The Giants of Michigan

Two boys sat indian style at the perimeter of a large lake, skipping stones. Had fate fused them together they might have composed a handsome lad; however they were singular beings and as such, plain as could be. The slighter of the two suffered a malformation - he played idly with his corrective footwear. He turned to the other -

"How's home?" Said the one.

"Eh." Said the other.

"Going back?"

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Definitely not tonight. Tomorrow, probably. You?"

"Mmhmm."

He glanced downward at his clenched hand, not realizing it had been so. He relaxed, let the stone drop and began to stretch his body back when a small elbow nudged him sharply in the side. 

"Look." Said the one.

"What?" Said the other.

The first boy gestured toward the silt. "Sleeping crane." He said.

"Oh." The other reached down, groping, his eyes on the slumbering avian. He grasped the stone and etched it back into his hand where its groove still remained. He could hear the other boy shift unevenly over himself searching for similar ammunition. Each got up as softly and quietly as he could. The first boy lumbered slowly, wishing up to heaven he didn't betray himself while the other slipped forward as though in a dream. There was a brilliance over his eyes. He proceeded as if he were gliding on air, seeing nothing and holding stones. Pockets heavy, they drew toward the shoreline with bated breath. An unspoken call to arms; fire. It was over in a few short moments of shivering reeds. 

"He's fidgeting." Said the one.

The other chose his aim arbitrarily and in such a manner delivered the death blow. He answered the query, what if I never woke up? He looked down at the thing. It was eerie and floating eerily still in darkening water. "Why won't you sink?" He demanded of water, wave and ripple. 

"Look." Said the one. 

"What?" The other asked. 

"Sleeping crane." He smiled.

They retreated into the dense forest that had been always at their backs, wandering for hours with no one to call them back. No fear of getting lost, for any route is a way out. Breaking into a sprint, they flew through the greenery like berserk birds, crushing brush underfoot, breaking branches with disdain. Tiny droplets of dew aid the wind and wet hair gave the head a tingling. They halted. 

"What's happened?" Said the one.

"Cut." Said the other, pulling chips and shards out of blood and shoe. 

And they were off again. 

When they had settled the slighter boy pulled out a crushed chocolate bar from his trousers. The other had a glass mason jar full of tawny lemonade. And so they dined ravenously and were full within minutes. Sprawled out on the verdant floor, they peered up through the trees. The slim one fell asleep, his feet locked in a tumble. The other watched the sky and thought of his mother. The clouds were twisting and unfurling into little waves and back into dense shapes, reaching out. Could she see me? He wondered, forlorn. He fell asleep and dreamed. One foot felt heavier than the other.  

When he awoke he was alone. Gazing up into the astral, he counted each singular twinkling. Muffled noises wafted here and there, slinking in through the trees. Crushed between the sky and the sound, he was the most isolated form on Earth. 

And when the first frost struck he was certain it was a killing frost, and he ran out to meet it. Hardly minding himself, he tore forward through a crooked door that had been blasted and slammed against its poor hinges months and seconds and moons prior. He tumbled down slick steps with bread in his knapsack and he ran out to meet it. How sheeny it all looked, crisp and innocent. Winking and urging him forward and on. He wiped away every track he could, plowing over and through hills and mounds. The pinpricks of little birds and the scattered shakes of disturbed branches were invitations accepted. Eventually he tired. He settled after a fashion within arms length of the last dule of doves. He tossed forth stale bread, speckling them. As their little beaks seized and plucked he answered the question, what if I never went to sleep? One foot felt heavier than the other.

And at last, solitary, he made it home, there because no one else was. He dragged himself through the contorted entry and up each stair. He reached the end of the stygian hallway and into the dusky room, but found no light was needed. The walls began to glow faintly at first, but comforting still. And though repose was warm, an unfastened ceiling made haste for falling snow. Unable to make it up to the bed, his hand grasped for a quilt. He dragged it down just as he began to soar upslope.  Could she see me? He wondered, forlorn, then wandered no more.