‘The Giant’: a little bit of prose

A part of her, at least, became conscious again. Thankfully, not any part of her that could suffer from pain or sickness; a graceful mercy by the universe. That is to say that she, the ‘she’ that she was now, could still house those feelings; or rather, provide them with temporary shelter. But they would no longer damage her, fill her, consume her. No, she could never again be consumed.

Instead she was suspended, supported. Cushioned and floating. Her skin was now translucent, freely giving and receiving all matter around it, without either control or injury, in contrast to her cautious life before. She watched as pink and purple lava flowed in, around, and out of her body. Fluid jellied shapes continued their steady journeys like working ants, without awaiting her permission. Nothing was considered, it simply was happening.

She titled her head upwards, slowly, as if on the edge of a bath. Comfortable enough not to be moved by anything she saw, but curious enough to look. She watched her hair swim after the previous moment’s urge of her neck. Everything was happening at a speed that meant you could continue acting in the present, while still watching the recent past happening at your side. Living, breathing nostalgia.

She felt nothing of the previous night, though. Nothing of the alcohol, the exhaustion, of the drugs that she had been unaware she was putting into herself. The giant had found her, filled her, and finally, consumed her.

She was now a part of him, and instead of all these muscle memories fizzing inside her, they passed idly through and around her, swimming with those jellied shapes, as if forming a jigsaw of a time past. Except that they were not building anything.

The giant had not accounted for this, and he was not built for such things. His chest was cavernous, but it would never be strong enough to house what he had put there. He was full, cramped, heavy, his body strapped into a thick decline.

Trapped inside him, the girl was freer than she had ever been. She was now nothing more than a sentient membrane of a soul, but she was there, and one day, she would finally consume him.

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