Thirty Feet Tall

You learn a thing or two being thirty feet tall. Like for one, to properly hide behind a building, it needs to be at least two stories high. A ranch won't do. A barn is a decent place to sleep as long as it has a dirt floor, but wooden floors cannot be trusted. And if you ever save a magical wood nymph, and she grants you a wish, be very clear with what you mean when you ask to be taller. 

I suppose that last one happened before I became thirty feet tall, but it still applies. 

The silly thing is, I didn't really mind being short. I was average height for a man. I just thought being a little taller would mean I wouldn't get overlooked. Perhaps being a respectable six feet would get me the next promotion. Maybe people would notice me. No one in specific, just anyone. Well, maybe one specific person.

That reminds me of another thing you learn when you're thirty feet tall. If you go back to your office building to discreetly see if your coworkers are in a panic that you're missing, remember that you will leave massive footprints in the decorative flower beds Corporate planted to cheer up the stark building. 

This may or may not result in the police being called. Luckily, the police probably won't believe in giants or wood nymphs anymore than you did two days ago, so nothing much will come of it. 

I saw Craig there. I never noticed his hair was thinning. He is much taller than me, or he was, so I couldn't really see. I don't know why, but it makes me like him a bit extra. 

_____

An amendment: I was wrong about nothing coming of the footsteps. A news van has arrived with a small crew, probably a local station. I can see them from my hideout in the woods. The reporter is standing in front of the huge impressions, gesturing behind herself without turning away from the camera as newscasters do.

_____

I spend nearly all my time in the woods now. I don't actually like the woods very much. I only went into them to try to get a photo of myself doing something that looked athletic—maybe a picture by a waterfall or on a big rock—something I could add to my social media or, if it comes to it, dating app.

I wish I hadn't heard that little voice calling for help and found the tiniest glowing creature tangled in a spider's web. I wish I hadn't saved her. Although, then, she'd probably be dead, so I shouldn't say that. Fine, but I wish I had turned down her offer.

I didn't really do much. I just brought a twig close enough that she had a way to pull herself free. And I flicked the spider away as it came out to inspect the commotion. Unfortunately, that was how I managed to hit the little fairy in the forehead with the twig. She squeaked and glared at me, yelling tiny, unintelligible swears. I assume they were swears, at least.

When the nymph was free, she perched on the end of the twig and caught her breath, rubbing her sore head. She made a gesture that I didn't understand while squeaking again. Impatiently, she flew up to my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

"Your wish?" 

I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. Again, be specific with wishes from wood nymphs or any other magical being, for that matter. I can't stress that enough.

This is what I get for making spontaneous decisions. I've always hated not having a plan. Even when I went into the woods, I wore my Fitbit just in case I got mauled by a bear or fell in a ravine.

I imagine an industrious forensics team could find me using triangulation or GPS. They are very clever that way. But I suppose a plan is pointless if no one is looking for you. 

_____

I had a thought recently how lucky I was that my clothes had grown with me. But they are dirty now. I've been wearing them for several days. Maybe I should have asked to be taller and impervious to dirt.

A wedding tent is a lot of fabric and can be used as a robe while you wash your giant clothes in the river, but beware, leaving massive footprints at a ravaged wedding venue will attract more than just one local news van. 

Teams of them are here now, and they have followed my footprints to the edge of the forest. The joke's on them, though. I can easily cross the river to hide my prints.

_____

Something else I've learned is that reporters are very clever, and they can get their hands on boats to follow a trail across a river. I guess that should've been obvious. Also, when it's a big story, they search through the night. 

Luckily, I found a refuge in a dilapidated old boathouse and no one seems to think I'd be indoors. I've seen them pass by through the little dusty windows. I did slip out briefly in a storm and put the tent back, leaving a trail of footprints back to a different part of the river. Then I walked through the water back here, so maybe I've gotten away with it.

I was tempted to go by work again, despite the risk. I liked work in a way, I didn't really care if I got a promotion or was noticed. It was just nice to have a purpose. And someone to talk to. 

_____

It takes a lot of food to feel satisfied at this size. I found that pumpkins are strangely tasty, they have a lovely crunch. And they're quite big. I've learned how to pick them from the woods along the edges of the fields and not take too many. I don't want to draw suspicion. Plus the farmers worked hard growing those, doesn't seem very nice to take them all. 

I haven't seen the news crews for a few days now. I'm assuming I have been deemed a hoax. Good news for me. 

_____

I've mapped my way through the forest. I move from rocky terrain to streams and back to rocks. I can nearly get the whole way through without leaving a single print. On occasion, I stop by work and watch from the trees on the north side.

I saw Craig by the forest's edge the other day. He was searching for something. Was it me? No. Why would it be me. I went back to my house once too, wondering if someone would be there. Maybe my mom or my sister, searching the place for a clue to my disappearance.

But, no. They don't know I'm gone. That's what I'll tell myself rather than they don't care. 

_____

I've taken to clearing fallen trees in the forest. I'm not sure why. I just need something to do with my time. I had thought perhaps I'd use them to build some kind of structure, but that feels too risky, so I'm just stacking them neatly. Maybe someone can use them for firewood. 

When I was a kid, my mom would encourage me to make a mess. She'd say that chaos sparks creativity or something like that. I don't remember. I was always too busy organizing things.

For my eighth birthday, I asked for a set of clear, stackable storage boxes, and only that. My mom got them for me, along with a deluxe set of logos. I was frankly thrilled. There is nothing more satisfying to organize than those little blocks. 

I sorted them by color and then by size. Then, I did the same with my matchbox cars and my action figures. Originally, I had displayed them in neat little rows, but they got so dusty that way. The containers were much better. 

I organized the office, too. The copy room had been a disaster until I got my hands on it. How anyone could work in those conditions was beyond me. And don't get me started on the break room. I found a bottle of agave that had expired three years ago.

Where would they be without me? Well, I guess they're finding out now. Maybe I'll swing by again, but not until I get this mess of fallen trees sorted. 

___

Okay, now I'm fuming. Apparently, even when you are thirty feet tall, you can still be invisible. I mean, I am in hiding, but I didn't expect some guy to take credit for all my tree stacking. He said he did it as a service to the town. The mayor even came out to shake his hand. Can you imagine? Egregious! 

This is like when Karen took credit for bringing in the instant hot cocoa. I stepped into the break room just as Craig was finishing his cocoa and thanking Karen for being so considerate. 

I should have set the record straight then and there. I was the one who brought it in. I was the one who knew Craig liked hot cocoa. He told me that, not Karen. But I thought it would make me seem petty, so I thanked her, too. She said you're welcome, can you believe it? 

The man taking credit for the trees is the pumpkin farmer, so maybe this is some kind of karmic retribution. Maybe I ate too many pumpkins, but dang, I’m hopping mad. 

_____

Well, I went on a bit of a, um, for lack of a better word, rampage. Oops. I didn't mean to. I was just so mad about the trees and my whole predicament that I stomped one of the farmer's hay bales. It burst in such a satisfying and effortless way. 

It made me feel strong for the first time ever. So I just stomped and stomped them all into oblivion, only pausing to catch my breath and chomp down some pumpkins. 

Admittedly, I got a bit carried away. 

He must have heard me because he let the dogs out. Have you ever heard of someone doing that? Like something from a tv show. Release the hounds! I'm embarrassed to admit it worked though. Even being this big, charging dogs are still scary.

Something else I've learned is that despite being thirty feet tall, you cannot outrun a pack of dogs for long. Head for the river. 

_____

I wish I could say the rampage improved my mood, but I'm still angry. I've left the dogs far behind, I'm back in the woods, and I'm still seething. What is this life? Why did I deserve this? All I wanted to do was maybe make Craig notice me. More than the polite hello he gave me everyday. Was that so bad? Was I being punished for that?

Wait!

You will not believe what I just saw ahead of me, darting through the trees. A tiny fleck of light. That damn nymph. This is her fault. 

She's entered a small hole in a tall, peeling birch tree. Is that her home? I grab it with one arm and shake vigorously.

"Hey, you! Come out of there! I need to talk to you. Come out, or I'll rip the tree down!"

She buzzes around my face, squeaking in a familiarly angry way. Fairy swears again, no doubt. 

"Look what you did to me! I saved you from that spider, and this is how you thank me?! I'm a monster! I can't go home. I can't go to work. I have to hide in this awful, messy forest."

I swing my giant hand out towards the woods in frustration and stop. I look around and, for the first time, realize it's not awful or messy. It's actually quite beautiful. The trees nestle in around the jagged rocky hillside. A little stream is trickling down between them into a glimmering pond. Birds sing, and the wind gently whistles through the turning leaves. It's so peaceful. There's a harmony to it. I'd never stopped to notice.

I sigh, "Sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. Or threatened to rip your home down. I think I'm just tired, not of being tall but of all the other stuff. I work so hard and for nothing. What is the point of it all? I don't even know what I want to go back to so badly. I think I didn't like my life."

The nymph shrugs and nods. 

"Even Craig isn't that great. I mean, his smile is incredible, yes. It lights up a room like they say, but he's balding a little up top."

"I am?" a voice comes from somewhere in the brush.

I dash behind a particularly large boulder.

"Craig? Wh- what are you doing here?!"

"I got worried when you didn't show up to work. Your Fitbit has been posting your workouts to your page. It said you came this way. Where are you? Come out?"

"Uh, okay, I will, but I need to explain. See, I wished to be taller, but I didn't say how tall, and there was this little - "

The nymph has begun waving her hands frantically. I suppose I shouldn't reveal that she exists. She taps me on the nose.

"Why do you want to be taller? I think you're a nice height. Probably perfectly average for a man."

"That's what I said, but I don't know," I step out from behind the boulder moments after the nymph returned me to my normal size. "I'm beginning to wonder if I just think I want things because other people tell me to want them."

"Yeah, I think we all do a bit of that. You okay, though?"

"I am. Thanks, Craig."

"Am I really balding?"

"Not from down here."

"Okay," he seems unconvinced as he pats his head. "Who were you talking to?"

"Uh, just myself. I'm a little delirious. I've been lost out here."

"This whole time?! Yikes. Glad you're okay."

"How's work?"

"Eh, boring as always. I think I might quit."

"Me too."

"Can I walk you home?"

"That’d be nice, but let's just enjoy this place a bit longer first."

Craig pulls a thermos from his bag. "Cocoa?"

"Yes, please."