[HR]The Giants
My family and I lived in a big, rustic, two story home in the woods. It had a beautiful view of the mountainside; trees and rocks as far as the eye could see. There were giants. Three local ones. They were known to eat people, and there was nothing in this world that we could do to stop them. They chose who they wanted to eat, and we just had to say goodbye.
The giants were huge. The largest one was basically the “boss.” It seemed to be in charge. It was as tall as a pine tree. It looked exactly like you or me, but it was teal. The two other giants were twins, about half the size of the larger one, and they were lavender. They were all women. The shorter ones were identical and chubbier while the larger one seemed unrelated- taller, skinnier, and with a narrower, longer face shape. They wore regular modern clothing, but dingey and dirty. The giants were disgusting creatures, in appearance and on the inside as well.
There were general "guidelines" surrounding what happened when you or a loved one was chosen to be eaten. The large one was the one who got to choose who was eaten. When you were chosen to be eaten, you’d have one day to get your affairs in order, say your goodbyes, and you would be eaten at around 8:30 PM after you’d had your day. If you were chosen to be eaten, there was nothing you could do about it. They craved your DNA. The only thing that would prevent you from being eaten would be if an older relative volunteered to take your place and sacrificed themselves to the giants to be eaten instead. When you were waiting to be eaten, you were not to become naked at any time. Not to change your clothes, swim, or shower. This would make the smaller giants go insane with excitement. They could sense your nudity and, as a pair, come to you immediately to shred you apart alive and eat you together, before your full 24 hours were had. Everyone knew that this was the worst way to go, and they would choose to have their full day, not change their clothes, and have the larger one be the one to eat them later in the night. The final “rule” was basically that the giants can smell, or sense, you wherever you were. You could travel as far away as you wanted, and they would follow you. You couldn’t run. When 8:30 comes along, you’re just a goner. There’s just no way around it.
I remember when the giants chose to eat my two young children. I’ve never been so devastated. Like everyone else, they would get their full day before being eaten, but obviously it took me no time at all to decide that I would let the giants have me instead. There were a lot of feelings that came with that. I was terrified. Obviously, being eaten alive would be the most painful feeling PHYSICALLY and most helpless, truly, I had ever been. I was sad. Imagining my kids’ long future ahead of them; All of the milestones I would miss. I cried quietly to myself so as to not scare them. I didn’t want them to know what was going on. I grieved my own short life. I felt robbed, yet I knew this was the only option. I also felt relieved that I could protect them in that way. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I just hoped they would know in the future that I loved them more than life itself, and that I was more than happy to do this for them. I hoped they did great things and kept each other safe and loved in my absence.
I had to say goodbye to my family. I called them all together to my house so that I could explain what was happening. My siblings were pitted- like a piece of each of them was dying. My usually-stoic-and-unreadable father had the most pitiful eyes. The pain in them was so clear, true, and soul-crushing, I could hardly look at him. He was empty. Just a shell. He looked around the room for a minute or two with that glazed-over, sorrowful look and suddenly broke the depressing silence and crying with the announcement that he would be taking my place instead. I told him not to do this, but it was obvious he had felt about this how I felt about taking my sons’ places; There was no convincing him otherwise. It was decided. We all cried together.
The giants could sense when a decision was being made and they came immediately to see what it was that we decided. They heard us out and were happy to eat my dad instead. Like totally heartless sociopaths. And considering how late it was when the decision was made, the giants allowed him a whole, new, 24-hours. At least they would grant us that.
Our family wanted to spend every second of that time together with him. We made the most of our time together. Or tried to. How do you live the rest of your life in 24 hours? How do you make sure that in someone’s last hours they feel loved? How can you show someone how much their sacrifices meant to you, in this case, without sitting around feeling bad for yourself and ruining the happy feeling we were trying to muster up? How were we supposed to make sure his last day wasn’t just full of despair?
He told us that he appreciated his time with us, and that it meant everything to him, but that before the giants came, he wanted to have traveled to Alaska to cross something off of his bucket list. Alone. I could tell that much of this feeling was him having mercy on us, even though he was the real victim in this. He didn’t want us to hear him scream and cry in agony while being snatched up and eaten. He especially didn’t want us to SEE it happen. At least if he was far, FAR away, we could wonder if it was possible that he somehow found a cave to hide and live in, and we could pretend that he could have survived secretly somewhere. We all respected his wishes. After eating out together, doing some activities, and seeing some local sights, as he wished, it was time for him to take off to his final destination. He was to give us a final goodbye. His parting words to each of us, our last hugs from him, his last kisses. Then he would get into his truck and drive away for the last time.