Shoe

Sometime in the 1700s I trod these floorboards and lost a shoe. It fell through a crack quite suddenly as my servants looked in from the outside. Well, they went back to giving life to trees and picking fruit, but a minute later I fell through the crack myself. Unbeknown to me, the trusty left shoe (with a slightly off blue hue) doubled as a time machine with a gravity system perfectly aligned with me. What were the chances?

Today, I preside as a ghost over an exhibit of found items from under the floorboards, now helplessly trapped in an empty rectangular goldfish bowl of death. To the right of the shoe, amused (or are they perplexed?) guests of the house glance towards a battered shoe imprisoned by Perspex. Before them stands a selection of pens and some paper, each imploring the gooning clan to come up with creative ways - for a prize - to describe how the shoe came to fall beneath the floorboards in 183 words or less. I look forward to reading the results. I suspect the truth will never out.