The day was almost over, and what a day it had been, ever since he had sloshed upstream, this morning, it had been nothing but fun. He remembered the first building he crushed under his feet, as he came onshore. He thought about the thousands he had mashed and stomped on, as the day wore on. There was no sadness and no mercy for the tiny people. They were all bad, and getting what they deserved, so the voice in his head kept reminding him, It had become clear to him, in fact, that this was indeed the very reason he was here, in this perfect miniature world. As the lunch hour passed, he had feasted on the tiny morsels, he didn't even keep track of how many met their fate in his mouth and gullet, they now traveled through his digestive system. Their army and weaponry was no challenge to his colossal form. Then there was the real fun part, romping through the heart of their city, pushing down their tallest structures, dancing as the structures collapsed beneath his legs. It occurred to him that all day, he had not seen any sign of children or animals, in fact he didn't recall seeing any church spires or crosses either. It occurred to him, but he didn't think much about it. It didn't bother him in the least, that he was as naked as the day he was born. If he had been wearing any clothing, he would have taken it off anyway. If any of the small people objected to his nudity, that was their problem. So far, nobody had said anything. The boy laughed to himself. He reached down to the thinning crowd, plucking up some man. What ever I do to you, you deserve, his voice thundered. You must have been very bad, cause now you are gonna pay, The tiny man screamed Noooo, as the boy ripped the man in half, the head and upper torso in his right hand, the entrails dangling from between the boys thumb and knuckle, the lower torso and legs in the boys left hand. He tossed the mess to the ground and made sure he crushed what was left with his heel. All the water he had drank during the day, was now pressing on his bladder, soon he would heed the call of nature, but there was something he still had to do, and as time passed, it became more pressing that he take care of it.
During the course of his naps, a disturbing vision wormed itself into his consciousness. Some one had done him great wrong. Flashes in his dreams about being hurt. Someone had taken him from his home, and dragged him to a dark place. He was sure that person was here in this tiny world, his job was to find this person, and make him suffer, more than anyone else he had mangled and tore. He would know this person. Like a metal filing drawn to a magnet, this person would be pulled from his hiding place, to face the boy he had murdered The boy knew that once his killer was destroyed, he would be free to be just a boy again, to play with his friends, to have dinner with his grampa and grandma, to play catch with the guys down the block, to fly a kite, and to eventually reunite with his mom and pop. But they were in another world, and were not to know the retribution their boy was wreaking on this corrupt city. The tiny road signs informed the boy that this was the city of Seadome.
With the blasting force of a jet stream, the pulses of liquid lifted cars, and washed them tumbling upon each other down the streets. The burning liquid blasted away at the building facades, ripping brick and shingles, shattering glass and tearing off huge clumps of masonry. The walls buckled inward from the blast, just as sure as if the boy had kicked them in, hundreds of gallons of liquid washed the streets clean creating waves before it, that washed into the street level shops. The boy aimed judiciously, ripping a swath down the side of the buildings, fires that billowed up amid the destruction, were soon extinguished, blasted out of existence by the dousing. The few on foot saw the jet approach, but had no escape. Like a tidal wave rushing before the stream of liquid, the people were swept up, only to dissolve in the scalding acid bath, or be dashed into the brick and iron edifices that twisted under the force of the stream. |
