Darol slammed his forearm against the ground, pushing down on it to drag himself forward across the carpet floor. The threads were thick to him, and the velvet colored rug popped out against his dark skin. His breath heaved as he used every ounce of strength he had left to drag his way to the door. It was only a little further for a normal sized person, but for him it might last all day. But that didn’t deter him. 

This isn’t happening. He thought, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Pain surged through his lower body. He couldn’t believe he was stepped on. His legs were nearly flattened and twisted. Blood oozed out with every stride forward. He would die if he didn’t make it outside.

“It’s been five days since the shrinking virus made its way over to America.” A lady news anchor on the tv said. The tv was so high up, it had been on since Darol and his family shrank. “New statistics received from the POW Research Center supports a correlation that suggests the shrinking virus disproportionately affects those of African descent. 97.5% of all reported cases have been black Americans, 1% latino, and under 1% Asian and Caucasion.”

A light colored hand reaches for the cable box and presses a finger into the power button. “We don’t need that anymore. If I thought that shitty tv was worth anything I’d take that too. But I guess I shouldn’t expect anything fancy from a house in a ghetto.” 

Darol tried to ignore the giant woman. Did she know Darol was still alive, or was she talking to herself? It didn’t matter. Darol was beginning to feel light headed. He would pass out soon. It would be impossible to make it to the door before that happened, so he changed his course to beneath the couch. It was a few inches to his left, but it was like crawling a mile.

He heard the giantess sorting through drawers behind him. She pocketed anything of value she found. Cracker bitch, if Darol ever got big again, he would make her pay.

“I don’t feel bad for taking these from you.” She said, pulling out jewels from the cabinet and shoving them in her clutch. “These probably weren’t yours to begin anyway. I bet you robbed them off some white woman who made the mistake of trusting you people. I’m just taking back what is ours.”

Her words cut Darol like a knife, hurting just as much as the needles shooting through his legs. Those were his deceased mother’s gems. He planned on giving them to his daughter when she was old enough. A tear escaped his eye as he finally reached the underside of the couch. 

“Daddy!” The piping voice of Darol’s son rang. Erick ran over to his father, hugging him at the waist. Darol winced at the pain.

“Honey…” Darol’s wife Sharol approached him. She took notice of his legs and cried. “Thank god you’re here. Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine.” Darol said, flipping over and sitting on his ass. “Where's Chantell?”

The two stood silently. A moment later, Erick raised his hand and pointed outwards from the couch. Darol looked out and watched the giant white legs walk from one side of the room to the other. Her footsteps were booming. From his small size, Darol could make out the bottom of the woman’s size 15 shoe sole; splattered and stained to the shoe was Darol’s 8 year old daughter Chantell. She was still wearing her pink and purple pajamas from the night before. Her crimson blood surrounded her flatten and deformed body. 

Darol broke down in tears. The only thought that calmed his mind was the fact that he would be with her soon. His injuries were too brutal for him to survive. 

“Our ancestors fought so hard to secure our freedom.” Darol spoke. “And now we were finally so close to securing complete and total equality. I thought we had created a world where our daughter could grow up and be happy, free from oppression, but now centuries of work and protest are reduced to nothing because of some foriegn virus. We’re once again nothing to the white person.”

“Don’t say that.” Sharol cried. “I know you’re grieving, but our fight is not over.” A larger shadow fell over them. Giant grey sneakers blocked their view from the couch. 

The shoes shifted, and the giant white girl went down to get a good look under the couch. “I thought there were more of you besides that girl. Poor child, having the misfortune of being born black. You lot should be thankful I spared her from such a miserable life.”

Her sparkling brown eyes glared down on them. Sharol shouted at the giant, but she couldn’t make out what she was saying. “Shouting as always. Is that all you whores can do?” The giant extended her long muscular arm under the couch and plucked the tiny woman up. She wasn’t careful with her grip, and accidentally squeezed Sharol’s left boob so hard that it popped. Sharol’s screams could be heard even after the giant deposited her into her clutch. 

“Mommy?” Erick wailed. Darol was speechless. He cried to himself, yearning for death. He couldn’t live with this pain and grief. Why couldn’t he bleed out any faster?

“A man and a little boy?” The giantess’s eyebrow propped up. “Well isn’t this rare. I’m actually proud of you for staying in your son’s life. I didn’t think your people were capable of that.”

Darol never thought once about leaving his daughter or son. He stared into the giantess’s evil eyes. She showed no pity or remorse. 

“What am I saying?” She continues, “You don’t want to raise that boy. He probably isn’t your kid anyway. His real daddy is probably locked away in jail for drug dealing. Here, since I’m feeling nice, I’ll spare you from having to raise a whore’s son.”

The giantess’s hand once again reached under the couch and loomed over the young Erick. He was only 10, so young. The giantess’s pointer finger and thumb gently wrapped around Erick’s head. They pressed into his temples, quickly turning Erick’s face red. He started to scream. “Daddy!” He yelled out. 

In an instant, the giant twisted her fingers, effectively twisting Erick’s head off his body. As his body fell limp to the floor, blood squirting out of his neck, the giantess pressed her fingers togethers, obliterating the young boy’s head between them. She rubbed her fingers against each other, letting blood and crushed skull fragments seep through her fingers. 

The sight was too much for Darol. He felt his heart go into cardiac arrest. He just watched his son be decapitated by this giant white woman, his daughter stepped on by her shoe, and he didn’t know the fate of his wife.

Through his sporadic vision, he saw the giantess’s blood stained hand rise above him. “I really shouldn’t kill so many of you so quickly, otherwise I won’t have any left when I get home, but your legs are already crushed. You’re already more useless than the rest of your kind, you stupid nigger.”

With that, she slammed her hand down, crushing the shrunken man to a pulp under her flawless skin. She rubbed her hand into the ground, reveling in the sound of Darol’s body being turned to dust under her. She dragged her hand out from under the couch, leaving a trail of the black man’s blood  on the carpet. 

The woman, named Kristina, stood up and wiped her hand on the side of her pants. “After I hit up the next few houses I should get one of the tinies to clean this filth off my hand and my shoe.” She laughed to herself. She hated the african race since she was a little girl, and seeing them gain more rights over the past few years really made her mad. But now she had the power to bring retribution upon them and bring them back to the slave age. 

Kristina smiled. She was going to show them all how superior the white race was.