The giant moved about the city like a toddler across a play mat; knocking over buildings and stomping on cars, causing the kind of chaos only replicable in a nursery. The city’s civilians – the ones who hadn’t run away, anyway – stared up at him with awe. Never had they seen someone so large, and so clumsy, wander through these streets.
The giant was a very skinny man, his silvering hair hanging down the length of his back and his clothes ragged and torn. His facial expression was turned down into a frown, and the bags under his eyes stressed he wasn’t having the best time in the world. As he rampaged through the city mindlessly, kicking through windows and pulling trees out by the roots, the world shook as though hit by a dozen earthquakes.
“Do you think he’s lost?” one civilian asked, his companion and himself hiding behind a tower block and watching the giant’s progress from afar.
His friend smiled. “Nah, he’s trying to find the bag shop. Get it? BAG – Big-Angry-Giant.” He burst out laughing, but his companion didn’t seem amused.
“Ha, ha,” he said. “Hilarious. But seriously – what do you think he’s doing here? I’ve never seen a giant anywhere near this city. Normally they stay hidden amongst the mountains and the valleys, miles out from here. Either this one’s gone rogue, or else he’s got lost somehow. I mean, just look at him. He’s confused.”
From where the civilians were standing, however, the giant looked everything but confused. He was ferociously picking up and throwing cars now, a cloud of dust and debris following him wherever he bounded. All you could hear were the dozens and dozens of screams, amplified by the surrounding buildings, and the almost constant crash of very heavy things hitting very hard concrete very quickly.
“If he were lost,” the second man said, “then why is he taking a liking to that Toys R Us over there?”
The two men watched as the giant stopped and bent down. He then tore the roof of said shop off, and the giant now held within his bony and oversized hands dozens and dozens of specks of colour. He threw all the toys he came across into the air, like someone throwing confetti, and then the world was raining toys.
“What a pity. I loved that shop,” the first man commented. “Still, maybe now they’ll finally build that IKEA.”
Every day during February I’m going to write a piece of creative writing inspired by a prompt. The prompts have been taken from here, although I may shuffle some of the days around if I fancy.
The last line’s a bit of an in-joke. Sorry!