Gentle Giantess: Small, Safe, and held

The world shuddered. Not with an earthquake, but with the footfall of a god or a goddess. From my vantage point on what was once the roof of a parking garage, I watched as she stepped over the skyline, her form blotting out the midday sun. She was impossibly tall, her legs like smoothly polished marble pillars supporting a torso that scraped the clouds. This was sky.

A shadow colder than any night fell over me, and the air grew still and heavy. I could see the individual scuffs on the sole of her bare foot as it descended towards the city block adjacent to mine. There was no malice in the movement, only casual, cataclysmic indifference.

The foot landed with a sound that was less a crash and more a deep, grinding thud of finality. Brick, glass, and steel compacted into a cloud of dust that billowed outwards, peppering my skin with fine grit. Car alarms, tinny and frantic from this distance, wailed a chorus of protest that she seemed utterly deaf to from how ginormous she was.

Then, her hand descended like a cover. Fingers, each longer than a city bus, curled through the dust cloud. They bypassed the ruins, instead gently closing around the structure I stood upon. The world lurched and wobbled as the entire garage was plucked from the ground, foundations screaming as they tore free with the screech of metal and material. I tumbled around, grabbing for rebar as the sky and ground swapped places.

When the motion stopped, I was cradled in the immense valley of her palm. The lines on her skin were like weathered canyon floors, the scent of her clean soap, sunshine, was overwhelming. Her face loomed above, a beautiful, impossible landscape. Her eyes, vast lakes of intelligent amber, crinkled at the corners.

“There you are,” her voice rumbled, a melodic avalanche that vibrated through my entire body. “I’ve been looking for my little lucky charm.”

Her other hand came up, the tip of her index finger, broad and smooth, gently booping me onto my back. I slid a little on the warm skin of her palm. She laughed, and the sound was like distant, pleasant thunder. “Feisty today, aren’t we?”

Before I could even process a thought, her fingers carefully plucked me up again. The world became a blur of blue sky and her immense features. Then, I was set down not on her palm, but on the solid, warm plane of her collarbone. I stumbled, my hands splaying against her skin. It was surprisingly soft, warm as sun-baked stone, and I could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of her pulse deep beneath the surface, a slow, tectonic drum.

“Hold on,” she whispered, her breath washing over me like a warm, gentle gale.

She began to walk. From my new perch, the destruction was both panoramic and surreal. With each casual step, buildings that had stood for decades were reduced to rubble under her feet like they were nothing. A row of townhouses vanished beneath her heel. An overpass snapped like a dry twig as her shin brushed against it. Below, toy-like cars scrambled in panic, their horns meaningless squeaks. She wasn’t trying to cause havoc; she simply existed, and the world was too fragile to bear it.

She tilted her head, looking down at the city sprawl, and the motion made me slide. I cried out, scrambling for purchase as I slid down the gentle slope of her shoulder towards the cliff of her arm. A finger, as big as a subway car, instantly curled up, forming a protective barrier that stopped my fall. She lifted me back to the safety of her collarbone with a tender carefulness that contrasted wildly with the apocalypse happening at ground level.

“Oops, sorry,” she murmured, a smile playing on her lips. She seemed delighted by my adventure. “You’re so fun to watch move around.”

She reached down with her free hand, plucking a semi-truck from the highway as easily as I might pluck a berry. She brought it up to her face, examining the tiny, screaming driver within before setting it gently, for her on a nearby, still-intact skyscraper roof. “There. Safe.”

Her attention returned to me. She lifted a hand, and for a terrifying moment, I thought she would crush me. Instead, she used the very edge of her fingernail to gently stroke my back. The sensation was enormous, smooth, and oddly soothing. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’re so small,” she mused, her voice a low hum that resonated in my bones. “So perfectly, fascinatingly small. My own little treasure.”

She leaned down, and her face filled the entire sky. Her lips, the size of small hills, pursed thoughtfully. Then, she closed her eyes and blew a soft, careful stream of air over me that made my hair move back. It tousled my hair and clothes as they swayed backwards, a personal, intimate hurricane. When she opened her eyes, they were gleaming with playful affection.

“I think I’ll keep you right here,” she decided, her fingertip tracing a slow, possessive circle on the skin beside me on her mountainous palm. In the distance, a water tower collapsed under her careless elbow. She didn’t even notice that it happened like it was and afterthought. All her world spanning attention was focused on the tiny man on her palm. “It’s a much better view, don’t you think?”

She straightened, and I was carried higher into the sky, a king on the most destructive throne imaginable. Below, the city was a broken toy. Around me, the scent and warmth of her were the only constants. She began to hum, the vibration a deep resolution that filled me from my feet flat on her palm to my hear, and she started walking again, leaving a new path of casual ruin in her wake, her little man safely nestled on her skin.

Giantess sky
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