My little shoe maker

In the city of Lyon, in France, stood a small business called Cordonnerie wich means shoe shop in French. It was run by a man named Mr Botte. To the right stood a wooden, arched door with a golden door knob.

A fine woman with a yellow mustardy coloured dress walked up to the store’s window.  She was tall and had light yellow, tiny bow.

Then a menacing without warning vehicle flung  the door. A staff came out pointing right at me then a tall, skinny man came out of the door. He pointed the staff at me then the van hitting a button which made all of his shoes come out the woman walked over to my now to be competitor and bought a pair of his shoes.

That night he sadly sat at his desk trying to make better shoes than the guy who lived in the van. In the morning  Mr Botte got a bell and was lowering the price every day.

One night the competitor slipped a contract which was offering if he could buy his business. Mr Botte was about to sign it when all his shoes made up a plan. They spent all night creating it but in the morning it was ready. Mr botte was sent out to the man with a pair of golden shoes and the signed contract. The man looked at the contract and then took the shoes. The shoes were so beautiful he rushed to put them on then shoes just ran away with him in them.