FEB 20, 2025 | FEATURES | By Anya Jones
In September, I wrote about the mysterious appearance of a pair of Skechers on our front “lawn.” A quick refresher for those of you who are new here: One day, a pair of grandpa-style Skechers appeared at the front of our home in a clear plastic bag, remaining untouched and unmoved for several weeks. The article ended like this: “It will be an interesting experiment. Will they weather time, space and the elements? Will Geoff [the speculated but hypothetical owner of the Skechers] delicately take them back? Perhaps they were a gift of goodwill. Or maybe Geoff did see something he really should not have.” Well, upon my return from my delightful Block Break trip, I walked up to a house that was missing a pair of Skechers shoes.
At first, this was all a lighthearted mystery. Where did these shoes come from? How long they will stay here? I never imagined they would go undisturbed for five months. I had grown accustomed to their presence. Greeted by them upon my arrival home. They had become part of the regular scenery, a staple of home decor. So you can imagine my surprise – nay, alarm – when I returned to find them completely missing.
Even more ominous, perhaps, was how the clear plastic bag the Skechers arrived in was left behind with a rock carefully placed on top to keep it from flying off in the wind. With time, the shoes had been slightly separated from one another: one shoe exited the bag while the other stayed concealed within. I tell you this to explain that, for these shoes to have been removed, it would have required reaching into the bag, using opposable appendages to latch on and considerable dexterity to maneuver it out. In other words, it was likely not a raccoon or other commonplace animal that took these shoes away and placed a rock on top of the clear plastic bag.
The mysterious disappearance of the Skechers occurred sometime during Block Break, discovered then confirmed on Sunday. But on Monday, a text message changed everything.
My housemates sat casually around our newly-fixed dinner table, eating lunch and discussing who, of note, was in our respective classes. We sat there exchanging anecdotes until we heard the familiar vibration of a text alert. It was a text to our house group chat from one of our residents. She was outside. The text read, “These are on the side of the house??” The text accompanied a picture. A picture of a pair of shoes.
Adidas. Old, worn, with the soles removed from the insides. They looked like the kind of Adidas you might find at the Goodwill bins; if styled with some straight-leg, baggy jeans and one of those hoodies that ends right at the waist but has billowy sleeves, then these shoes might look appealing. But here, tucked away on the side of a college girl’s house, they do not look appealing. They look rather terrifying.
Our first thought was that we were being pranked. Our neighbors have been known, on occasion, to chuck water balloons or other miscellaneous items over our fence for a quick laugh. Back in Sept., when the shoes first appeared, they invited a curious interest. Amused but not suspiciously so. Given this, it would not be beyond the statute of limitations for them to place an old pair of Adidas on the side of our house that is opposite theirs and sit at their window to watch our frenzied reaction. I too would find this entertaining and adorable. For that, I am inclined to believe this is likely.
But without any confirmation of such a prank, I am forced to explore all possibilities. As we convened at our dinner table once again to assess the facts, one housemate looked up at a pair of shoes by a house signal. The Google search was clear. Criminal activity. Sometimes marking a home for possible burglary, sometimes marking gang territory. Because I’m a pragmatist at heart, I will place these possibilities in the ‘likely not’ category.
Another possibility, however outrageous, is an unwelcome ninth roommate. A squatter. A house of this size and magnitude warrants a second entrance to the house, equipped with a covered and relatively private staircase. One we do not use and have never thought to check on. One on the same side as the new Adidas shoes. Who is to say we haven’t had a visitor or two make themselves feel temporarily at home in this unseen and unmonitored stairwell? You may be wondering about the efficacy of this theory. If we have a squatter, why would they remove their shoes and leave them for us to find? I’m wondering the same thing. For that reason, I’m inclined to also classify this theory as ‘likely not.’
Back in September, I ruminated on the possibility that a burnt-out tax auditor, Geoff, got involved in the finances of the wrong people and faced the consequences of mafia-style crime. Perhaps something similar has occurred here. Some guy, age thirty-four named Brandon, was at the wrong place at the wrong time. His clothes were disposed of in odd increments to avoid suspicion. His shoes ended up here. Who is really to say? The timing of the disappearance of the Skechers and the odd introduction of the Adidas is too coincidental to be coincidental. The architect of the coincidence? Well, they remain a mystery. One thing I will say, I really miss those Skechers.