View Full Version : short story: Giants

Angry Mandrill
22nd November 10, 02:43 PM
He was hungry.

He looked around warily. He could smell something. The faint odor of food drifted to his hiding place in the basement of the building. It cut through the scent of dust and filth and death like an arrow into his brain. He shivered. It had been days since he had eaten.

He shook himself and started to move around, loosening up. Sleeping on the floor in a freezing basement under random refuse has a way of leaving you stiff. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light as he crawled out from his shelter. He looked around quickly. There was no visible reason for alarm. Nothing looked out of place. He started toward the stairs, ears pricked, listening intently for any movement on the floor above his head. Nothing.

He crept up the stairs. To him it seemed like his steps – making a sound barely perceptible, even to the most attentive ear – were deafeningly loud. He crabbed and scraped his way to the top. The door at the top of the stairwell was open just a crack. He peered through it into the gloomy room, holding his breath, his heart pounding in his ears, every hair standing. Two minutes – breathe! Ten more, holding almost perfectly still, taking shallow, hesitant sips of air. There wasn’t a sound.

Not that the giants could be quiet. Even while actively hunting him and others like him, they thundered through their buildings, making enough noise to frighten away anyone within what could be miles. Stealth was not their way; brute force and merciless savagery were their only tools.

His mind wandered back to his last encounter with a giant. Like most of his kind, he spent his summers out in the forest, using makeshift shelters and foraging for food. Living outdoors was difficult, but the giants didn’t wander much into the forest; those who did couldn’t be bothered hunting them. Winter meant terrible snows, sometimes piling up many times higher than his head, and harsh cold, driving them into the giants’ cities. In the cities, they might die at the hands of the giants, but wintering in the woods meant a certain, lingering death.

He had been searching for food, as usual, when he stumbled across a very large container of some kind. It was far too large for him to move without help. He looked around, not wanting to abandon his find without first knowing what was inside. With his hunger gnawing at him, he began to tear into the container, pulling and straining with all his strength. He could smell food now through the small breach in the outer covering, and it made him almost frantic.

A tree crashed to the ground beside him with a deafening roar, just missing him. He ran without looking up or looking back, immediately understanding that he had allowed a giant – who virtually could not move with stealth – to sneak up on him. He sprinted as fast as he could, turning at random, mind cringing, fear roaring in his ears, expecting the death blow. More trees fell around him. He could hear and feel the steps of the giant thundering along the ground behind him. His lungs burned as his brain screamed in raw fear; his legs, knowing their job, reacted of their own accord. He never noticed exactly when the thunder behind him stopped; he slowed his pace, but kept moving, crying from fear and his relief that the giant had lost interest.

Yeah, well, he thought to himself, they don’t lose interest when you’re hiding in their buildings. Getting caught off guard, the way he had in the woods, would mean a horrible death. Standing here daydreaming was just as good of a way to get caught off guard, he reminded himself. Time to move.

He slipped through the doorway slowly, eyes darting, and hurried over to find cover behind a large piece of equipment. He could smell food, and moved carefully, trying to figure out the direction to the source of the smell. He moved along warily, remaining in shadows behind random objects and structures, the purpose of which he could not understand. Not that he cared. In another life, perhaps, curiosity about the world would find an outlet or purpose, but in this one, in the here and now, survival was the only course his mind could be permitted to run.

He came to another stairway, this one leading up. It was very dark. The mix of odors here was overpowering. Garbage littered the area; the smell of decomposition was almost blinding. The scent of food was almost lost in the stench, but drew him steadily upward. He had to climb over piles of garbage to keep moving, and when he did so he moved very slowly so as not to make a sound in the shifting refuse. Carefully, he made his way to the top. He breathed a small sigh of relief, his fear receding. He looked around, hoping to find something to take back to his hiding place to feed on for a couple of days.

The floor shifted nauseatingly, as if the entire building was on rollers. He lost his balance and fell. A bright light flooded the piles of garbage around him. He looked up just in time to see a huge, heavy object crashing down onto him. Blackness clouded his mind as his legs, short-circuited, twitched and jumped in a vain attempt to carry him away from danger.

“Honey, we got mice again.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah, I just killed another one in our trash.”

The man picked up the dying mouse, its legs still twitching, by its tail. He hated mice. The dirty, nasty creatures shit all over everything. He carried it by the tail into the bathroom and dropped it into the toilet. Looking at it for a few long seconds, the man tried to feel sorry for it, but couldn’t. He lifted the toilet seat, unzipped his fly and urinated, pushing the mouse around in the water. Pressing the handle, the man waved as the mouse circled the bowl and disappeared from view.

22nd November 10, 03:16 PM
That sucked.


Spade: The Real Snake
22nd November 10, 03:20 PM
Wasn't this a Bugs Bunny cartoon?

22nd November 10, 03:23 PM
Ratatouille (with mice)?

Angry Mandrill
22nd November 10, 03:24 PM
tom and jerry, fools

22nd November 10, 03:26 PM
There's no cat in this!

Angry Mandrill
22nd November 10, 03:31 PM
sez yoo. it's my fucking story, and i say there's a cat in it!

22nd November 10, 03:35 PM
We've just come to expect much better from you. I'd claim it was ghost written because it's the worst entry in the competition.

Angry Mandrill
22nd November 10, 03:42 PM
We've just come to expect much better from you.

that's dumb. why would you do that? and who's we?

oh, look. 1001 posts. time to find somewhere else to play. i've spent too much time here, obviously, if people have expectations.

22nd November 10, 03:51 PM
After 1,000 posts you would still believe me? You have bigger problems.

Now can you write a BOIHOLe parody plz?

Fairy XXXmas
22nd November 10, 09:33 PM
Lilzy is teh wright. WRITE BOIHOLE PARODEE

Spade: The Real Snake
22nd November 10, 09:46 PM
helmuts life is like a BOIHOLE parody

Fairy XXXmas
22nd November 10, 10:01 PM
helmuts life is like a BOIHOLE parody

BOIHOLEs sex life is like a helmut parody

Spade: The Real Snake
22nd November 10, 10:09 PM
as I have a woman, you are likely right.

Fairy XXXmas
22nd November 10, 10:14 PM
as I have a woman, you are likely right.