has footsteps if they’re sky diving. But neither do airplanes. Sometimes i wonder if colors actually do hear. But then i remember that the narwhal does bacon.
Luis T.
i hear this sound closing in. slowly. eerily. closing in on me like a trap door. i can not avoid the thud of the foot steps. closer. closer. my ears decieve me as they are not sounds from feet, but the thud thud of my heart that never skips a beat.
danie:)
suddenly I heard footsteps, they were coming towards me slowly but loudly. I was scared and disorientated, I didn’t know whether to keep walking or run for my life. Who was it? What was it?
Anna
tip toeing in my jawdins, like a creepy kidnapper. i hear something coming up the stairs. thud.thud.thud. is it santa or the boogey man? the door opens and my life is darkened.
scooby doo
she took her footsteps fast and furious down the stairway, flying down as if she was parasailing. there was no stopping her as she approached the landing and continued to rush through the hallway into the kitchen. the noises had stopped now and she slowed down as she came around the kitchen to a complete stop. A few inches away from the stove on the ceramic floor with the stainless steel pot on one side of him, and the pot cover on the other, was igor, her beloved tortoise shell tabby, gazing up at her with a piece of salmon dangling from his mouth.
The footsteps grew closer, the sound only getting louder. Clump…clump…clump…went the steps as they stopped at my door. I tried to hold my breath, hidden underneath my bed, as the door creaked open and there he stood. His dark bloodthirsty eyes stared around the room, as he raised the still-blood dripping machete and called out. “Little pig, little pig…Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Tristan Fether
The footsteps drew closer and closer, and Kelly’s breaths came quicker, the dagger still tight in her grip. Soon whoever it was would round the corner and die.
The ski mask she’d tugged over her ruddy curls felt sticky and scratchy, but she ignored it and focused on her breathing.
The footsteps stopped, and she heard a scream, a young and bone-chilling screech.
What had that been? When she finally gathered the courage to peek around the corner, there was nothing, nothing except small white footprints ending where no doors or windows existed.
i heard them from afar. they sounded impatient and high-heeled. as if an elderly lady were hurrying angrily after another row about her taxes or pension or something of that sort.
i was quite scared when she turned the corner and faced me – she could choose me as the next victim to yell at.
migla
Following in someone’s footsteps is a ridiculous thing to do when you can go in literally any direction you want. Let’s work out a way to walk straight up — that sounds like more fun.
Пам’ятаю, як у школі ми ходили приставним кроком. Пам’ятаю сліди в розмитій дорозі, в які треба було потрапити. У одного друга був крокомір. Один мій крок, напевно, дорівнював метру, але давно і недовго.
I hear footsteps in the hall. Ten million ghosts fluttered.
I hear footsteps in the hall. Ten million hearts shuttered.
Iceman
The footsteps in the hall gre louder. Slowly I crouched down, begging silently for them, whoever they were, to go right past the door. The footsteps stopped. Nothing. No more sound. Not even the creaking of a floorboard.
Rachel
She comes and goes like a ghost — as if the sound of footsteps is one more human luxury she hasn’t been permitted to use.
JD
The footsteps like a metronome
Depressing pace
Head low
And soggy
With the thoughts of a father
Or a forgiver of his past
What path should he follow
Less followed
Or safe
And the memories
They’re left in the imprints
Along the sand
The imprint of your footprints
Still remains,
Buried like the treasures of the dune,
Visible only to those
Who take the time
To expand their sight
From the day to day,
And notice:
One so beautiful as you,
One so lightly treading the sand,
Impacting the earth gently,
Tracing steps that have been
Walked before,
Parallel perpendiculars,
Themselves visible
Only to those
Who take the time
To remember,
One other,
One another.
As the ocean gently
Casts its tendrils about
Your echo,
Implanting your footprints
Into the memory of the earth,
Lips mnemonically turn upright,
Somewhere, tears flow
Downward,
Meeting smiles espoused
From loving memories,
Implanting remembrance
Of all the joys
Of the days spent,
The hours walked,
The eternities passed,
When we strolled along in happy company,
Implanting footprints on the beach.
I could hear you walking towards me, and all I could feel was the fear creeping up my throat, into my mouth and the saliva dried up on my tongue, and I wanted to speak, I wanted to tell you what I felt, that I loved you with every inch of my being, but all I could do was stare.
Bambi
she heard footsteps out side of her bedroom door, she should have been asleep, but her cold bed kept her tossing, and she just wanted to be loved. but there shouldn’t be anyone here. there shouldn’t be anyone outside of her door, so she laid perfectly still. she didn’t hear a struggle, they just let themselves in. but then the familiar scent of him filled her room, and she didn’t stir. her back was still to him, and he wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her close to him and planted a kiss on her shoulder, and she surprised him as she shifted to kiss his nose. “I missed you, my dandelion.”
there are footsteps made of jelly
and footsteps made of steam
we track them listlessly
and forget about blood.
it pounds in the ears
and it beats in the heart,
it’s found us
it’s found us.
we are no longer losing.
when the sycamore tree fell, I thought only of you the emptiness you left between us.
anon
His footsteps echoed around the apartment, his heels rapping against the wooden floor. He had not removed his shoes in the entrance, distracted by what he saw, or didn’t see, in the bedroom at the back of the hall. The closet was empty, the toys gone. The bag that held all their bank books hidden in the bottom drawer lying open on the floor. At first he thought that they had been burgled, but it was too neat for that. No, Michiko had left him, and she had taken the kids!
tonykeyesjapan
Well that seems appropriate. Footsteps. Why is it, that when you have so far to go, and so much to do, going nowhere or doing nothing is the only thing you can do? Maybe putting one foot in front of the next and taking one footstep at a time might be the answer to being overwhelmed by the road ahead. Don’t look too far down the road, just at each step in front. Then after awhile, stop and look back to see how far you have gone.
Footsteps lightly saunter down the dimly lit streets below my bedroom window. Footsteps echo in my head as though they were scarred onto my psyche.
Cassandra
Her footsteps echoed eerily in the abandoned hall, each stride stirring up a cloud of dust that billowed around her. It was cold too, in the hall, the mortar eaten away from between the great stones and the windows bare of either glass or shutter. There was no life here in these forgotten corners; it was an eerie, haunted place, a place for fear to grow. She should not have felt at home there.
But she did.
The footsteps echoed throughout the hallways of the wounded home. She was barefoot and still the sound made was as hostile as those of tap shoes. She hadn’t been there in a while and hadn’t planned the return, yet here she was, anyway, cold and alone.
Our footsteps echoed against the house’s barren walls. We made our way through the skeleton and found ourselves in the backyard. The morning dew was still glistening on each blade of grass. The grand magnolia tree had me in a state of hypnosis. I sprinted towards the wonder. “Babe, be careful!” But I was already on the ground, laughing at my clumsiness. He reached his arms towards me, “Are you o..?” “Look, look!” “What are you talking about?” I turned his body and pointed at our footprints in the ground. He grabbed my hand, our fingers intertwining, and he smiled. Our eyes locked and thats when we knew. This, this was home. These were our first steps towards our new life.
I carefully placed my feet in the contours of sand. I wondered at the glazed, metallic footprints, and I felt my chest expand. This was where he had last placed his steps. This was where he had last been human. The sun dotted my vision until I was overwhelmed by the black of the mouth of the cavern.
My stomach wrung itself out like a towel as I left the sandy bronzed footprints and felt the cold cloudy rock on my bare feet. I felt my vision go dark as I left the light behind me. The sun watched me; it gently tapped on my shoulder, hoping for me to return to its embrace, but the stone grounded my feet, and I headed onward.
There he stood, with his arms encircled around the ghost figure of someone long lost. I stepped into his arms and filled in the negative space in between his upper lip and the tip of his nose, behind his bent knee, around his elbow, and behind his ear.
Almost to slow for me to bear, the bronze drained from his cheeks into my outstretched hand. All at once, the ground disappeared and he stood at the mouth of the cave. I felt cold.
He did not turn back, but I heard his voice. “I will find you a savior,” he said. “You will not be the last.”
And then I felt my knees stiffen, saw my fingers turning bronze, tasted metal, and felt a cold weight drop on my mind.
the footsteps were light, a barely discernible sound over the pitter-patter of rain falling on the sidewalk. heart pounding, she pulled her jacket tightly around her body, quickening her pace. the footsteps quickened with her.
hmm, the twinkling of toes down the stairs let me know you were coming. soft like rabbit’s feet, socks muffling the tripping of your ankles against each other. i smiled like rising. i could feel you warming up. you pounced, and we were all arms, all tangles, octopus lovers trying our best to laugh with the confusion. we tumble, and i am happy.
This word reminds me of Jesus Christ. Throughout my life, I’ve been trying to follow His footsteps and show kindness to others.
I heard footsteps in the house and that’s why I’m up at 3 AM. They were getting closer and closer. The first thing that came to my mind was to get up and run and never stop.
doneee
done
they are how you walk. some footsteps can be loud some can be quiet. my footsteps are usually loud.
I don’t know what should I tell you about that. I’m not supposed to think, but I can’t. I think about sand, and you and us walking together like nothing bad can happen anymore and all my past becomes present and I’ve nowhere to go so I guess I shoud stay.
hearing footsteps while in the darkness of your room is pure
My footsteps bring all the boys to the yard.
Footsteps walking through the sand. Never ending. Wandering endlessly
The fun thing about being a parent is that it is not scary when I hear footsteps running down the hall to my room in the middle of the night. Well a different kind of scary at least. Actually when I hear footsteps I usually just try to crawl under the covers and hope that the kids can’t fine me.
Fi Fi(?) fo fum. Rumbling footsteps. The giant is here
Footsteps are like words for your feet, but not really. Nobody has footsteps if they’re sky diving. But neither do airplanes. Sometimes i wonder if colors actually do hear. But then i remember that the narwhal does bacon.
i hear this sound closing in. slowly. eerily. closing in on me like a trap door. i can not avoid the thud of the foot steps. closer. closer. my ears decieve me as they are not sounds from feet, but the thud thud of my heart that never skips a beat.
suddenly I heard footsteps, they were coming towards me slowly but loudly. I was scared and disorientated, I didn’t know whether to keep walking or run for my life. Who was it? What was it?
tip toeing in my jawdins, like a creepy kidnapper. i hear something coming up the stairs. thud.thud.thud. is it santa or the boogey man? the door opens and my life is darkened.
she took her footsteps fast and furious down the stairway, flying down as if she was parasailing. there was no stopping her as she approached the landing and continued to rush through the hallway into the kitchen. the noises had stopped now and she slowed down as she came around the kitchen to a complete stop. A few inches away from the stove on the ceramic floor with the stainless steel pot on one side of him, and the pot cover on the other, was igor, her beloved tortoise shell tabby, gazing up at her with a piece of salmon dangling from his mouth.
The footsteps grew closer, the sound only getting louder. Clump…clump…clump…went the steps as they stopped at my door. I tried to hold my breath, hidden underneath my bed, as the door creaked open and there he stood. His dark bloodthirsty eyes stared around the room, as he raised the still-blood dripping machete and called out. “Little pig, little pig…Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
The footsteps drew closer and closer, and Kelly’s breaths came quicker, the dagger still tight in her grip. Soon whoever it was would round the corner and die.
The ski mask she’d tugged over her ruddy curls felt sticky and scratchy, but she ignored it and focused on her breathing.
The footsteps stopped, and she heard a scream, a young and bone-chilling screech.
What had that been? When she finally gathered the courage to peek around the corner, there was nothing, nothing except small white footprints ending where no doors or windows existed.
i heard them from afar. they sounded impatient and high-heeled. as if an elderly lady were hurrying angrily after another row about her taxes or pension or something of that sort.
i was quite scared when she turned the corner and faced me – she could choose me as the next victim to yell at.
Following in someone’s footsteps is a ridiculous thing to do when you can go in literally any direction you want. Let’s work out a way to walk straight up — that sounds like more fun.
Пам’ятаю, як у школі ми ходили приставним кроком. Пам’ятаю сліди в розмитій дорозі, в які треба було потрапити. У одного друга був крокомір. Один мій крок, напевно, дорівнював метру, але давно і недовго.
I hear footsteps in the hall. Ten million ghosts fluttered.
I hear footsteps in the hall. Ten million hearts shuttered.
The footsteps in the hall gre louder. Slowly I crouched down, begging silently for them, whoever they were, to go right past the door. The footsteps stopped. Nothing. No more sound. Not even the creaking of a floorboard.
She comes and goes like a ghost — as if the sound of footsteps is one more human luxury she hasn’t been permitted to use.
The footsteps like a metronome
Depressing pace
Head low
And soggy
With the thoughts of a father
Or a forgiver of his past
What path should he follow
Less followed
Or safe
And the memories
They’re left in the imprints
two paths diverged in a yellow wood and I
I stirred the pot a little too frivolously
doushioooooo
Along the sand
The imprint of your footprints
Still remains,
Buried like the treasures of the dune,
Visible only to those
Who take the time
To expand their sight
From the day to day,
And notice:
One so beautiful as you,
One so lightly treading the sand,
Impacting the earth gently,
Tracing steps that have been
Walked before,
Parallel perpendiculars,
Themselves visible
Only to those
Who take the time
To remember,
One other,
One another.
As the ocean gently
Casts its tendrils about
Your echo,
Implanting your footprints
Into the memory of the earth,
Lips mnemonically turn upright,
Somewhere, tears flow
Downward,
Meeting smiles espoused
From loving memories,
Implanting remembrance
Of all the joys
Of the days spent,
The hours walked,
The eternities passed,
When we strolled along in happy company,
Implanting footprints on the beach.
I could hear you walking towards me, and all I could feel was the fear creeping up my throat, into my mouth and the saliva dried up on my tongue, and I wanted to speak, I wanted to tell you what I felt, that I loved you with every inch of my being, but all I could do was stare.
she heard footsteps out side of her bedroom door, she should have been asleep, but her cold bed kept her tossing, and she just wanted to be loved. but there shouldn’t be anyone here. there shouldn’t be anyone outside of her door, so she laid perfectly still. she didn’t hear a struggle, they just let themselves in. but then the familiar scent of him filled her room, and she didn’t stir. her back was still to him, and he wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her close to him and planted a kiss on her shoulder, and she surprised him as she shifted to kiss his nose. “I missed you, my dandelion.”
there are footsteps made of jelly
and footsteps made of steam
we track them listlessly
and forget about blood.
it pounds in the ears
and it beats in the heart,
it’s found us
it’s found us.
we are no longer losing.
when the sycamore tree fell, I thought only of you the emptiness you left between us.
His footsteps echoed around the apartment, his heels rapping against the wooden floor. He had not removed his shoes in the entrance, distracted by what he saw, or didn’t see, in the bedroom at the back of the hall. The closet was empty, the toys gone. The bag that held all their bank books hidden in the bottom drawer lying open on the floor. At first he thought that they had been burgled, but it was too neat for that. No, Michiko had left him, and she had taken the kids!
Well that seems appropriate. Footsteps. Why is it, that when you have so far to go, and so much to do, going nowhere or doing nothing is the only thing you can do? Maybe putting one foot in front of the next and taking one footstep at a time might be the answer to being overwhelmed by the road ahead. Don’t look too far down the road, just at each step in front. Then after awhile, stop and look back to see how far you have gone.
Footsteps lightly saunter down the dimly lit streets below my bedroom window. Footsteps echo in my head as though they were scarred onto my psyche.
Her footsteps echoed eerily in the abandoned hall, each stride stirring up a cloud of dust that billowed around her. It was cold too, in the hall, the mortar eaten away from between the great stones and the windows bare of either glass or shutter. There was no life here in these forgotten corners; it was an eerie, haunted place, a place for fear to grow. She should not have felt at home there.
But she did.
The footsteps echoed throughout the hallways of the wounded home. She was barefoot and still the sound made was as hostile as those of tap shoes. She hadn’t been there in a while and hadn’t planned the return, yet here she was, anyway, cold and alone.
Our footsteps echoed against the house’s barren walls. We made our way through the skeleton and found ourselves in the backyard. The morning dew was still glistening on each blade of grass. The grand magnolia tree had me in a state of hypnosis. I sprinted towards the wonder. “Babe, be careful!” But I was already on the ground, laughing at my clumsiness. He reached his arms towards me, “Are you o..?” “Look, look!” “What are you talking about?” I turned his body and pointed at our footprints in the ground. He grabbed my hand, our fingers intertwining, and he smiled. Our eyes locked and thats when we knew. This, this was home. These were our first steps towards our new life.
I carefully placed my feet in the contours of sand. I wondered at the glazed, metallic footprints, and I felt my chest expand. This was where he had last placed his steps. This was where he had last been human. The sun dotted my vision until I was overwhelmed by the black of the mouth of the cavern.
My stomach wrung itself out like a towel as I left the sandy bronzed footprints and felt the cold cloudy rock on my bare feet. I felt my vision go dark as I left the light behind me. The sun watched me; it gently tapped on my shoulder, hoping for me to return to its embrace, but the stone grounded my feet, and I headed onward.
There he stood, with his arms encircled around the ghost figure of someone long lost. I stepped into his arms and filled in the negative space in between his upper lip and the tip of his nose, behind his bent knee, around his elbow, and behind his ear.
Almost to slow for me to bear, the bronze drained from his cheeks into my outstretched hand. All at once, the ground disappeared and he stood at the mouth of the cave. I felt cold.
He did not turn back, but I heard his voice. “I will find you a savior,” he said. “You will not be the last.”
And then I felt my knees stiffen, saw my fingers turning bronze, tasted metal, and felt a cold weight drop on my mind.
I closed my eyes.
the footsteps were light, a barely discernible sound over the pitter-patter of rain falling on the sidewalk. heart pounding, she pulled her jacket tightly around her body, quickening her pace. the footsteps quickened with her.
hmm, the twinkling of toes down the stairs let me know you were coming. soft like rabbit’s feet, socks muffling the tripping of your ankles against each other. i smiled like rising. i could feel you warming up. you pounced, and we were all arms, all tangles, octopus lovers trying our best to laugh with the confusion. we tumble, and i am happy.