Little Boots

Little Boy's foor in Roman boot, for Caligula short story.

Little Boy's foor in Roman boot, for Caligula short story.

Little Boots


Rico Lamoureux


All Rights Reserved


The Mediterranean breeze, laced in salt and relatively calm this time of year blew over the Italian coastal community of Antium, leaving behind it a briny tang across the lips of a young boy who only recently developed the youthful skill of running all about. And just in time, for the active little one was tailored into a pair of boots just his size, the dirt streets later to be known as ancient Rome his playground to explore, indulge, absorb, none more so than the admiration he’d receive from total strangers. From men of God, men of war, women of both wealth and poverty, all unable to help themselves from showering the charming little boy in his adorable footwear with admiration and praise, thus his nickname becoming Little Boots.

While trekking along the streets with stick in hand Little Boots came upon an old woman the likes of which he had never encountered before, her eyes clouded over like a raging storm within, preventing her from actually looking down into his own with the affection he was used to receiving. In fact this elder seemed to have no fondness for him at all, sensing him standing there and starting to feel somewhat repulsed by the small enchanter.

Picking up on such aversion Little Boots whispered something so low that even he could not hear it pass over the lightly salted coating atop his lips. The woman bent down and asked him to repeat what he had uttered, ready to grab hold of the child if he were to say something unruly.

With those hideous unfocused eyes now mere inches from his own and staring out with such intent Little Boots tightened the grip he had around his stick and this time said the word Heathen, with perfect clarity, the pointed edge of his stick firing up into one of those grotesque eyeballs before the old woman had a chance to grab out for him.

Through the excruciating pain…

Through the mixture of eye fluid and blood which erupted from her socket, a few drops of which spattered down upon Little Boot’s lips, the taste of which was more acute in its saline flavor than the sea’s breeze, much like alkaline, of iron. Much to his delight.

Through her shocked screams she saw with such vivid detail the boy’s future actions.

Shedding the blood of friends…


Innocent lives.

Flaying a singer alive while complimenting him on his melodious wails.

So much blood, suffering, loss of life for the pure purpose of sadistic amusement,

Through all this the old blind woman shrieked for all to hear, as a forewarning, His nickname Little Boots, in Latin. The name by which the world would forever know him by…


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