There it was… the end of my journey. A smile curved my lips. I must have been the first human to skip toward a giant’s house. My smile ...

The Giant

allthingsm4tt

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There it was… the end of my journey. A smile curved my lips. I must have been the first human to skip toward a giant’s house.

My smile eased as I edged closer. Everything was smaller than I’d pictured. The windows, the pathway, the door… I filled with hope. Maybe the stories of the giant’s size were grossly exaggerated?  

Thoughts about his size fell away when I came face to face with the door. It looked like a five year old painted it, a five year old with no hands and the eyesight of Stevie Wonder. I pondered its origin for too long, then scolded myself. I was there to kill a giant and claim the bounty on his head, not judge whether lime green goes with Barbie pink – it doesn’t by the way.

Once over the door’s paintjob, I searched high and low for a way in. There was no keyhole, knocker or crack in a panel I could use to wedge it open. I wondered how a giant ever entered. I even got myself into character and stomped about like a giant would, or at least how every Hollywood giant would. Coming from a little town in England I didn't see too many real giants. 

During my Oscar worthy stomping, I noticed, for the first time, a knocker. I froze and scratched my scalp, my go to mannerism when stumped. I tilted my head left and right, trying to add a new perspective. Without permission, my eyes blinked - chomping away like Pacman. I was now at my completely stumped mannerism.

I’ve found needles in haystacks and black cats in coal cellars, it’s my livelihood, so missing the knocker made no sense. I stepped up to the door and analysed this seeming re-incarnation of Harry Houdini. It didn’t disappoint.

Gold coated it and little diamonds accented its edges. It wore a gargoyle's face, with pointy ears and a nose that had told more lies than Pinocchio. A large ring jammed in its mouth and it begged to be knocked. Not being the type to disappoint, I reached up to the knocker and lifted the ring. As I went to slam it, the mouth opened and spat the ring at me. My first reaction was to wipe away the saliva. Then my brain caught up with events. "What the hell!" I ogled the knocker. Blinks were on hold for the moment.
            It puckered its lips and spoke, "I've been trying to get that out of my mouth for weeks." He stretched and pseudo yawned, contorting his face everywhere. I didn't know what to say. I'd never seen a knocker speak. A little town in England doesn't throw up these opportunities. "What are you gawking at?" His voice was raspy, it didn't reflect his appearance, but then again, what should a knocker's voice sound like? I did my best to reply, but the words weren't there. He asked me to nod if I was a mute. I shook my head. Then he asked if I was simple, which kicked me into life.

"Sorry, I've never spoken to a knocker before. Sorry!" I bleed 'sorrys' when my nerves are tampered with.

"Well now you have! So stop staring." He was angry for some reason.

"Erm, sorry, I need to get into this house and I think I need to knock. So if you don't mind? I'm going to put this ring back in your mouth."

"That isn't going back anywhere!"

"How will I let the giant know that I'm here to vanquish him?"

"I don't care. That isn't going in." He scrunched up his face and took on a whole new level of ugly.

"I promise after I’ve knocked I'll take the ring back out again."

"I wasn't born yesterday. That's what everyone says and everyone lies!" 

I did intend to take it out after but I could tell from his voice he wasn't going to believe me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed his nose and waited for him to breathe. To my relief, knockers need oxygen too. He held his breath for a long time and I did get worried, thinking I'm going to have the death of a doorknocker on my conscience. After fighting to a reddish gold, he gasped for air and I shoved the ring back into his mouth. I didn't waste anytime and slammed the knocker as hard as I could. As the ringing tolled, the house crumbled. Bricks, mortar and glass tumbled to the ground. The knocker dropped the ring and gagged with laughter.

I raced away from the door, but something grabbed me. Before I could register my opposition, twenty metres separated me from the ground. I'd tasted rollercoasters in Japan, Germany and other countries with casual laws on being flung through the air. They had nothing on this. 

My arms were trapped and all I could move was my head. If I'd been an owl, I could have turned my neck around and pieced my incarceration together. As it was, I could only see the smoke and rubble of the former house.

A strong stench battered my neck. When a smell is pungent enough it can be felt. A growl banged my eardrums. Suddenly, I loved my human limitations. I no longer wanted to see what was holding me. My jailor didn’t share my thinking. It rotated me at Alton Towers pace and finally, we were face-to-face. I wished its breath were its worst quality. Truth is, it was probably the best. It was a giant after all.

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About Post Author

allthingsm4tt

Writer of things, meme supplier, semi-occasional six string swordist, sporadic cinema goer and smiler.

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