One of the three winning Storytellers voted for by the audience at the First Flash Fiction Portrush Event
(held in Portrush, Northern Ireland, on Friday 21st, March, 2025)
Heidi Edmundson was born and grew up in Portrush. As a child she was an avid reader and particularly loved fairytales, myths and legends. She also developed a love of detective stories especially Nancy Drew. Her love of reading became a love of writing and she wanted to be a writer when she grew up. She studied medicine at Dundee University and has worked as a doctor for the NHS ever since. She is currently an Emergency Medicine consultant in London. However, she never forgot her love of writing and in 2011 joined a weekly writing group. She initially only wrote for fun and never intended anyone else to read her work. However, during the COVID pandemic she developed a daily writing practice to help her manage the stress. What she, initially, thought was going to be a short story ended up as a novel. Although she is currently based in London her heart firmly belongs in the North Coast. In 2023 after a significant operation, she came back home for six months to heal. She did this by writing and walking on the beach every day. Her debut novel ‘Darkness in the City of Light’ was published in February by Constellations Press. It is a classic Whodunnit set in a fantastical city which was inspired by Portrush and Venice with a little bit of the Regents Canal thrown in.
A Fairytale of Sorts
‘Fairytales are, at their heart, stories of transformation, transformation and shoes.’
I can’t remember where I read that or why it popped into my head that morning, as I walked, no limped, to the supermarket.
I’d never been a high-heels type of girl but when I saw the shoes in the shop window, they were so beautiful, they took my breath away. All silvery strands and crystal beads. A fantastical re-imagining of Cinderella’s glass slippers. As I paid for them, I hoped that, if I wore them, I would be transformed, imbued with that kind of beauty , the kind that takes your breath away.
I read an article called ‘How to Walk in Heels’ written by a woman who could, no doubt, not just walk in them but dance and run as well. She suggested wearing them in, in the house. Then going to the supermarket to practice gliding up and down the aisles.
Every step was agony. The silvery strands sliced into my swollen feet like cheese wire and the beads rubbed painfully against my blistering skin. I’d heard stories of models who cut off their little toes, ugly sister style to fit into certain footwear. At this rate the shoes would soon amputate mine for me.
When I got to the supermarket I grabbed a trolley, not that I needed it, I just wanted something to cling onto.
I got as for as the canned food and had to stop. I had broken out in a sweat and thought that I was going to faint. I felt hobbled like one of those Chinese women who have their feet bound. That’s all high heels are, a form of foot binding. I was like the little mermaid condemned forever to feel as if I was walking on broken glass. I used to find that story tragically beautiful, now I just found it tragic. That little mermaid was a fool she should have kept her fishy tail and enjoyed swimming in the depths with the other sea creatures.
Crab, that’s what I’d get myself some crab, but someone had put the tins up high out of reach. I tried standing on tiptoes, like a ballerina, another group of women with mangled feet.
Suddenly I was aware of someone sniggering, a tall youth, stacking shelves. He must have put the tins up there; well he could just get one down again.
“Excuse me “
He sauntered towards me practically floating on the cushioned soles of his massive trainers.
“Could you reach me down a tin of crab, please, chunks not the shredded stuff.”
He smirked “You know what you need luv” he said “higher heels.”
Well, something inside me snapped. Maybe it was his use of the word luv, maybe it was the suggestion that what I needed in my life was more foot-based agony. I felt myself grow in stature and it had nothing to do with the shoes. I was an Amazon, a Valkyrie, a warrior queen. I raised my foot and slammed it down, hard, on top of his.
“Mmmmm” I said “Are the heels high enough for you now, luv” as he whimpered in pain.
I ground my foot down viciously. What’s that thing; a woman in heels can do more damage to a wooden floor than an elephant. And damage is exactly what I wanted to do, I wanted to snap sinew, crack through bone, draw blood.
And I think I could have done but an urgent voice coming through the Tannoy “Security to the tinned fish, security to the tinned fish.”
Will I ever be able to dance in heels. Maybe but I doubt it. I can’t really dance in flats. But then again, I have learnt that, at the heart of all humans, lies an infinite capacity to change. We all have the potential to surprise ourselves every now and then. And I should know, for that morning I became something that previously I could scarcely have believed possible, I became a woman who could run in heels. And let me tell you that once I got going, I could move fucking fast.
impspired 