Giga stuff

The land was in a state of war. City folk pitted against imperialists, the commoners against the ruling class- lines of the guard lay unmoving on the ground, clutching at the air, screaming apologies, regrets, each one seized by a profound absence in his heart. The kingdom could not win. They would be doomed.

 

Unless, they called upon the greater forces of the universe.

 

The great being who was spoken of only in whispers, that witches of old called upon for cures and curses, that the fearful would give gifts to so it would never come over. The universe but a single aspect of its ever-shifting form. The very manifestation of fear, the primal knowledge that no matter how great a civilization would become, it was but an anthill compared to...

 

They didn't even dare say the name in anything but confused prayers, on their knees, speaking in words they didn't comprehend, tears streaming from their eyes. Deep in their hearts, they understood- they just didn't want to admit. They knew that nothing they could achieve would reach its great glory. They new that its very existence could drive a person close to madness. Its very breath could wipe a city off the map. It was never spoken of, out of fear that mere words would not do it justice, and the speakers would be tortured forever for their disrespect...

 

Enough ellipses. The king had declared that they were too inactive, silently in wait, their only speech ellipses or squirming. They had to call upon the Greater Force.

 

The hands of the neckbearded men and women in robes met with each other, forming a circle around the holy moon runes in the center of the tiled, darkened room. A strange musk seemed to come over them as the leader traced his hands against the words, sounding them out, followed by a translation in the common language, with added commentary. The commentary was absolutely necessary; had he not inserted some form of humor into the ritual, they would have all fled from the temple in terror many moons ago.

 

They gulped, and spoke the prayers. Each pictured a different form- some their wife, some their childhood friend, some looking to wall carvings and gargoyles for inspiration. The voices slowly became one, merging, multiple tones united into a single voice. A strange mist came around, a sickly-sweet essence invading their nostrils, putting them in a strange trace. All of a sudden, they each felt very, very small. The pillars and walls seemed to grow from the ground, towering. A strange screeching took over the chants, as they all shut their eyes, clenching their hands. At that moment, they were all as one, a collective mass of fear, knowing their weakness, and calling out for help.

 

The screeching stopped, replaced with a high-pitched whistle. They felt the mass of the Greater Being coming over them, as a voice rushed through their ears, speaking directly to their hearts:

 

"AHH! SORRY I'M LATE!"

 

She struck the continent with a mighty blow- in an instant, the walls around began cracking, pieces of concrete hitting the floor. The temple simply couldn't take her weight, turning into a mass of dust underneath her shoulder. The Greater Being glanced at it, squealing, panting. The people below could have never expected it. A civil war, ended as a woman fell from the sky, annihilating everything without so much as a movement- the aftershock brought cities falling to the ground, warriors knocked to their knees, great empires reduced to marks of grey, brown, and red.

 

Those still surviving, miles away, had the horizon taken up by a woman the size of a country. And not one of those stupid little micro-nations off the coast of England or chilling to the side of Australia or whatever. We're talking country-country, an entire astronomical monolith of female flesh casting a shadow over the people. And, no, we're not talking some country's surface area translated to hers; we're talking, like, equivalent lengths. The kind that could cause death with nothing but a gaze; the type that inspired a primitive terror in the hearts of millions, city-goer or aristocrat, rebel or monarchist.

 

And she really had no idea what to do.

 

She looked below, waiting for someone to tell her why she'd been taken here, who'd brought her over into this world. Her summoners had been long gone. Most of the rebellion lay now on her legs; the capital city, particularly the castle, was still slightly distinguishable against her chest.

 

Looming over everything, the Greater Being gazed curiously below at the minuscule city-states. Her bulging chest dug craters in the ground as she crawled forward, shaking the earth with each step. Her youthful, surprised face soon dominated the skies, her mere breath bringing cities crumbling into nothingness. Soon, she halted, looking over a somewhat-unharmed one. She heard the voices of hundreds, crying to her for mercy, asking for something of another, their voices mixing, intermingling. She leaned in closer, her breasts destroying yet another mass of land.

 

"I'm sorry, what do you want? I'm really, really sorry about everything! I-I can do anything to help!"