Dawn had already broken, and the sun’s harsh rays were filtering through the window. A sliver of light came through and settled on my face. My eyes twitched at the intrusion, and then something that was almost a face flashed through my mind ­– the one that belonged to the giant that never wept.

That was more than enough to wake me up. I was upright now and just as tired as the night before. I always was. Sleep never brought me relief anymore. Despite the fact that I no longer had any reason to keep to a schedule, I still slept and woke at the same times every day, and it was strange for me to still be in bed at this hour.

I was going to walk to the windows downstairs to check the view, as I always did every morning, but this time the door across the way caught my attention instead. The clutter was cleared out of the way, and a set of footprints led to and from the door. They were an eerie reminder of the events of the night before. With the clutter cleared out of the way, the corner seemed strangely barren. I shook the unpleasant thoughts from my head and hurried down the stairs.

The kitchen looked almost the same as it always did, but there was something strange about it today. It took me a while of pacing back and forth until it hit me. The house, which was nearly packed floor to ceiling with clutter, had an ominously sparse section in the pantry. A cold sweat ran down my face as the hair on the back of my neck rose.

I always knew this day would come, but I refused to accept it. The pantry was almost empty, and I would be lucky if there was even enough food to last the rest of the day. Somehow, I had not noticed the food stores diminishing day by day. No, that wasn’t right. There was no way that I hadn’t noticed. I had deliberately refused to acknowledge that the food stores were dropping lower by the day.

Caught in shock, I ran on autopilot, too dazed to even process what had just happened to me. My coffee was brewed, and I had my breakfast the same way I always did, right across from the newspaper, which I couldn’t bear to move and no longer bothered to read. The final box dwindled… I’m not afraid.

Around noon, I watered my mother’s plants and read my favorite book, the same as I always did, but it didn’t feel the same this time. After lunch, the box dwindled again… I’m not afraid. Some time later, I found myself preparing for the futile task of fixing all the broken appliances and projects. However, the rusted hammer in the toolbox looked strangely tantalizing today. I stuck it in my tool belt and carried on with my day.

After dinner, the box dwindled once more… I’m not afraid. Normally, I would have gone straight to bed and stared once more at the broken ceiling fan that refused to turn and that I had no hope of ever fixing. However, today I strode over to that boarded-off door, hammer in hand, and ripped them out one by one. The hastily nailed boards fell to the floor one after another until there was nothing blocking my way other than the door itself.

Without hesitation, I yanked the door open and stepped inside. The moonlight was streaming in from the gaping holes in the roof. Scraps of metal and wood were protruding from the floor and walls. Carefully, I made my way to the center. There was a small clearing, perfectly clear of debris, almost like it was made just for me. Some sort of stain outlined the area, but I was too tired to care.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Fatigue overcame me, and like a tidal wave, I was swept under my exhaustion. I collapsed to the floor in a heap. My consciousness began to fade, and in my last moments of consciousness, I prayed. Please, God, don’t give me more than I can bear. Then, slowly, sleep carried me away.

That night, I found myself in the sky. My clothes whipped against my cold, clammy skin. As I descended through the clouds, night turned to dawn. Sunlight peaked through and illuminated the world beneath me. It looked so pitifully small. The houses were merely speckles across a war-torn land. There was nothing for miles other than toppled buildings in various states of disrepair and rubble partially reclaimed by nature.

Dawn turned to day as I continued descending towards the earth. My pace slowed, and time seemed to freeze as I moved almost in slow motion. What looked like small orbs floated up from the ground. They could have been considered hot air balloons if not for their breezy, billowing flesh. The flock of hot air balloons floated lazily past me, seemingly oblivious to my presence, and continued towards the heavens.

My hand shot up, and I waved at them reflexively. Their undulating eyes fixed on me in unison. Their bloated lips parted, and the corners rose as they bared their teeth to me. That was when I saw it—my eyes. Those were my own eyes staring at me. All those massive, disembodied heads wore my face.

They came closer and closer, enveloping me in a warm embrace. I felt loved then the same way a child does in the arms of their mother, but, in an instance, they vanished. I cried out for them to come back. The air around me felt painfully empty without their presence.

Then, as if to answer my call, the giant shook the ground with its thundering steps. I squinted, scanning the ruins until I found it. And then there it was, patiently waiting for me within the ruins of the place I once loved. Slowly, it turned its head, beckoning me to follow its gaze, and on the other side of its gaze, I found my house. I was coming home.

My feet touched the ground, and I made my way down the street with my hands stuffed in my pockets. Ordinarily, I would have been happy to come home, but tonight I felt something else instead. I kicked a small stone out of the way, and it rolled towards the center of the street, landing neatly by the one thing that always called me.

Its fluttering, colorful streamers waved lazily in the wind. There was something mesmerizing about that strange handlebar. Something about it called me, like it was begging me to come closer. Even the cracks that radiated out of it seemed to grow every day.

I shook the temptation from my head and walked up my front steps instead. It only took a light push for the door to clatter inward, kicking up a cloud of dust. Suddenly, the strong scent of must and mold assaulted me, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. My eyes watered from the stench. It smelled like neglect and rot, and then it transformed into a graveyard of everything I had lost.

My head swam, and my world turned sideways as I toppled down the steps. Before I knew it, I was in front of that strange handlebar again. My shaking hand reached out towards it, but with contact, I felt nothing but air. Again. I reached out and swatted at the handlebar, only for my fingers to phase right through it. No, again. Again. Again. Again!

I slammed my fist on the ground, scraping it against the asphalt until it bled. Was I asleep or awake? I didn’t want to know. Nothing was real anymore. Nothing made sense either. I was still stuck in a decrepit house on the street I grew up on. My food stores were dwindling by the day, and I couldn’t stand the place that I used to call home. Before I knew it, I was sprinting desperately away from my house, barefoot and bleeding.