I check the bag one more time to make sure I got everything. A couple heads of broccoli, a smattering of apples and potatoes, and most importantly, eight pounds of the cheapest beef I could find.

 That should be enough for one day, at least. I hope so. My wallet’s getting awfully light.

 I get off the bus at the stop nearest to where I’m going. It’s in Lartonby, a part of town better known as the Pit. It’s called that because it’s truly at rock bottom. Not even homeless junkies want anything to do with this place, unless they’re really, really desperate—it’s wet, filthy, smells of decay, and the dilapidated industrial buildings don’t offer much shelter against the weather, or the vermin for that matter. All attempts at revitalizing this place have ended in abject failure.

 If somebody were watching me, they might wonder where I’m taking all that food. Thankfully, nobody cares about what some weirdo like me is up to. Weirdoes are a dime a dozen in a city like Mammotham, after all—especially in these parts. You learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business around here. That’s good, because I don’t know how I’d explain myself if anybody asked.

 I could simply tell the truth, of course. Nobody would believe it anyway. About four years ago, I happened to be wandering through here on an errand—story for another day—when I heard the voice of a girl, sobbing, calling for help. As I mentioned, it’s best to keep your head down if you know what’s good for you, so I considered simply pretending like I was deaf. Couldn’t go through with it, though. I might be cynical, but I’m not heartless.

 I soon found out that the voice was coming from an old overflow basin. It’s basically a big ol’ cylindrical concrete hole in the ground where some of the city’s storm drains gather. Of course, my first thought was that some unfortunate young lady had fallen in and was unable to climb back out. And it was a cool, rainy day in early spring, so she must’ve been in bad shape if that were the case.

 I hurried over and looked in, and that’s when I met Frej’k for the first time. Well, she didn’t have a name back then, she just made that one up on the spot when I asked her for it. It doesn’t mean anything, she just liked those sounds. I tried to come up with an intuitive spelling based on the pronunciation.

 So Frej’k is… I’m not sure if she was always the way she is now, or if she was born human and then… altered, somehow, but whatever the case, she’s not a normal person by any stretch. For starters, she was around twenty feet tall when I first met her, maybe bigger. Badly malnourished at the time, barely clinging to life.

 I’ve been trying to make sure she’s eating well, so she looks much better these days, has more meat on her bones. Seems she’s still a growing girl, too—Just about doubled in height (!) over the course of those four years I’ve known her. I think so, anyway. It’s hard to tell exactly how tall she is since she sits on her haunches most of the time, plus that basin is usually pretty dark at the hour I tend to arrive.

 Frej’k is omnivorous, like a human, but she only really cares for the taste of meat. Beef especially, but any will do. Doesn’t matter if it’s raw, she loves it, and she detests greens as much as any unruly child. I always make sure to pack plenty of fruit and veggies since I figure it’s important to balance her diet, plus it’s a lot cheaper than an all-meat diet. She’s usually hungry enough that she’ll eat it with a little coaxing. You might think poorly of me, that I only buy her such low-quality meat—but quantity is much more important to her than quality, and I really can’t afford to give her both.

 

I arrive at her basin. She’s made it into a home, sort of. No roof, she actually likes the rain on her skin, but there’s little bits and bobs she’s collected that she keeps in little gaps carved into the wall. It’s mostly toys and other stuff I brought her to keep her occupied. And there’s a bed made of cardboard and muck over on one side. Seems gross and cold to me, but she tells me she doesn’t mind: It’s better than sleeping in the puddle on the floor. The basin’s getting a bit small for her, but she’s afraid to climb out and risk being seen by people. Probably for the best.

 I see that she’s squatting low to the ground as per usual. The basin’s so dim at this time in the evening that most of her body’s hidden in the shade, with only her head and extremities visible in the sparse moonlight.

 “Hiya Dey-veed,” Frej’k croaks when she meets my eyes, waving clawed fingers in greeting. It’s David, but speech was never her strong suit.

 

I was amazed she could speak at all, really. When I first laid eyes on her I assumed she was a feral monster. Hair that looked like it’d never been washed or cut; slimy (bare!) skin with scaly patches here and there, caked in filth; yellow eyes with black sclerae; and a mouth full of uneven, sharp fangs. Yet at the same time, when I looked closer, I recognized that… there was still something obviously human about her. An overgrown, neglected young lady with some odd mutations, one who badly needed someone to care about her. Call it an instinctive reaction.

 In any case, I was too startled by the sight to run away or scream or do anything except stare. For a moment, she seemed just as shocked to see me, clearly reluctant to trust a human. But then she sighed and gave me a pathetic look like a sick puppy, and weakly crooned once more, “Help. Puh-leez.”

 And dare I say, even my shriveled little heart nearly broke at the sight.

 

“Hey, good to see you, Frej’k,” I greet her. I’m not a cheerful sort, but seeing her grin up at me always makes me smile back. Scary teeth notwithstanding.

 She gives me a look that asks, ‘Did you bring it?’ I raise the bag at her: I always do. It’s her only meal every day, so of course it’s important to her. I take out some of the broccoli, and she pouts at the sight—it’s as adorable as a forty-ish-foot-tall unwashed sewer monster could possibly look. Nevertheless, she gobbles it up without complaint when I toss it at her. I throw a pound of meat down after it as reward, and she eagerly catches it in her mouth right away. It’s gone in a matter of seconds. Seems she gets hungrier each day… Well, that makes sense, she’s a big girl. And still getting bigger…

 

That day four years ago, we got to talking about where she came from and how she’d wound up… like that. Earliest thing she remembered was running away from humans chasing her through the streets, people whom she knew wanted to capture and hurt her, even if she couldn’t recall why. She lost her pursuers by escaping down a manhole and found herself in the city’s sewers. It was dark and unpleasant, she told me, even for her. But at least it was safe, and she got used to it.

 She stayed there for weeks, emerging in the dead of night to prowl the less-ventured streets of the city for anything she could eat. I remember reading some yellow-press headlines at that time about a “monster from the sewers” scaring the bejeezus out of various folks, but all they had to show for their harrowing experience were blurry photos and hysterical witness accounts. Most people dismissed it as just a lurid tale made up by some sketchy journalist, or perhaps just a particularly large and adventurous alligator.

 One night she had a too-close encounter with a larger group of people, I suspect a gang of some kind, and they chose ‘fight’ over ‘flight.’ She managed to shake them by breaking open one of the city’s larger storm drains and crawling inside, but not without injuring one of her legs in the process. She had dragged herself through the tunnels and wound up in the basin where I found her, unable to climb out with that wounded leg. Might’ve starved there if it weren’t for me.

 Once she’d told me all that, I figured it was only fair to tell her a little bit about myself in return. I am a custodian at an office building, a human whose job it is to keep everything clean and in proper order (a concept largely unfamiliar to her, I noticed). I once had a wife and a daughter, but now I live by myself…

 Managed to earn her trust enough to make her believe me when I told her I’d be right back with food for her. I considered calling somebody, anybody—the police, a hospital?—but she’d begged me not to tell anyone about her, and I didn’t have the heart to break that trust. She seemed to have a good reason to stay hidden if her story was true, anyway.

 So, as promised, I came back with food, and I did so again the next day, and the day after. We sit and talk on most days, sometimes play little ‘guess what I’m thinking of’-type games to pass the time. There’s still a lot we don’t really understand about each other, but I like to think we get along well, regardless. It has given me some direction in life that I sorely needed.

 

I finished feeding her the potatoes, and once I confirmed that she’d actually eaten it all (she has been rather fussy in the past, which is surprising considering how she’s constantly hungry), I gave her the last of the meat. “Fank-you, Dey-veed,” she murmured afterwards, a pleased look on her face. She was satisfied for now; good.

 

It was about six months after I first met her that I had a terrible realization: If she loved meat so much, and she’d previously scavenged for food in the city streets, could she have…? I immediately asked her if she had ever thought about eating humans. And to my horror, she had nodded without hesitation.

 “One time,” she said. “So hung-ree. Found man, sleep in street. Frej’k come close, man stay sleep. Small man. Fit in mouf. E-zee food. Tas-tee!”

 Judging from the innocent smile on her face, she didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what she did. I got a cold shiver. How could I have been so naive? Did I think she was just a harmless pet? Her leg was better—she could climb out of the basin and start hunting people down any time she wanted. Maybe she already did! Hell, if she wanted to…

 That was my next question. I had to know. “Did you… ever think about eating me?” I slowly, quietly asked. It was all I could do to keep from stuttering.

 She pondered that a moment, the innocent look still on her face. Then she shook her head ‘no.’ “Not food, Dey-veed. Feed Frej’k, talk Frej’k, play Frej’k, ev-ree day. Help Frej’k.”

 I said, “So you won’t eat me because I’m a friend.”

 She nodded eagerly. “Yes, fuh-rend. Not eat fuh-rend.”

So, yeah… That’s where we’re at. I don’t just feed her every day because I took a liking to her, although that’s certainly part of it. The more important part is that I’m afraid she’ll go out and scavenge again if she goes hungry. I made her promise not to do that, told her that it’s dangerous, and she agreed because she trusts me now, but… That trust won’t stop a growling stomach forever. Plus, here’s the thing: A custodian’s salary isn’t exactly amazing, and as I’ve mentioned, she’s gotten a lot bigger, as has her appetite. I’ve been trying to carefully convince her that it’s bad to eat people, ‘friends’ or not, but I’m not sure if she understands the concept.

God, what am I gonna do?! She’s not going to live in a concrete hole forever, especially not if it gets more claustrophobic by the month. Just how big is she going to get? What if someone finds her while I’m not there? She’ll have to move, preferably somewhere away from people. But where am I going to take her? She’s grown far too much to fit back in the tunnel she’d originally come in from, so the only way out is up, and through the streets. There’s no way I can get her out of the city without being seen. And even if I could, then what? To a forest, or a swamp? She doesn’t know how to survive out in the sticks by herself, and I can’t teach her. I figure I’m going to need help, but who can I ask about something like this? I’m a loner, I don’t know who to trust—

“Dey-veed?”

Ah!

I jumped. I was completely lost in thought, standing by the edge of the basin, and hadn’t noticed that Frej’k had stood up straight. She almost never did that. Her face was really close to mine all of a sudden, dark eyes staring curiously into mine. “Dey-veed, you sad?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, darling,” I hastily tried to reassure her. Huh, when did I start calling her ‘darling’?

 She didn’t look convinced. “Dey-veed… Frej’k touch?”

In these four years, I hardly ever made direct contact with Frej’k. Partially because, as much as I liked her, she did reek to high heaven. Even us custodians have our reservations. But also, I always had it in the back of my head that she ate humans before, or at least a human. Of course, she’d promised not to hurt me, and I believe her, plus she could’ve easily grabbed me any time I was nearby if she really wanted to. I knew that, but your mind isn’t always rational. I feel fear like anyone else.

The only exceptions were a couple times when she’d told me she had a bad dream, with those sad-puppy eyes that made me forget how massive she was. She’d reach her hand up to me, and I’d lay her long fingers across my lap and tell her that everything’s okay as I caressed them. It’s a simple and awkward gesture, but if it works, it works: Calmed her down just fine. Took me some effort to wash the sewer-stink off me afterwards, but whatever.

So, now she wants to return the favor and calm me down. I don’t want to say no to such a thoughtful offer, but I’m so anxious…

"Okay, you can touch. Gently now,” I say, barely louder than a murmur.

Slowly, as if I was going to break if she moved too roughly (and in fairness, I really might), she extends both her hands towards me and wraps her clawed fingers around my waist. They’re a bit cold and icky, but I can tolerate it.

 She lifts me off my feet. I’m dangling over the hole now. Never was too good with heights. My heart’s going a mile a minute. I close my eyes for a second.

 I feel my body press up against something. Slick with mucus, but also soft and warm. I open my eyes and find myself staring into Frej’k’s upper chest. Her hands are pressing me against her skin, gently stroking my back. I can feel her chin resting against the top of my head. She begins to quietly hum a tune, lacking in melody but pleasing all the same.

 It’s… nice. I forget everything for a while.

 “It oh-kay,” Frej’k whispers. “Not sad, Dey-veed. Not scared. Frej’k here.”

 We stay like that for… I don’t know. She eventually pulls me away from her again and places me back on the edge of the basin, at which point I realize that I’d been dozing off into a reverie.

 Frej’k looks at me expectantly, her head barely a foot away from me. I take a moment to breathe, clear my throat. “Thanks, Frej’k,” I finally manage. “I needed that.”

 She smiles. I don’t even flinch when I see her fangs this time, they’re just… part of her, in a comforting way.

I still have no idea how I’m going to solve everything. Yet now I feel confident that we’ll figure something out. It seems impossible, but… I’d also have thought that a gigantic girl from the sewers was impossible.

I reach out to her enormous face, rub her cheek with wide motions. She softly croons and leans into it, seemingly overjoyed that I’m not afraid to touch her anymore. Honestly, once you get used to her appearance, she's cute-- still a bit scary, and rightly so, but cute. Her unconcerned smile makes dealing with the stench more than worth it. Caring for her has ruled my life these past few years, and I never asked for it… But right now, I feel so blessed to have met her.

She nudges her nose into my chest. Screw it, I’m gonna have to wash these clothes and shower thoroughly anyway. I embrace her as best as I can, wrapping my arms around her face, and she closes her eyes as she slowly leans forward until her forehead gently bumps into me. Her long, stringy hair falls around me like a thick curtain shielding me from the cold world. I’m covered in grime from head to toe, but I don’t mind.

We’re going to be okay. And we'll stick together, no matter what.

“Hypnosis therapy, you say? Never put much stock in that vague mumbo-jumbo, myself, if I’m being honest,” Richard said to her.

Nellie forced a smile. She’d had this conversation too many times to count. “It’s not nonsense, I can tell you that. It’s got a solid scientific foundation. The human brain is susceptible to suggestion, and if you know just where and how to push somebody, you can get them to go along with just about anything.”

Richard took a sip of his coffee. “Mm, if you say so. And you call it therapy? You’re a licensed therapist then?”

“Well, not as such,” she admitted. “It’s really more something I picked up as a hobby at first, and a lot of folks who’ve tried it were really impressed with the result. I have a money-back guarantee if the customer’s dissatisfied, and no one’s ever taken it, if that helps.”

“Ah, clever. You hypnotize them to think they’ve gotten what they wanted. Easy money,” Richard quipped. She could tell that this was all still a joke to him.

They had met in the park adjacent to Mammotham U’s campus, where he’d sat down to review his lecture notes. She had approached him there, asking if she could sit with him, and he had no reason to say ‘no.’

She had a bit of a mousey demeanor, small and demure, but Richard thought her appearance was eye-catching all the same. She wore a long, sleeveless dark green dress, the hem of which featured angular black patterns. Her shoulders were covered by a shawl the same color as her dress. She had an elaborate tattoo sleeve on her left arm, and several leather bracelets adorned with colored beads around her wrists. She wore her long auburn hair in a thick braid that reached all the way to her mid-back. What struck him most were her reddish-brown eyes—he couldn’t place it, but something about them captivated him, though he kept that to himself. All in all, her looks certainly made her stand out among the other students of the campus despite the inconspicuous way she carried herself.

She’d noticed him looking at her and struck up a conversation with him. They exchanged names, he told her he was in the Mathematics department, she said she was enrolled in the Humanities and following a program in occult studies (he visibly had to resist the urge to roll his eyes). It was immediately clear they had very little in common, but that just meant they had plenty to talk about.

And talk Richard did. Nellie had mostly just politely listened, occasionally asking a question here and there to show she was still interested. Eventually she had stood up and said she was going to get a coffee, and he was welcome to join her. Sure, why not, he’d thought, and so here they were. They’d broached the topic of their off-campus lives, and that’s when she’d mentioned that she dabbled in her own self-styled brand of ‘therapy.’

“Well, I can’t make you believe anything you don’t want to believe,” Nellie explained. “I just guide you to a state where believing is seeing, rather than the other way around. I give suggestions, and if your mind accepts them, you experience it as if it’s real. That’s the beauty of it, you can experience anything you like, even things that are… impossible,” she said with a whimsical flourish of her hand. Richard wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but it did pique his curiosity just a tad.

He wasn’t willing to admit that just yet, however. “So that’s all it is, just a play on the senses,” he said.

“Well, if that’s how you want to describe it. But your senses are all you have. Even if none of it’s really true, for a moment, you’ll be completely convinced it is. And that’s when you enter a world where anything is possible.”

“Not sure that’d work on me. I’m a man of science, I think I’d be too skeptical to fall for those mind tricks,” he boasted.

“Oh, I’ve dealt with your type before,” she replied with a devious smile. “You’d be surprised how easy it is, provided you’re willing to give it an honest try. It’s a bit like a magic trick, really—I let you fool yourself. You’ll convince yourself that you’ve got it all figured out, but the trick is in something else you never even considered. The smarter you think you are, the sooner I’ll have you right in the palm of my hand.”

She was taunting him now, never breaking eye contact as she sipped her coffee. Richard recognized that, but he took the bait anyway, interested to see where it would go. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Tell you what, my schedule’s free right now. If you’ve got time, you can come with me to my place, and I can give you a demonstration. If you’re not convinced that it’s working for you, it’s free of charge. How’s that sound?”

“Well, sure, what the heck.” Even if nothing came of it, he’d have a great anecdote to tell his friends. What’s the worst that could happen? Normally he wouldn’t go with somebody he just met like this, but he was confident he’d be just fine.

 

She took him to her studio apartment not too far from the college campus. Richard tried to make some more small talk during the bus ride there, asking her what occult studies was like.

“The history’s not nearly as ancient as you’d think,” Nellie said. “It’s so fascinating. For instance, did you know that just a century ago, there was an underground society of sorceresses right here in Mammotham? That’s what today’s lecture was about.”

He raised his eyebrows, nonplussed. “Oh really? And what sort of sorcery did they get up to, then?”

“Not the fun kind,” she dryly replied. “They believed all people possess some sort of spiritual power they called ‘vim,’ which wanes as one grows older. They were also convinced that they could become something greater than a normal human by absorbing the vim of others to replenish their own.”

“Feh. The nonsensical tripe those spiritual types will convince themselves of,” Richard said with a scoff. “Let me guess, people got hurt because of their bullshit?”

“Worse than hurt, I’m afraid. Their believed that they could absorb people’s vim by consuming them alive. Young adults were their preferred targets, since they’d be in their prime, brimming with vigor. They claimed many victims before they were discovered,” Nellie recounted.

“Ergh. That’s disgusting AND horrible. What could be worth that?”

“Oh, well, they thought it was the secret to being immortal,” she explained. “Eternal youth in both mind and body, unparalleled beauty and vitality, the ability to bend the feeble thoughts of ‘mere’ humans to your will… With enough of it, the world’s at your feet. Or so they believed.”

“All they’d get from trying to eat people is severe psychological distress, plus a prion disease,” Richard said with a look of contempt. “And the electric chair, I hope.”

“Oh, yes. Once word got out, the police didn’t rest until every last one of the sorceresses was behind bars, and their crimes were considered plenty heinous enough for the death penalty. Everything they wrote down and their possessions were destroyed as well so that nobody could try to repeat what they did. That does make it harder for scholars like me to study their history, but that’s just the way it is.”

“Hmph. Well, I think it’s a waste of time and money, studying that vague mystic bullcrap,” Richard began.

Here comes the inevitable diatribe, Nellie thought to herself.

“What’s the use of dredging up those horrible, ass-backwards ideas? Just leave that in the past where it belongs. It makes me sick to think there’s still people like that out there doing who-knows-what to others because of their silly religious beliefs. I’ll be glad when the day finally comes that humanity leaves all that superstitious shit behind for good!”

Richard was so caught up in his rant that he didn’t even notice Nellie leaning back, a contented smirk on her face as she watched him pontificate. She congratulated herself for picking him out of the crowd, back when she saw him at the park. He was perfect. Just the guy she had thought he’d be. She looked forward to seeing the look on his face in just a few minutes…

She made sure to conceal her giddiness again when she spoke up, breaking him out of his spiel. “This is our stop,” she announced.

 

She led him into her small apartment, which was covered top to bottom with all sorts of trinkets Richard couldn’t hope to recognize. In one corner stood a contraption that reminded him of a small distiller from a chemistry lab. What was she trying to do in here, alchemy? Maybe it was all for show. It did give the place a certain vibe.

“Shoes off, please,” Nellie instructed. “Your socks, too. It’s an important part of the sensory experience.”

Richard shrugged and did as he was told while Nellie moved to the kitchenette on the far side of the room and turned on a water boiler. Smack-dab in the middle of the space stood a very quaint little table of sorts, one that reached barely a foot and a half off the ground. She returned a moment later with a teapot and sat down cross-legged on the rug surrounding the table, gesturing for him to do the same. The rug felt tickly under his bare feet.

“Here, have some of this tea,” Nellie offered as she poured him a cup. “It’ll help you relax. Can’t do much if you’re all on edge.”

He reached for the cup, but then stopped. “Hey, wait a minute, I get it,” he said. “You put something funny in this cup, didn’t you? Something that’ll make me see pink elephants. Is that how your ‘hypnosis’ works?”

“A reasonable concern,” Nellie replied. She remained unflappable. “But I solemnly promise to you, there aren’t any hallucinogens in this tea. Here, I’ll even have some myself.” She poured a second cup, paused to cool it with her breath, then slowly took a sip. “See? You can trust me.”

Well, alright. Richard wasn’t usually the type to trust someone he just met, but Nellie seemed harmless. He took a long gulp from the tea. It was quite sweet with a bitter undercurrent, which he enjoyed.

“Now then, are you settled in? I’m ready to start when you are,” she told him.

“Sure, lay it on me.”

“Alright, here goes. Please look into my eyes. Look closely, and tell me what you see.”

“Well, they’re pretty, but it’s not nice to fish for compliments like that,” he quipped.

She gave him an unamused look.

“Alright, sheesh. Uh, well, they’re a deep red-brown color.”

“Are you sure? Look even closer.”

Now that he did take another look… “Huh, I guess they’re more magenta than brown,” he corrected himself. And quite a vivid shade of magenta, at that. Huh, that’s weird, he thought, he could’ve sworn… But no, he must’ve seen it wrong. A trick of the light, perhaps.

“Very good. But it’s not just the irises I want you to focus on. Stare into my pupils, and tell me.”

She leaned towards him to give him a better look. He still had to squint. It struck him that Nellie hadn’t blinked at all, her maroon eyes boring into his. “I see… my reflection, I guess.”

“That’s right. It’s where the word ‘pupil’ comes from, actually. You see yourself as a little doll in another person’s eyes. I can see you for what you really are, Richard. And what I see is a very small man.”

“I’m six foot one,” he retorted. “Not what I’d call small.” He found that he couldn’t break contact, no matter how hard he tried to look away from those lavender eyes.

“Are you really, though? From where I’m sitting, you look like you don’t reach five feet. Four, even,” she told him. “And you’re getting smaller by the second. Why don’t you try standing up and seeing for yourself if you don’t believe me?”

He wanted to, but her turquoise gaze had made him dizzy, so he stumbled when he tried to get to his feet. His world grew fuzzy for a moment as a feeling of vertigo washed over him. It took him a little while to get his bearings. Once he felt well enough to try standing up again, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Nellie had told the truth—he was smaller. He was standing up and she was sitting on the floor, yet his eyes were almost level with her light blue ones. He felt the rug he was standing on tickle past his ankles. What on earth…?

“Still convinced it wouldn’t work on you?” Nellie teased, a pleased look on her face. “I told you. You’re under my spell now, and you can’t help but believe it when I tell you that you’re still getting smaller. But you have no reason to worry. After all, you know that it’s not real, right? No matter what your senses are telling you.”

Yes, that’s right, he reminded himself. It’s just hypnosis, just psychological trickery. He only imagined he’d stood up, perhaps. He was actually still sitting down, and that’s why his perspective’s off. That must be it.

Another dizzy spell hit him, so he braced himself against the table—already well above his hips—and looked up at her. Through his blurry vision, he could just about make out her bright aquamarine eyes staring down at him.

“You’d better climb onto the table, before you’re too short to,” Nellie said. “I’d hate for you to get lost in the carpet.”

He did as she suggested. The cold wooden surface of the table under his feet felt... real. But it looked so flimsy before! There was no way it could support his nearly 200 pounds of weight, it was clearly impossible… He struggled to think of an alternative explanation for what he was feeling. Maybe she had guided him to stand on some other wooden surface without him realizing?

“There, that’s better. I can see you properly again now,” she said. “And look, you’re only about as tall as your teacup now! How adorable.”

This isn’t real, Richard reminded himself. He refused to acknowledge that he indeed couldn’t look over the rim of the cup anymore. He kept his gaze focused on Nellie, who sent him patronizingly doting looks from quite a ways above him, as if he were a favorite pet hamster.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come over here. Take a little walk across the table,” she said.

He could only do as he was told. Walking to the other side of the table was a brisk distance. He passed the teapot in the middle, which appeared the size of a small house to him now.

Soon he found himself standing before Nellie’s towering form. How had he described her before? ‘Mousey?’ ‘Small and demure?’ That seemed like a distant memory. He had left that world and entered one where he was utterly helpless before her.

He’d never dare use those adjectives now. He had to stare way, way up past her building-sized body to see her face. She seemed almost like an enormous statue of a goddess, overwhelming in both beauty and size. Unmoving, unblinking. Smiling down at him without caring about him. Her sinister yellow eyes were watching his every move from on high, her chin resting on her steepled hands.

“There you are,” she said. “Now tell me, do you still think my hypnosis is just a few cheap parlor tricks? Can you look up at me from all the way down there and honestly believe you’re just too smart to fool?”

This was a test, Richard thought. She’s trying to see if intimidating me will make me abandon good sense. Well, it won’t work.

“That’s right,” he yelled up at her. “This is all just an illusion. I’ll admit that it’s an impressive one, I’d love to figure out how you managed all this, but what you’re showing me is physically impossible. It can only be smoke and mirrors.”

“I can hear you just fine, no need to raise your voice,” she chided. “But I’m impressed. I thought for sure you’d be quivering in fear by now, fully convinced I’m a terrible giant plotting to do who-knows-what with you. Clearly, I underestimated your ability to see through my trickery.”

Richard couldn’t deny himself a victorious smirk. “So you admit defeat? Well, it’s been fun. What happens now?”

“Actually, I wanted to put you through one last test first,” she said, and lowered her left hand to lie flat on the table before him. “Climb on.”

“Alright then, if you insist,” he mumbled. Stepping onto the palm of a colossal hand felt really weird. Like standing on massive, warm, firm, slightly oily couch cushions that smelled vaguely of soap and various other things. He had just a few moments to get used to that feeling before Nellie raised her hand back up, knocking him off his feet.

He looked around a bit. The table seemed quite a ways down from up here, and seeing that the floor was even farther away made him anxious. The tattoo sleeve on her arm looked like an enormous mural decorating some oddly-shaped tower, one he was sitting on top of…

He was so engrossed with taking it all in that he briefly forgot all about his circumstances. When he finally looked up, he was met with the sight of Nellie’s titanic face, so close that it took up his entire field of vision. She was still giving him that knowing smile, a bit of a smug edge to it. He felt embarrassed: She must’ve recognized that, for a moment, he really did believe that he was sitting right in the palm of her hand.

But he couldn’t let her win just like that. He shook his head a few times to try and concentrate. Remember, this can’t possibly be real, he reminded himself. It’s just really strong make-believe. Even if he could feel her skin under his feet, even if her body heat and her scent permeated the air around him, even if he could feel the breath from her nose rush past him, it was all just in his imagination.

“Aww, just look at you,” she cooed. It was little more than a breathy murmur, but he could hear it loud and clear, as close as he was to her mouth. Her voice reverberated through his entire body. “I just wanted to say that you look absolutely precious, sitting there in the palm of my hand. Even if you don’t believe anything else I’ve told you today, you better believe that. It’s really a much better size for you than how you were before. I almost feel tempted to keep you like this, maybe as a pet… but I’d better not.”

Richard couldn’t respond. He was preoccupied with staring into her right eye, then into her left, each of them much bigger than he was, and so close that he could only focus on them one at a time. Gosh, they were so pretty and, and so alluring! They were vivid green and bright orange, a warm cream pink color one moment and icy gray the next, the color of the late afternoon sky and of the stormiest ocean, and as vast and deep as both…  Hazel brown and crimson red and pure white and vanta black, and all the colors he could name, and more. He was mesmerized, could sit there all day if she’d let him. His vision blurred again, but he never broke eye contact. He couldn’t if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to.

Nellie grinned as she basked in the feeling of absolute control for a moment. She never felt more alive than during these moments, when her mark was fully caught in her trap. But she couldn’t relish it forever. It was time to finish this.

“There’s just one final step before I break the illusion you’re under. In just a moment, I’m going to open my mouth, and you will climb inside. In doing so, you will prove that you have conquered your fear. Right now, your senses are screaming at you that you are in grave danger. The hairs on your teeny-tiny body are standing on end, and you can feel your little heart beating in your throat,” she said.

Now that she mentioned it, he did feel a cold sweat on his forehead. Something wasn’t right here, his gut told him. Something was very wrong, and he was about to find out what.

“But you are above those irrational feelings, aren’t you? You’re a man of science, right? You can’t trust your primitive instincts. There are only two things you place your trust in: Your own reasoning, and me. You remain convinced that you’re not in real danger, and you know that you have no reason to fear me. It’s only logical. You’d stake your life on it. Isn’t that right?”

Yes, that’s right. He was safe and sound, there was no reason to believe any different. Whatever he was feeling was only the result of his senses playing tricks on him, and he wouldn’t be played for a fool like that. He nodded to her in agreement, and she beamed gleefully in response.

“Excellent! Are you ready? Here comes the test.”

She brought her lips right up to her palm, took a moment to wet them, then slowly parted them, revealing the darkness they guarded. The tip of her tongue extended over the threshold, inviting him like a red carpet—one that writhed slightly, and that was drenched in saliva.

For a moment Richard faltered, if only out of revulsion rather than anything else. Was he really going to… do this? But his desire to prove himself won out. This wasn’t real, anyway. Logic dictated that he wasn’t in any real danger, and he had nothing to fear from Nellie. Nothing whatsoever. He wasn’t going to chicken out now—that’d be admitting defeat.

He stepped onto her tongue (he could feel it shudder in response!) and carefully traipsed into the cavernous mouth. His feet were instantly soaked, and hot breath saturated with spit washed over him. He smelled all sorts of things, but the most recognizable was the lingering scent of the coffee she had drank earlier, and a hint of that sweet tea. He ignored it all. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And he was going to prove it.

 

In one swift motion, Nellie closed her mouth, tilted her head back, and swallowed.

Too easy.

She had dropped so many hints, too. Told him about the sorceresses and how they ate humans to gain vim, more specifically the power to control the thoughts of others… She’d explained that her hypnosis worked by manipulating what he already believed was true… Why, she’d practically given the game away, and he still fell for it. He was so consumed by the idea that it was all just a trick that he failed to realize what he was walking into.

She had been alive for well over a hundred years now. The city had changed a lot in that time. And yet, some things remained the same as always: The old confidence trick never failed. Let somebody believe that they’ve got it all figured out and they’ll willingly wander into their undoing.

She shuddered as a rush coursed through her body. Richard had reached her stomach. By then he must have realized that he’s been had—too little, too late. It didn’t matter how many she ate, the feeling of her vim replenishing itself was always exhilarating. If this was ‘severe psychological distress,’ it sure felt amazing. Her body stretched outward an inch or two and pulsed with renewed vitality. Good. She was feeling awfully shrimpy lately.

Her sisters hadn’t made it far before the trail of bodies in their wake led the police right to them. They had made such a mess of things; it was inevitable that they’d be caught.

Nellie, on the other hand… She was a clever one. She’d operated by her lonesome, luring self-assured, well-to-do college students by beguiling them before they got the bright idea of telling anybody where they were going. And then she’d swallow them whole, leaving no evidence behind… Well, except their footwear. Perhaps she ought to stop telling them to take those off, even if she’d have to miss the feeling of their tiny little feet climbing in her palm and stepping onto her tongue.

But it was so thrilling to make a fool out of them! That was the best part. To leverage their own arrogance against them, to make them willingly walk into their own doom. Of course, Richard’s fate was sealed from the moment he ingested the shrinking potion in his tea. (Hey, she hadn’t lied—It was not a hallucinogen. Of course, he couldn’t have known that she was immune to her own concoctions…) She couldn’t help but toy with him, though. It’d be so boring to just eat him right away. Besides, why waste the effort picking his tiny body off the floor when she could just have him come to her?

She’d been doing this for a hundred years, so she had to keep it interesting for herself. Watching those fools gawk up at her from the palm of her hand and dumbly throw themselves into her waiting mouth never got old. She’d racked up quite the body count doing this, but it would seem that nobody had traced all those disappearances to the same culprit, let alone to her. Really though, in a city of hundreds of thousands of people, who’s going to miss one or two idiots?

Slowly, that rush she felt whittled away. She was sated for now, but in only a week or two’s time she’d feel that craving again, that hunger that could only be stilled by devouring another sucker. She’d claimed at least two victims every month without fail. She had to: Now that she had given up her humanity to attain eternal life, she was fated to sustain herself like this. Luckily for her, there’s a sucker born every minute, so she never went hungry.

Sometimes she even managed to snag more than two in a month, and that meant she could do better than just survive. She’d gain a surplus of vim that slowly accumulated. One day, her control over the minds of others would be so overwhelming that she could dominate masses of people at once. Then she’d feast every day, exponentially empowering herself until none would be able to stop her… But that was a long way off.

Until then, she’d better get to planning her next move. The ‘occult studies’ story had worked wonders so far, none of her victims had suspected that there was no such program in the Humanities department. Still, it was probably best not to keep the same MO for too long. Maybe she’d hit the business schools next—those types all believe themselves to be invincible, she thought to herself. Perhaps next time she could try to lure two marks in one go. Then again, that might be too risky… But that also made it an exciting idea.

Nellie stood up, stretched, and rubbed her stomach. Goodbye, Richard, she thought. You were fun while you lasted… But I won’t miss you. Perhaps no-one will, at least, not too much— That’s what I’m counting on. And if anybody comes looking for you anyway, I’ll lead them right to where you went…

Fucking… ow. Son of a bitch, this is the worst.

Ah, excuse my French. I’m just trying to get across here that I am in the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life right now.

So, little backstory. I was walking down this alleyway on my way home, right? It’s my usual route, never had any trouble. Then, right out of nowhere, this complete nutjob in a black sedan comes round the corner, screeching tires.

Cars aren’t even supposed to be back here! Where’d he come from?! The alley’s too narrow, I had nowhere to go, and this asshole wouldn’t stop for nada. Didn’t even brake. So he barrels into me, I roll over the top of the car, like in an action movie.

But action movie heroes just walk away from that kinda thing. It looks like I won’t be doing that. Can’t move. Can’t even reach for my phone to call an ambulance. I’m just laying here on the wet stones. Jesus fucking Christ, it hurts so much. Just telling this story in my head to distract myself from it, but it’s not working.

Yeah, I’m definitely bleeding. My abdomen feels like it’s got a thousand knives in it. And my legs… I think they’re bent at an angle they’re not supposed to be in. I can’t see what it looks like from the position I’m lying in, but I’m almost glad for it.

Why? Why was that car here, and why was he in such a hurry? I guess I’ll die never knowing the answers to those questions. What did I do to deserve this?!

I’m starting to get lightheaded. Suppose this is the end. I stare up at the inky clouds in the evening sky, the drizzling rain staining my face. Any moment now, I’ll lose consciousness, and I’ll probably never regain it.

But before that happens, I notice something bright out of the corner of my eye. I look over and see a woman standing a little ways away, or a woman-like figure anyway—she’s entirely clad in white robes, complete with a hood over her head. She literally seems to radiate light, and… I might just be seeing things on account of the lightheadedness, but she seems REALLY freakin’ tall. Like, head at least four stories up in the air-kinda tall, maybe even five. Hard to tell from down here, my vision going woozy and all. Seems as if there’s just barely enough room for her in this alley without having to move sideways.

Well, is this it? Have I died, and is she going to escort me to the afterlife? I hope not, because that’d mean the pain doesn’t go away when you die. That would suck.

She begins pacing towards me. Her being so massive and all, I’d expect the ground to tremble with her footfalls or something, but no—it’s really quiet. She’s barefoot, I notice. Her enormous feet land on the damp pavement with only the slightest noise, like the slapping sound of somebody walking over a tiled floor. It’s the uncanniest thing.

With those long legs, it only takes her a few strides to reach me. Yeah, she’s definitely no ordinary human. Her toes are each as large as my head, easily—hell, the big ones are as wide as my waist. She’s five stories for sure, could be even taller than that.

She sinks through her knees and looms over me, her body shielding me from the rain. I try to say something but only end up coughing. She brings a finger to her lips and shushes.

“Rest easy. I mean you no harm. You are not going to die. I shall bring you to a hospital, if you would allow me to,” she says to me. Her voice is barely louder than a murmur, yet it has a firmness to it, a hint of authority.

I just lie there for a second, taking in the sight, too stunned to process her words. Her whole body glows with a gentle light. It’s not glaring to look at. Calming, rather, like a dim lantern. I see her eyes studying me way up above, past that wall of pristine white robes—not a speck of dirt on them by the way, even the rain doesn’t seem to stain them! Or rather, she’s studying my injuries, I should say. Those eyes are a brilliant golden color I’ve never seen on anyone before. Her skin, on closer inspection, is a light tan shade—couldn’t tell before on account of my poor vision and that light radiating off of it. Her hair is a darker shade of brown, and it hangs around her face in thick locks that curl towards the tips.

All in all, her beauty is immaculate, there’s an inhuman flawlessness to it—again, it’s as uncanny as it is captivating.

“Time is of the essence,” she speaks up again, snapping me out of my distraction. Right, I’m dying, should probably get that looked at. “You urgently need medical attention. I fear that human physicians would arrive too late to save your life, even if they were promptly alerted to your situation. I would like to help you, but I will not touch you without your permission. Nod once if you understand and would permit me to attempt to save you, or shake your head if you prefer to be left alone.”

Again I feel at a loss for how to respond at first, but this time I manage to snap myself out of it after a couple seconds. Time is indeed short, so I better decide right away. I just nod. I have no idea who or what this lady is, but what do I have to lose? I need first aid or else I’m going to die and she’s the only one around to help. I don’t want to die.

“As you wish. Please try not to move. I will be delicate."

It doesn’t take long before I find out what she means by that. She reaches her hands down and scoops me up, very carefully, as if I’m a wounded baby bird she intended to nurse back to health. Well, I guess that’s not too far off.

Once I’m safely in her palms, she stands up straight again. She moves nice and slow for my sake, but I still feel all woozy again. I can feel my consciousness starting to slip away. That’s not good.

“Hey,” I manage. “I don’t… feel so good. Is the hospital far?”

“It will take us a little while to get there, I fear, yes,” she replies. “And your condition appears to be critical. Thankfully, I should be able to stabilize you for the time being. Once again, please remain still.”

Before I can tell what’s happening, she brings her hands—with me in them—up to her face, and then slowly presses her lips against my body, directly over the wounds in my abdomen. I don’t get the chance to protest, so I just reflexively tense up, expecting whatever she’s doing to hurt like a bitch.

…Whoa.

There’s… barely any pressure at all. Wow, how do I even describe it? I expected to feel all sorts of things, but instead I… almost don’t feel the contact. The pain’s gone, too— It all slipped away within a second of her lips touching my body. And it doesn’t even feel like something’s pressing into me, more like… I’m being caressed. Well, I am, she’s cradling me in her hands, but, I mean… Her lips are large enough to cover my whole torso, and it feels like I’m being gently massaged everywhere all at once, all tingly and relaxed. It simultaneously is and isn’t overwhelming: I can’t process all these stimuli coming in, and yet I’ve never felt so serene.

I have no idea how much time has passed. It could’ve been two seconds or the rest of my life. But at some point she moves her face away from me, and only then do I start coming to my senses again. I can’t help but smile like an idiot. For the second time tonight I wonder, what did I do to deserve this? I must look pathetic, lying here in the palms of her hands with a dumb grin on my face, but I’m well past the point of caring.

She doesn’t seem to care either. “There,” she says, “that should seal your wounds and keep your mind and body stable, if only for the time being. We must get you in a hospital bed while it lasts. I will begin moving now. Do not be alarmed.”

Sure enough, she begins pacing out of the alleyway, carrying me in her cupped hands. She only moves one step at a time, and yet it’s as fast as I could run. I actually manage to sit up straight. Still can’t move much, but instead of pain there’s just a numbness.

It’s a relaxing ride. I still feel all tingly, and her walking creates a sort of gentle rocking motion. It might’ve put me to sleep if I didn’t just have a near-death experience. To our left and right I see the fourth and fifth floors of the buildings we’re passing by—it’s not every day you see those at eye level.

Then I look behind me and— Wow. Hadn’t really noticed before on account of her robes and the pain I was in, but now that she’s carrying me at chest level, I can certainly tell that she’s quite… shapely. I snap out of it and quickly look up to her face. Wouldn’t do to be caught staring now. Luckily, she’s preoccupied with looking ahead of where she’s walking.

“How’d you do that just now? And who or what are you? Um, if you don’t mind me asking, ma’am,” I meekly ask her.

She casts her eyes to the ground. “Regrettably, I no longer have a name to introduce myself with. As for what I am, or what I previously was… I suppose ‘Angel’ is the closest concept in human culture. My kind has limited dominion over life and death.”

The ‘Angel’ looks at me again. “For instance, our blessing can still your pain and briefly alleviate the worst effects of your injuries, as you have just experienced. Yet I and my kin are not permitted to use this miraculous ability, save for extraordinary circumstances. Our intended role is not to save humans from death. Instead, we are meant to console the lonely and the abandoned on their deathbed, to guide them towards acceptance of their fate, and to escort their souls to their appropriate destination afterwards.”

She lets out a quiet sigh. “I… did not accept that designated purpose. I wished to help the living, not just the dying. I overstepped my role. And for that prideful defiance, I was exiled.”

“Gosh,” I said, processing all of that. “An Angel, you say? Like, from heaven? I thought angels had wings? Or were actually a flaming ring with eyes on it, or something?”

“I merely used the human concept of angels as the closest analogy,” the Angel coolly replies. “I am not precisely the being you are thinking of, but it is the best description available. As for my appearance, my kind is able to take various guises as needed… Well, usually. I was relieved of that particular ability when I was exiled, so I am now stuck in this form. Although, I can still pose as an ordinary human if need be… but that would prevent me from carrying you like this.”

I look over the rim of her cupped hands to see where we are. She’s already made it several blocks in just the minute or so we’ve been talking. I see a few groups of people wandering up and down the street, but they don’t seem to notice the gigantic Angel walking in the middle of the road at all. I’m guessing no-one can see her unless she wants them to? Would explain how she’s gone unnoticed all this time.

I look back up at her. “Well, I’m not complaining. Your appearance right now is lovely, if you don’t mind me saying,” I tell the Angel. I’m not usually so forward with someone I just met, but I’m still riding the high of that ‘blessing,’ plus the whole situation is just surreal. I can’t help but just say what I’m thinking.

“That is kind of you to say, but know that your flattery has no effect. Vanity is strictly forbidden for my kind.” She says that, but with her face being so large and close to me, I can definitely notice that faint blush on her cheeks.

As we continue moving through the backstreets of the city, it strikes me that this Angel must not get to talk to people very often. It really does seem like no-one except me is able to see her.

“Does it get lonely? Like, do you just live by yourself?” I ask.

“That is correct. My life in exile is solitary by design. Most of the humans I rescue are already unconscious by the time I come across them. My kind is supposed to never think of our own wants, so it is shaming to admit it… But I do enjoy the opportunity to talk like this, even if only for a little while.”

For just a second, she gently smiles down at me. Then the expression is gone again and her eyes are back to the street ahead of her. It just occurred to me that she must be watching to make sure she doesn’t step on anyone.

Heh, imagine having that conversation. “Why are you late?” “Sorry boss, an Angel happened to catch me underfoot on my way over.” “Have you been smoking something funny again, Bill?” Ah, I amuse myself.

I can tell we’re nearing one of the city’s main thoroughfares by the distant cacophony of beeping car horns that’s slowly getting louder. Sure enough, we emerge from a side street and look out over a sea of traffic stuck in a massive jam. Hundreds of people in their little cars (well, they seem little from up here), each of them staunchly convinced that they should get to go home first.

Huh. It’s a busy road, but congestions are rare at this time in the evening. Let alone this bad.

“How were you planning to get past this?” I ask. She might be effectively invisible to all of these people, but there’s no way she can get through without bumping into something. There’s no room for her to put her foot down anywhere.

“Do not be concerned,” she curtly replies.

Before I can say anything else, the Angel lifts her foot and delicately places it on top of one of the cars waiting in line. I’m utterly baffled as I watch her lift her other foot as well and place it on the next car in the lane beside it. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Surely she must weigh… like, a lot? I’d expect either car to have gone ‘crunch,’ but their suspensions barely reacted.

“You’re, uh, a lot lighter than you look, huh?” I mutter absently. Then I realize what I just said and hastily add, “Not that I thought you were heavy or anything!"

“Fear not. There is nothing you can say that would offend me, though politeness is of course appreciated,” the Angel tells me. “As for your question, you assumed correctly: Ordinarily, my weight would be far too much for these vehicles to withstand. Thankfully, my kind is able to temporarily make ourselves much lighter relative to our surroundings. It is normally used to fly or hover, but it is also useful in these situations.”

I figure that she must’ve also lost the ability to fly, given that she hasn’t used it. Maybe she did have wings, once? Probably a sore spot if that’s the case, so I don’t ask.

“I must concentrate to maintain this state, however,” she says. “For the sake of the people we are passing over, I would ask that you try not to cause a distraction.”

I do as she says and just try to sit still. I can’t help but look down at the sight below us, though. It’s unbelievable. Her feet are so big that her toes droop over the edge of the car roof she’s standing on. Heh, those people have toes practically covering their windows, and they don’t notice a thing! It almost makes me laugh, it all looks so… insane. Maybe I’m just experiencing a dying dream or something. Well, I’m having a blast either way.

We get about halfway across the road. The other half is for traffic going the other direction, and it’s pretty much empty, so it should be smooth sailing from here. Still, what on Earth created this whole mess?

The Angel seems to be wondering that too. She stops, turns her head, peers down the road. I look over as well. There seems to be some kind of pileup a little further ahead blocking most of the road. I can see bodies lying on the asphalt amid broken glass, and they look bloodied… That ain’t good.

“That must be the cause of all this chaos. An accident has taken place on the road ahead of us,” she says. “I apologize, but I must take a detour to investigate right away. I hope that you are able to hold out a while longer?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. That blessing of yours literally did wonders,” I assure her.

She turns and begins striding along the road. We’re technically going against the tide of traffic, but nobody’s using this lane at the moment anyway. That being the case, she no longer needs to watch her step as much, so she’s moving a lot faster. I feel the air rush past me and see the rows and rows of cars down below. It’s quite a sight.

We soon arrive at the scene, and… Gosh, there’s quite a few wounded people. Even from up here I can tell that it’s bad. Several have lost consciousness from the looks of it. There’s some bystanders who seem like they have no idea what to do. Guess they’re waiting for an ambulance to arrive, but I don’t hear any approaching sirens yet...

“I will need my hands free to help them,” the Angel said.

“Help them? With all these witnesses?” I’m not sure how she operates, but I figure the idea is that nobody is supposed to notice her. It’s not common knowledge that there’s an invisible giant lady going around town saving people, after all.

“Let me worry about that.” Her voice has an urgent tone to it. Right, this is probably not a good time for questions.

“You seem well enough to sit upright. If you please,” she says as she moves the hand I’m sitting in to her shoulder. It takes me a second to understand what she’s asking. My legs don’t work properly, but I manage to crawl my way over and pull myself up by the fabric of her robe. It’s a little scary considering how high up I am, but I can’t complain if it helps save a bunch of people the same way I’m being saved… Plus, this whole experience seems so dreamlike that I barely feel like I’m in any real danger.

As soon as I’m settled in she steps closer to the crash victims and begins singing a song in a breathy voice. It’s a melody I don’t recognize, but it’s pleasant to listen to. Very much so, in fact. Her voice echoes through the street. The victims who are still conscious stop writhing in pain, the bystanders’ eyes seem to glaze over, even the car horns die out. Everyone has forgotten what they were doing to stop and listen. I can feel myself slipping into a trance, too…

“We’re ready. Shall we go?”

“Eh?”

I blink. Where am I again?

Ah, that’s right. Hit by a car, giant Angel, on her shoulder, I remember now. Heh heh, that’s funny now that I think about it—usually it’s the Angel that goes on your shoulder.

I look down. She’s holding half-a-dozen unconscious people in her cupped hands.

“I was asking if you are ready to proceed to the hospital,” she repeated, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

“Oh, sure.”

Probably for the best that we get a move on. The numbness is starting to give way to a dull ache. I don’t look forward to the pain returning with full force.

As if she’s reading my mind, the Angel gives me a reassuring smile. “We will be there soon. I shall move quickly.” She walks over to the empty side of the road with quick strides and prepares to cross it.

Unfortunately, she is in such a hurry that she almost fails to notice a car zooming through the lane she was about to step into. She manages to retract her foot just in time, but her entire body lurches back in response, and it causes me to lose my balance!

I quickly try to adjust, but overcompensate and start tumbling forward. In a reflex I flip around on my belly and try to cling onto her robe, but I find no purchase in the folds of cloth. I want to clamber back up but my legs still won’t respond. I panic and shut my eyes as I begin sliding off the front of her shoulder…

But before I fully enter a freefall, I hear the Angel let out a small cry of surprise. A split second later, something shoves against my back, and I feel like I’m being squished.

I keep my eyes squeezed shut. It takes a while before I realize I’m no longer falling, and I’m not dead.

Once I do, I open my eyes. All I see before me is the taut white cloth pressed up against my face. It’s rather soft, like I’m hugging a mattress… a really nice brand new one.

“A-Are you quite alright?” I hear the Angel’s voice above me ask. I wriggle a bit to free my neck and look up. There, past the folds of white, I can see her face. She looks very flustered, quite unlike her unflappable demeanor so far. Her cheeks are so flushed that I can tell from down here.

Down here… I turn my head around to try and see where exactly I wound up.

I can tell that it’s her arm pressing against my back. Her hands were already full, so the only way she could break my fall is by squashing me against herself like this.

Squashing me against… her… tit.

Yep. Now I get why she’s so flustered. I can feel my own face heating up.

This is either the worst or the best day of my life. Maybe both.

The Angel clears her throat. “Um, we are a-almost there! Let us hurry!”

Wait, she’s not gonna pull me back up first—Whoa!

She’s on the move again, and I feel utterly helpless. My arms are pinned, and my legs wouldn’t do me any good even if they worked right now. I can’t look ahead, either. All I can do is bury my face into her… Well, into her, and hope for the best. My whole world is shaking like an earthquake.

At some point midway, the pressure keeping me in place loosens up too much. I feel my body beginning to slide and let out a very manly and brave cry of alarm. She responds immediately by pressing her arm against my back even harder, stopping my descent but burying me even further into her breast. It’s getting hard to breathe…

I can barely see anything now, and black spots begin to dance around my vision. I was already in bad shape, so this is all too much for my body to bear… I…

“I beg of you, awaken,” I hear the Angel say.

My eyes flutter open. I see her face looming above me, her hood down, forehead gleaming with anxious sweat and tiny rain droplets, eyebrows knitted together. Her expression softens when she sees that I am conscious.

“Oh, thank goodness, you are alright.”

“In a manner of speaking,” I say with a wince. The blessing is clearly wearing off, and now my everything hurts. I look around and see that I’m being cradled in her hands again. She’s kneeling in what I recognize to be the parking lot just outside the hospital.

“I cannot apologize enough for this… incident. I promised to rescue you, to offer you safe passage, yet I very nearly claimed your life. And in such an unseemly way, too…” Her body is perpetually framed in light, but now her cheeks are glowing red too, and her eyes are wide with various emotions. Her reserved demeanor from earlier is nowhere to be seen. “I would also ask that you forgive my disorderly appearance at the moment. It has been a very long time since I have had such intimate contact with anyone, and it was quite sudden,” she confides in me.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” I tell her.

“Not with beings such as I. We are supposed to be above such… flaws.” She casts her eyes to the ground. “And that is not the end of my mistakes tonight. I should have handed you over to the hospital as soon as I got here, but I wanted to save you myself. I gave you special treatment because I grew attached to you. I am selfish and a disgrace. It is no wonder that I was exiled.”

I sit there awkwardly in her cupped hands, not knowing what to say to make her feel better. The drizzling rain still isn’t letting up.

I decide to change the subject. “Where’d those other people you were carrying go?”

“They are currently being attended to by the hospital staff. Them and I have an agreement to keep my existence a secret so that I can save humans in this manner,” she says.

“I see—Augh!” My face involuntarily scrunches up as a sharp pain courses through my abdomen. It’s getting worse by the second. “I think I better head in as well, then.”

She smiles sadly. “Yes. I am glad to see you off safely, at least. By means of apology, I shall ensure that your recovery will progress smoothly and with minimal pain. Goodbye to you, little one.”

“Ah, but, before you go,” I say, raising a hand. She raises her eyebrows in surprise and curiosity. My vision starts to swim, I don’t have much time, but this is my only chance to ask. “Will I ever… see you again?”

She pauses for a moment, then closes her eyes. “Worry not. I will always watch over you from afar.”

“That’s not… what I meant…” I say between ragged breaths. The pain is even worse than I remember. “You shouldn’t… have to be alone… I want to—”

“Ssssshhh,” she shushes me. “Do not fret over me. I will be alright. You, however, must rest now. Good night.”

Before I can manage to force out any further words, she brings me up to her lips and buries my face in them.

I am in heaven again. In an instant, the pain is gone.

The next instant, so am I.

Slowly, my senses come back to me. I carefully raise my head and look around groggily for a few seconds. My eyes are still bleary, but I soon recognize that I am lying in a bed in a hospital room. How’d I wind up here again?

I hear footsteps echo down the hall. The owner of those footsteps, a woman in a white coat holding a clipboard, steps into the room not long after

“Ah, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” she says to me.

“Well, a bit sore, but mostly confused. What happened to me, exactly?”

“You were involved in a hit-and-run accident. It makes sense that you don’t remember it, since you suffered a minor concussion and lost consciousness en route to the hospital.”

“Oh,” I manage to utter as I attempt to process that. After a few seconds, I think of a good question to ask. “Any complications or lasting injuries I need to worry about?”

“There were some internal injuries in your abdomen and bruising across your body, but they will heal completely with a little bedrest,” she explains, studying the clipboard she’s holding. “Your legs suffered the most severe injuries. When you arrived here, they had multiple fractures and were seriously bent out of shape.”

My eyes widen. I look to the foot of my bed for the first time and only now notice that they are indeed covered in casts. “Is it… Am I going to recover from this?” I ask, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes, I have good news about that,” she says as she looks at me with a reassuring smile. “The bones have set properly, and there appears to be no lasting damage. It looks as if you’ll make a full recovery, and much faster than expected at that! Doctors are calling it a miracle.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding as I collapse back into my pillow. “Oh thank God.”

“You’ve been unconscious for a while, so we’ll be monitoring your health for now,” the woman tells me. I guess she’s a nurse. “But the prognosis is excellent. It’s likely that you’ll be able to leave the hospital quite soon.”

“Well, that’s… great! It sounds like I got really lucky.”

“Someone must’ve been watching over you,” the nurse quips.

“Haha, I guess so. I think I actually had a dream that an angel came to save me,” I tell her. I don’t know what compelled me to mention that. Might be because I’m still lightheaded.

“I’ll tell the paramedics that. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the compliment,” she says with a wink.

“One more thing: Any hospital bills I should worry about after this?”

“It’s already been taken care of, no need to worry,” she tells me. Alright then? “In any case, I should leave you to rest now.”

She turns to leave. Some subconscious part of my mind screams at me to speak up. “Wait!”

The nurse looks back at me with a quizzical look. “Yes, is something the matter?”

I only just now notice that her eyes are a really unusual golden color. It’s strange—Don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone with eyes like that, yet they somehow seem familiar. I stall for a second or three, having completely forgotten what I wanted to say.

“Uh, just—Thank you, I guess,” I eventually manage to utter.

She smiles again, cradling the clipboard to her chest. “You’re welcome.”

Today I’m finally getting discharged from the hospital. Well, I say ‘finally,’ but given how grave my injuries apparently were it really is a miracle I’m able to leave so soon. And on my own two feet, no less.

I never saw the nurse who greeted me when I first woke up again. I asked some of the other staff about her but they didn’t know who I was talking about. Strange, that. Shame, too—I’ve had her on my mind a lot while I’ve been lying around. I think I would’ve liked to get to know her better.

Oh well. Better luck next time.

On my way home, I keep having this weird feeling of being followed, as if someone’s watching me. I even looked behind me a couple times but I never saw a glimpse of anyone. Didn’t make the feeling go away. It’s as if I can sense something—or someone—looming over me, even though the street before my eyes is vacant.

The weirdest thing, though, is that it’s not an unnerving feeling. If anything, I feel comforted. I’ve never been religious, but now I can’t help but think there must be someone watching over me, like that nurse said. It’s a pleasant thought.

That night, as I’m settling into bed in my apartment, I catch a glimpse of her—the angel I remember from my dreams. Her eye peers through my window, settles on me for a few seconds, then relaxes and pulls back. I hop out of bed and stumble to my window but she’s nowhere to be seen.

She’s there, though. I know it, even if I can’t confirm it. Smiling upon me, pleased and relieved that I made it home safe.

I smile back and wave at her.

I stare out to sea. It is what I have always done.

Well. Not always. For a long time, at least. I do not know how long precisely. Time means nothing to a being such as I.

Nearly as long as this town has existed, at least. I arrived here when it was only just emerging as a maritime trade port. Precious few people knew then that I am no ordinary statue.

None alive know today. I am good at staying still. I have had much time to practice.

I watch. The ships enter and leave the harbor. Ships today are impressive in scale, but ugly and inelegant.

I had thought my patience infinite, but it seems even I grow bored when there is nothing of interest to look at.

 For lack of anything interesting to focus on, I begin to reminisce. I would close my eyes for it, but someone might notice.

I was created in Greece. How long ago, I cannot say—time means nothing. Much longer ago than I have stood at this harbor.

My creator was a master artisan and inventor. He had loved and lost. His only daughter was dead—taken and murdered in the night by brigands. So, he made me. It is the Gods’ cruel sense of humor, one might suppose—to take his daughter away just give him the spark of inspiration to create a new one using his talents alone.

“You, my child, shall never perish. Your bronze skin will not rust, your wooden bones will not rot,” he told me when I first opened my eyes.

He was right. My body has yet to show signs of decay. He made me that way so that I would never have to leave him.

 When I first learned that he fashioned me in the likeness of another girl—my elder twin sister? —I went to a nearby lake to study my reflection. Not to admire it, but to learn what she must have looked like. I am of slender build, with wiry limbs and firm shoulders; My sister was evidently no stranger to daily labor. My cheeks appear soft and smooth, belying the unyielding metal they are fashioned from, yet my pointed eyebrows give me a naturally austere expression. I wear a tunic and a mantle, but no sandals or other footwear.

Still, we are not precisely alike in appearance. My hair is styled in the same side braid as she had… But whereas my creator had mentioned his daughter as having raven hair, mine is the same shiny bronze color as my skin—as are my eyes and everything else. My clothes, also. Since I cannot take them off, they may as well be my skin.

There is one other notable difference: I am some seventy-five cubits tall. None would think to abduct me—and if they did, they would regret it.

We spent our days together in solitude, in a forested mountainside where none would disturb us. He would attend to his daily chores; I would sit and watch and attempt to fathom the world around me. Occasionally I asked him questions and he answered them to the best of his ability.

“What is happiness? Are we happy?” I once asked.

“We live without want. I have you, whom I hold dear. And I am loved by you in turn. Though I still grieve, I am happy. I hope you are too,” he had said in reply.

He was right. I was happy—fulfilled. I wanted him to know that, to express my gratitude for having brought me into such a serene existence, but lacked the words to do so. Instead, I picked him up one day and hugged him to my cheek. Gently; I was aware that I could easily crush him. He was surprised, but thankful.

Yet his definition of happiness did not account for one thing, a fatal flaw in his plan for our existence together. His own skin and bones grew brittle with age.

I had to leave him anyway. He went where I cannot follow. I hope his first daughter is with him.

For a time I sat still. I held his remains in my hands until they were nothing but bones. I was made to give company to my creator, and now that creator was gone. As was my purpose, my happiness. For the first time I felt as hollow as my body is.

Then I reminisced, as I do now. I remembered the conversations we had. Considered them over and over. Eventually, I concluded that if I had no purpose any longer, I ought to find a new one.

So I thought it over again. But no matter how long I thought, I could not decide on an answer that convinced me.

I changed my approach. If I cannot find a purpose within me, then perhaps it can be found somewhere out there. For the first time, I ventured out into the world I had wondered about all my life.

I have no heart, no breath, yet I felt trepidation all the same.

 

I wandered the land. My footfalls left deep marks in the fields and grasslands I passed through. I saw many human settlements and thought about trying to speak to them, to learn about them. But whenever I approached, the humans would hurry into their homes and not reemerge until I left.

I wondered why, at first. Once, I lifted the roof off of a human hut. The occupants shrieked in terror and hid under their table. I understood then that my appearance frightened humans.

Is it because I am so tall and strong compared to them, or because they had never seen one such as I before? But I have never seen one such as myself before either, and yet my own appearance does not frighten me when I see it on the water’s surface. It must be the former. I supposed that I might also fear a creature that had the power to destroy me with an errant movement, had I ever met any.

I decided then to leave humans alone as much as I could, giving settlements a wide berth and staying off of roads whenever that was possible. Sometimes my presence frightened humans despite my best efforts, and that fright became anger, and they would chase after me.

But I walk with great strides and never tire, so no human could keep up with me. Not even on horseback.

My creator had told me about the world. Bits and pieces. Yet on my journey I saw many things I did not understand. Was there so much he did not tell me about? Or had the world changed since he was alive? It is a difficult thing for me to fathom. Change is alien to me.

I passed mountains, coasts, forests. I realized I was not in Greece any longer. I kept walking. It did not matter where to.

 

Eventually I had reached a distant land, and I ran into the sea once again. I still had not found a purpose. I decided to stop and sit down on a hillside and ponder what I had learned during my journey.

Humans passed by the place where I sat. Curiously, they were not frightened by me this time. Some even seemed to pause to admire my beauty. I learned then that I was not deemed a threat as long as I remained perfectly still.

I knew not where else to go, so I remained where I was. The locals grew accustomed to my presence. On a number of occasions human children attempted to scale me. Those who were successful would sit on my shoulder for a while and then climb down again. It was strangely exciting: What were their intentions? Would they fall and get hurt? I hoped not. I tried even harder to remain still so as not to frighten them. I appreciated their company, however brief.

I do not know precisely how long I sat there. Time is meaningless to me. Days or years, months or decades, weeks or centuries. Judging from what I know of human lifespans, though, it was most likely the latter—I saw many generations grow old.

The humans who lived in the area and the infrequent traveler would use the shade I provided as a meeting place, or my toes as a bench to rest upon. It did not bother me. They would hold conversations there. I learned their unfamiliar language by listening closely and recognizing context clues. Soon I knew enough to overhear that I was in a place called Spain, and the sea I looked out over was called the Atlantic Ocean.

Eventually I began receiving visits from humans who spoke different languages. These foreign visitors soon became more and more frequent. Did they come all that way to meet me? But none spoke to me directly or attempted any other method of communication with me.

They did still have conversations in my presence, however, and so I continued to learn. They were visitors from Portugal, from France, from Morocco, from England. I began to learn their tongues as well.

Often times, the first words I could recognize from each language were those meaning ‘beautiful’ or synonyms thereof. I will confess to some vanity: It was flattering to hear the admiration of so many. If my cheeks could blush, they would have given me away. Was my purpose to be admired like this? Yet that answer felt too shallow to be satisfying.

Some wondered aloud where I had come from, or who had created me. I considered answering their questions but decided against it. After all, they only dared come near me as long as I remained still, and I had learned that humans became aggressive when frightened.

So I sat and thought and listened. I wondered if this was to be my life from now on. My skin was frequently besmirched by the elements, the wildlife, and at times unruly humans, but periodically the locals would clean me, clambering all over me and polishing me until I looked like new. It felt nice to be appreciated.

 

One night, however, a visitor would change that routine. Once again—change is a curious, alien sensation, but looking back, I am glad for it.

This visitor was from further away than any whom I had heard before, but he spoke the same language as those from England. He was a pale, gangly man with a pensive demeanor. He had come alone, at a time of night when I rarely had any company besides nocturnal creatures.

He spoke to me, or rather, spoke at me. A monologue of sorts. Spoke of his worries and why he was here. He had been born into a wealthy family. Lived an early life free of want, as I had. Had lost his parents, like I lost my creator. Was now alone in the world.

“Now my peers have elected me to lead some newly founded trading port called Mammotham as its second mayor,” he said, voice wrought with weariness. “I do not know why—because they believe I am my father, I suppose. But I have nothing of value to contribute in such a role. I feel as if I have been cajoled into a purpose I am entirely unsuited for. That is why I am here in Europe… Before my responsibilities come to tie me down, I wished to make a journey. To run away, perhaps, but mostly to discover myself. Yet… I cannot run forever.”

I considered that for a moment. I had been looking for a purpose, and this man was running away from it, and we both wound up here.

I made a snap decision, then, to confide in him as he did to me. For the first time since I had sat down on that hillside, I moved my head to look at him. I smiled gently, hoping it would reassure him.

It took him a moment to notice that I had moved. When he did, it startled him, as I imagined it would.

“Did you just move?” he asked. “Are you alive?”

I nodded.

“Good Lord! Have I gone mad? Has imagination claimed my senses?!”

I shook my head.

Once he accepted that what he saw was real and that I meant him no harm, he spoke again, this time to me. And for the first time since I was separated from my creator, I spoke too.

Despite our considerable differences, we found it easy to find common ground. His way of thinking differed from mine, but I appreciated that. I told him of my own journey to find purpose. As the hour grew late, he announced that he had to leave and rest for the night, but he swore that he would return.

And he did the very next evening before sunset. He sat at my feet and spoke with me again.

It was hard to see him very well, and I imagined it was not pleasant for him to look up at me from all the way down by my toes. I remembered the children who would sit on my shoulder. So, after some sparse conversation, I asked him.

“Would you like to come up here and observe the world from my vantage point?”

He looked hesitant. But then he said, “That would be an unforgettable experience. As long as it is safe, I would be delighted.”

He climbed onto my palm once I lowered it down for him. I had not done this since my creator was alive. For a moment, the deep feeling of loneliness left me.

Once he was settled on my shoulder, he did not speak. He simply watched as the sun’s last rays faded and the moon rose. Sat still, looked out to the ocean, and thought, as I did. For how long, I do not know. Time is meaningless.

Eventually he sighed with great contentment and said “Thank you.” What happened next, I will never forget. He stood up straight, balancing on my shoulder, carefully paced up to the side of my head, and embraced my neck.

It is made of unyielding bronze. Cold and hard. I have learned that humans prefer to embrace things that are soft and warm. Yet he pressed himself against my skin as if it were the finest silk.

It perplexed me. “What brought you to do that?” I asked him once he let go.

He simply laughed. “The expression on your face right now is too precious for words,” he told me instead of answering my question. “For such a tall woman, you are positively adorable.”

The response deepened my confusion. Many had called me beautiful, stately, fierce—But none had ever said THAT to me. For several seconds, I did not realize my mouth was open. His laugh grew heartier. “Do not mock me,” I warned.

The feeling did not displease me, however. It defies explanation.

We had more conversations, and more nights of silent gazing in each other’s company.

One evening he had an announcement. “It is time I returned home,” he said. “I would like to thank you. It is because of you that I now feel ready to face the responsibilities thrust upon my shoulders.”

I did not feel like I had done much but silently accepted his thanks nonetheless.

That was not all, however. “I have a proposal,” he continued. “Last night I was struck by an idea. Perhaps I have a way to answer your yearning for purpose, if you are interested. For this plan to work, however, you will need to join me on my return voyage across the ocean.”

But how, I thought. I could wade through rivers and crest mountains with ease, but to cross an ocean was an exercise even I dared not attempt. Swimming, I feared, is simply beyond me. I would surely sink to the ocean floor as a brick would—and I dared not discover what that would do to me. I voiced these concerns to him.

“I have a solution for that, too. I would ask that you trust me. If you do, please come to the docks at the beach tomorrow after midnight.”

Out of curiosity, I did as he asked. There he presented me with the ship that was to provide his passage home. A curious vessel, made of metal and lacking sails. Quite different from what I had understood ships to look like.

“It is the state-of-the-art in shipbuilding, capable of carrying enormous amounts of cargo without fear of sinking. I have spoken to the ship’s captain and he has assured me that carrying a statue of your size with us would not be an issue,” he explained.

I wished to ponder this. Would the Spanish locals miss me? Was it truly wise to board this vessel? But I had to choose then and there. The ship would soon leave. For once, time was scarce. It was a strange feeling.

So I decided: Staying in Spain any longer would do me no better than had I remained in Greece forever. This was a rare opportunity. I had to trust this young man who had become my only friend. He said he wanted to help me find my purpose, and I wished to believe in him.

Thus it was that I knelt on the deck of the ship. The floor groaned under my weight but held firm. With my permission, my friend secured my body with a plethora of strong ropes to ensure I would not easily fall over.

A crew of sailors appeared once the sun rose and set about preparing the ship for departure. I remained still so that they would not be alarmed. Some stopped to look at me, but none seemed surprised by my presence. I assume my friend made an arrangement with them.

The ship cast off. We were out at open sea. The metal beneath my knees shuddered without cease. I felt another emotion I had no prior experience with: Fear. None could harm me; my creator had made sure of that. But I knew that if I fell overboard somehow, I would never reemerge from the watery depths. I had yet to determine where I wished to spend the rest of eternity, but it was certainly not at the bottom of the sea.

Whenever the deck was vacant, my friend would appear before me. It was as if he could sense my unease. He spoke reassurances, promised that I would be alright, come what may. I looked at his small form before my knees, utterly engulfed by my shadow, and knew that there would be nothing he could do to help me in the event of disaster befalling the ship. Yet his words still comforted me, somehow.

Eventually the ship ground to a halt. I cautiously looked up. We had come ashore at Mammotham—the town I still call home today.

It was but a modest settlement back then, yet already preparing to expand. I was escorted to an empty cobblestone square overlooking the harbor under the cover of night and instructed to strike a pose, facing the sea.

“You shall serve as a symbol for this town. An inspiration, a guiding light,” my friend said to me. “In time, the citizens will grow to love you as their pride and joy.”

That did sound nice. But would I truly help anyone by merely standing here, I wondered? Still, I had managed to inspire my friend all the same, simply by being there. Perhaps those were his thoughts when he brought me here.

So I stood there as instructed. I grew used to my surroundings. For once, time meant something: Day by day, I would see the harbor before me change, the little human workers wandering about at my feet.

My friend kept visiting me regularly for as long as he yet lived. I could not move my head to meet his eyes down below, lest someone notices, but I would hear his voice. Holding conversations as we once did was impossible like this, but I enjoyed his company. It helped me settle into my new environment.

The town continued to grow, to change, but I could only see the small part of it that lay before me. I have had to infer what the rest of it behind me looks like. I remember when they first introduced electricity in the form of street lights. The city would be bright at all hours from then on. I marveled when I saw them turn on for the first time.

That was when my friend gave me a gift, too: A stone torch, outfitted with an electric beacon made to resemble a flame. Quite ingenious. “So that you may continue to serve as a guiding light at all hours,” he had said.

Beside the gift of being created, for which I remain eternally thankful, I had never received a present before. I felt loved. Truly, I was home at last.

But my happiness was fleeting. The torch was to be a parting gift. Eventually my friend stopped visiting. I later overheard from passers-by that he had succumbed from illness. Time had separated me from those I care about once more. I was surrounded by humans at all times now, but I felt as lonely as when my creator had perished.

Many years must have passed since then. I have tried to settle into my role. But it seems today that I am increasingly forgotten—I am less of a symbol and more of a relic. This part of town seldom sees visitors anymore, and it is even rarer that they have anything nice to say about me.

“What’s this thing here, anyway?” I heard a tourist say the other day.

“Says here on this sign that she’s meant to represent the Greek goddess Athena,” another read out.

A sign? Now who put that there? It’s patently false, at any rate—I bear no resemblance to the Goddess. Oh, how I wish I could correct them. But if I move or speak…

“She reminds me a little of that statue in New York,” the first tourist remarked.

“Yeah. Only this one’s smaller and made of bronze.”

Another statue that looks like me, and even bigger than I am. Is she alive too, I wonder? I should like to meet her one day if so. Does she also tire of seeing the same thing day in, day out?

“Seems like this thing is a poor man’s version they made to attract tourists like us to this city,” one of them said snidely. “The only thing this one’s got going for it is that she’s got nice legs, but only kind of. C’mon, let’s go look at something more interesting.”

How brazenly rude! They would not dare say such things in my presence if they knew what I was capable of. I have half a mind to stomp my feet and give them a scare, just once. Who would believe them? But I think better of it. It takes tremendous willpower to keep my brow from furrowing as they leave.

I try to forget the encounter and sink back into reverie as time passes me by. ‘The citizens will grow to love you as their pride and joy,’ he said… What a fool I was to believe that. Perhaps this journey I have taken was all a mistake, and I was better off never having moved from my spot back in Greece.

 

I snap out of my thoughts when all of a sudden, everything goes dark. Everything, save the lights on the passing ships in the distance.

A power outage. I have seen this happen a few times before. At this hour in the dead of night, it means the city streets are almost completely dark for once.

I listen. Nobody’s around.

This is… my chance. The burning curiosity I have kept repressed as I stood here all these years can finally be answered. Do I dare turn around and see what’s behind me?

Slowly I move my head. I confirm that there is nobody at my feet. Then I turn around.

When I first arrived in Mammotham, there was but a single building in the entire town that matched my height. I could easily look over the roofs of the houses to the surrounding landscape. Now, however, the buildings that lined the street before me made even me feel puny. I cannot imagine how humans must experience walking through here.

Not a single person in sight, still. I cautiously step out of the square I have occupied for so long and onto the road. Thankfully it does not crack beneath my feet. The road runs perpendicular to the square. It is a moonless night and therefore nearly pitch dark, but my eyes can adjust to such conditions quite well.

I peer past one of those tall buildings flanking me. The street is truly abandoned. The humans who work here have long since gone home. I see some metal vehicles parked in neat rows nearby—cars, I believe they are called. I have heard them often but seldom see them. I move closer to inspect them and in my enthusiasm nearly stumble—I am out of practice when it comes to walking, it seems.

I stoop down to pick up one of the smaller ones. It is lighter than I expected. I turn it over in my hand and peer at the inner workings beneath. Human ingenuity fascinates me—my existence sprang from it, after all. Still, I wonder if the humans of today could make anything like me if they tried. My creator was a one-of-a-kind master of his craft, even if he had none of the tools that modern craftsmen have at their disposal. Now that he was dead, only I knew the secret of my creation.

My concentration is interrupted when I hear a loud gasp from somewhere nearby. I look in the direction of the sound and see the dark silhouette of a little girl huddling against a wall, staring at me.

It seems I have been spotted.

Before I can think of a good response, the girl opens her mouth and shrieks. It is so startling that I nearly drop the car I was studying. I quickly place it back where I found it and scoot away from the terrified child.

“Who’s there?!” she wails. “I can’t see anything! I’m lost, and cold, and then the lights went out, and now there’s a monster… I just wanna go ho-o-o-ome!”

I try not to panic as the poor girl breaks down into loud sobs. She cannot see; if only I had a light for her… Oh, but of course! The torch! It has practically become an extension of myself, so I had completely forgotten I was still carrying it in my other hand.

It has its own generator. Usually it turns on and off by itself, but there is also a breaker for manual operation… Now, where was it again… Ah, there! I carefully flick it with my nail. A bright light promptly begins emanating from the torch, illuminating the street around me.

“Ah!” the girl gasps and shields her eyes from the harsh light. She rubs at her face for a moment, then lowers her arm and stares at my face in wonder with curious brown eyes. She’s wearing an adorable yellow dress, and her frizzy black hair has a little bow in it.

“You’re not a monster,” she says. “You’re that statue that’s always by the water!”

“That is correct,” I tell her, and try to send her a calm smile. If she knows who I am, then perhaps I can get her to trust me.

Her eyes widen even further. “You can talk?!”

I nod. “What are you doing here by yourself, little girl?”

“Umm, well, I…” She bashfully buries her face in her knees. “I kinda ran away from home ‘cause I was mad at my mom. But then I got lost and now I feel really dumb about it. And then it got dark out of nowhere…”

“I see. Is your mother looking for you right now?”

“Uh-huh, probably,” she nods and sits up straight. “Um, I’m Ashley. What’s your name, Miss Statue?”

“N-Name?” I blink, perplexed. How has that never occurred to me in all these years? “I do not think I ever got a name. Never really needed one, I suppose.”

Ashley taps a finger to her cheek. “You know, I went to visit you a while ago with my mom, and she told me the sign by your feet says you look like someone named Athena. Does that help?”

“Those are lies someone made up. I do not look like the Goddess at all. I look like my older sister, and no one else!” I say insistently.

To my surprise, the girl giggles a little. “Haha, you look very serious, but you’re actually kind of silly when you’re upset, Miss Athena!”

“That’s not my name!” My mouth scrunches up in frustration. This child does not listen at all!

But oh well. At least she is not upset any longer. I calm myself with that thought.

“Say, it is not good for children to be out alone so late. Even I know this much,” I tell her. “You said you visited me before. Do you think you know the way home from there?”

Her face becomes anxious again. “I, I don’t know. It’s so dark now.”

“That is quite alright. If you like, you can stay with me while we wait for someone to find you. They might be drawn to the light of my torch,” I suggest.

Ashley nods. “Sure, okay! My mom said I shouldn’t go with strangers, but you’re not a stranger, are you, Miss Athena?”

I feel a twinge of annoyance that the name has apparently stuck, but I try to keep it off my face. “Certainly. Shall we go?”

She hops to her feet and dusts off her dress, but then gasps as her face lights up with excitement. “Wait! Can I ride on your shoulder, Miss Athena? You’re so tall! I bet the view is amazing from up there!”

“Well, I suppose it is…” I consider it. I have had children climb onto me before, but that was when I was sitting still. Yet if it would put her at ease, then perhaps… “Alright, as long as you promise to be careful.”

I lower my free hand to her and she climbs on. “Wow, you have strong hands, don’t you, Miss Athena?” She taps her little fist against my bronze skin and it makes a hollow metal noise. I cannot help but feel endeared by her curiosity.

Slowly and carefully, I stand back up to my full height. I bring my hand over to my shoulder and she clambers on, sidling up against my neck.

“Are you settled in?” I ask.

“Yup!” Ashley pats her little hand against me to confirm it.

I retrace my route back the way I came, one step at a time, making sure to keep my shoulders steady and upright. I hold out my torch in front of me to light up the path ahead, making sure there is no one else around that I might step on.

Soon enough we are back at my spot. Out of habit, I stop to gaze out to sea.

“Wow. Everything looks so tiny from up here,” Ashley remarks. “Sucks that I can’t see much right now, though, since it’s so dark. And you get to see this every day, Miss Athena! You’re so lucky.”

“I wonder about that sometimes,” I say. “Lately I have felt rather lonely and forgotten. Every day is spent in solitude.”

“Sah-lee-tude,” she repeats. I suppose she might not be familiar with that word yet. “Does that mean you don’t have any friends?”

I close my eyes. “I did have a friend, once. He brought me here. But he has passed away long ago, leaving me all alone.”

“Aww, it’s okay, Miss Athena. I’ll be your friend! I can come visit you every so often.”

“That is kind of you, but I do not know if my heart can take losing you as well,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“You are a human, I am not. Humans grow old and sick while only I remain. It is the way of things.” And the humans of today care not for me, it seems. Being alone is just my fate, I suppose.

Ashley thought about my words for a moment, looking to the ground far beneath us. She seemed troubled. I realize too late that burdening one so young as her with awareness of her own mortality may have been too cruel of me.

Before I can apologize, though, she looks up and declares, “I wish I was like you.”

“Hmm?”

“A statue, I mean. Big and strong and always young. And so pretty! People could look at me and feel brave because I’d support them. And I could do that forever.”

It has been a while since someone said nice things about me, so I smile at her. Still, I had better correct her lofty view of what my life is like. “I do not think you would like that very much. As I said, it is a lonely existence,” I remind her.

“But that’s exactly why,” she insists. “One day I’ll die too, and then I can’t be friends with you anymore. But if I were the same as you, then we could be together forever. You could be my big sis! I always wanted a sister.”

A sister… I wish I could have met mine.

I break out of my thoughts when Ashley begins coughing. “Are you alright?” I ask.

She shivers so much that I can feel it. “It’s the wind. It’s so cold,” she says.

Ah, of course! I cannot feel the wind, so it does not bother me, but a child like Ashley should not be exposed to the elements for too long. Being all the way up here is not helping matters.

“Please hold on,” I announce as I carefully lower my body to the ground and sit down, keeping my free hand near her tiny body in case she falls. Once I am settled in, I very gently pick her up by her waist with two fingers and bring her to my stomach, cradling her against it.

For the first time I curse my lack of human flesh and blood. My metal body has no warmth to give. Still, I hope that this at least shields her from the wind. If only my torch had a real flame.

“Thanks, Miss Athena,” she murmurs, then has another coughing fit.

I hold my torch aloft. Hopefully someone will see it and come investigate. I am at a loss about what to do in this situation. Should I go to seek help? But I would not know where to look. Remaining still and waiting is all I have ever done.

So we wait. I do not know how long. Ashley coughs a few more times, but then her breathing slows. I look down and see that she has fallen asleep, arms and head resting against my finger. What is that human saying, “It is so cute I could melt?” I am glad it is only a figure of expression, or I would have been reduced to slag by now. I just hope that she will be alright.

Eventually my waiting is interrupted by a voice. “Ashley! Ashley, are you there?!” I hear a woman calling.

I feel the tiny girl spring to life in my hand. “Mom…? Mom, I’m here!”

“Oh thank the Lord above. Where are you, honey? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m with Miss Athena!” Ashley yells back.

I take away my hand and the girl slides down my body to my lap, where she carefully climbs down to the ground. In the meantime a woman in a professional-looking suit appears from the sidewalk and runs up to Ashley as soon as she spots her, embracing her.

“Oh Ashley! Never do that again, you hear me? I was worried sick. Oh, you’re so cold, we need to get you home. Here,” she says as she takes off her jacket and drapes it over the girl. “I’m sorry I took so long to find you. Were you scared in the dark all by yourself?”

“A little,” Ashley admitted. “But I wasn’t alone! Miss Athena came to find me! She’s very nice, Mom!”

Ashley’s mother gives her a quizzical look. “Who’s Miss Athena, then?”

Ashley rolled her eyes and pointed at me. “The statue, of course! She’s right there where she always is! How did you miss her, she’s so tall!”

The woman looks up at me. I wave awkwardly at her, and she recoils in surprise. “Oh my God!”

“Um, nice to meet you, I suppose,” I say.

Ashley’s mother looks at me, then at her daughter’s beaming smile, then back at me. “L-Likewise. Sorry, I was not aware that you were… alive,” she eventually manages. “My name’s Faith, I’m Ashley’s mom. So, um… Am I to understand that you looked after her for me?”

I nod. “It was my pleasure. She is a kind girl. I apologize that I was not able to keep her warm, but I am glad she is safe now.”

“Yes, well… Thank you, I suppose,” she hesitantly says to me. Then Ashley has another coughing fit. “Ah, sorry, it was nice meeting you, but we really should be getting home now.”

“Right you are. Goodbye, Ashley,” I smile and wave at her as Faith begins guiding her away.

She waves back, then turns to her mother. “Mommy, can we visit Miss Athena tomorrow, please?”

“Not with your cough acting up again, dear. You’ve been out for far too long.”

“But mooom! She’s lonely! I’m her only friend right now!”

“Well, she’s a big girl. She can handle being alone for a while. If she’s your friend, she’ll understand that your health comes first.”

They have left my earshot, and I am alone again. I rise to my feet and strike my usual pose, holding the torch aloft. Soon after the streetlights finally blink back on. Then they blink off again when the sun rises, and back on when it sets.

 

A week passes without incident. Then one morning Ashley and her mother come by to visit me again. I cannot move this time lest the whole city knows my secret. Come to think of it, I suppose this means those two did not tell anybody about me. They speak to me at my feet, explain that Ashley has always had a weak constitution and that she had run away after getting fed up with being cooped up indoors all the time.

I wish I could join them in conversation. All I can do for now was listen. But then Faith remarks on my lack of response, suggesting that perhaps I am not alive after all and that they had both imagined our meeting, so I wiggle my toes in protest. Ashley immediately points it out with a giggle.

They leave again, then come back the week after. This routine keeps happening. Ashley has been telling me about how she’s doing and that she hopes I am doing alright as well. We have more in common than I thought: She spends a lot of time by herself due to her poor health, watching the city and its people go by from her apartment window. I begin trying to keep track of time going by so that I knew when she’ll come visit. Finally I have something to look forward to. The days going by means something now. I grow to care about the girl deeply, as if she were a younger sister to me.

Still, years pass me by all too quickly. Before I know it, two decades have elapsed and Ashley has grown into a wonderful young woman. She still visits me by herself, when she is well enough to. More often than not in the middle of the night. If we are lucky, no one is around and we can actually have a conversation. She sits on my shoulder and admires the view with me while I offer my thoughts about whatever is troubling her that night.

I worry sometimes that spending so many cold nights with me has had an adverse effect on her health. She got better for a while, her health improving to the point where, during her adolescence, it no longer restricted her so much—yet over the last year she has been falling ill again more and more often. She has confided in me that she is not long for this world, and that she has known this for a long time. Still, doctors had told her that she could not hope to see her twenty-fifth birthday at the rate her health deteriorates, so the fact that she is twenty-seven today is an achievement in itself.

One of many achievements, I should say. I have watched her graduate from college despite having had to miss many classes; become a famous, award-winning artist and activist for fair and equal treatment of Mammotham’s citizens; and win over the hearts of nearly the entire city in the process. To them, especially the lesser-fortunate, she has become a hero, a symbol—something I was supposed to be but never managed. Yet I am not jealous. If anything, I am immensely proud that she has done so much in such a short life.

 

And unfortunately, the day when I must bid her farewell has come sooner than I had hoped. I have not seen her in a month and fear the worst. Last night Faith appeared before me—something she has not done in a long time, especially not by herself or at that late hour. She works for the city council and has risen through its ranks these past twenty years, which spared her no free time to spend conversing with a statue.  But tonight she had an important message which confirmed my suspicions: Ashley may very well be on her deathbed.

She has but one last seemingly vain request. Yet when I hear it, I understand her intention right away, and it is far from selfish. I also understand why her mother has appeared before me: To have me divulge the secret of how I was created.

I do happen to know. It was one of the first things I asked my creator.

“It will not be her,” I warn. “For the same reason that I am not my sister. But it will carry on her legacy when she is gone.”

She nods in understanding and leaves again, having written everything I explained down in meticulous detail.

 

To my grief, Ashley succumbs before she has the chance to say goodbye to me. I spend weeks in despondency. My torch remains unlit. It feels as if the entire city is grieving alongside me.

But tonight her mother has come to visit me again, and she has not come alone. Many workers drape an enormous cloth over me. Tie me down. Wrap something around my waist—a cable attached to a crane’s hoist, I believe, but I cannot see. It is a disconcerting experience, though I trust that they have good intentions.

I am being transported somewhere. Not to the harbor, but deeper into the city. How exciting! I have never been this far in.

Eventually we stop, and I am placed back upright. The ropes and cloth are removed and I see that I am standing at the top of a number of steps, overlooking a large plaza lined with trees.

Faith is standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at me. She looks even smaller from this vantage point. “There, that will be all. Thank you for your hard work, you may go,” she tells the workers, and they seem pleased to head home. Soon enough it is just us.

Next, she addresses me directly. “Behind you is city hall,” she says. “This is to be your new home for the foreseeable future. For the both of you.”

The both of us? Then that means…

“You must be Athena. Nice to meet you… or to see you again, I guess,” a familiar cheerful voice to my right says.

I want to look, but is it safe? Is anybody watching?

“Go on,” the woman at the bottom of the steps reassures me.

I turn my head to the right. I am indeed standing in front of a building that reminds me a little of the temples back in Greece. It is just slightly taller than I am. So this is where the city’s government resides.

But that is not what catches my attention most. I am standing to the left-hand side of the building’s entrance, and over to the right, there is another statue…

“Hey, glad you made it,” the statue with Ashley’s face says to me.

I smile wider than I ever have. “I thought I’d never see you again,” I say.

She is just half a head taller than me. It is the first time in my life that I have had to look up at someone. She is truly gorgeous, fashioned from polished dark metal for her body, with lighter tones for the dress she has been immortalized in. Truly, she has come so far since I first met her.

I am overcome with emotion. If I had tears to spill…

She opens her arms invitingly and I happily embrace her. For once I do not have to fear crushing her. For once I get to experience the joy of being embraced back. She is here, and I never have to be alone again.

“I never imagined the city council would approve this,” I say, still burying my face into her shoulder.

“They almost didn’t,” Faith interjects. I had almost forgotten that she is still here. “I had to pull every string I had to get enough people on board, and even then… Making a statue of this scale is just taboo these days unless it’s of Jesus or something. But they made an exception since she’s come to mean so much to this city, and there was enough popular support for it. Her memory means something to a lot of folks.”

Ashley flashes a coy smile. “Thanks, mom. Love you.”

The human lady sighs wryly. “I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about all this, but I’m glad I could make my little girl happy one more time… In any case, it’s late, so I’m going to get some sleep now. You girls be back in position before the sun rises, got that?”

“Yes, mom,” Ashley and I say in unison.

 

So begins our new life. This Ashley—She decided to stick with that name—does not have the memories of her human counterpart, but she has the same personality, and I am happy to fill in the blanks for her when we get to talk at night. During the day we silently watch all the little humans come and go. There are so many more than I ever saw at my old spot.

“You can hear so many things just standing here and eavesdropping,” she remarks to me one night. “It makes me glad that at least some people are still fighting for what’s right… Though, it’s ironic that my reward for my activism is to become a piece of art myself and passively watch it all happen for the rest of time.” She giggles. “It’s almost funny when you think of it that way.”

I smile as well. “I suppose it is. But such is the way for our kind.”

“Maybe for you, since you’re so boring, Athena,” she teases. “But just so you know, if I hear something big going down and I’m the only one who can jump in, I’m doing it. Consequences be damned. You watch me.”

“Don’t,” I warn. “You’ll cause a panic.”

“Maybe I should! Sometimes shaking things up is a good thing.”

“Not that kind of shaking things up. Trust me.”

“’Trust me,’ as if you would know. You’ve been alive for like three thousand years and you never even dared to say ‘boo’ to someone.”

“Hey, I’m not that old!”

“Aren’t you always going on about how time means nothing to us? So what if I’m off by a few hundred years?”

“Well—Well, that just means that age doesn’t matter, so don’t bring it up!”

“Oh ho, struck a nerve. And here I thought you didn't have any. But sure. That means you’re not the older sister, since age doesn’t matter, hmm? But I’m the big sister, since I’m taller!”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work, oh Goddess of Wisdom?”

“For the last time—”

“That’s not who you are, I know!”

“Hmph! Then stop teasing me about it, will you?!”

Ashley has a laughing fit, leaning against one of the pillars of the city hall’s façade. It is a good thing it is quite sturdy.

“What’s so amusing?” I demand to know.

“The look on your face, of course!”

She continues giggling incessantly. It’s endearing. Despite myself, I smile and begin laughing too.

If anyone sees us like this, we are in a lot of trouble—but I cannot find it in myself to worry about that. So long as we’re together, I am so happy. And the whole world can see it for all I care.