At night, we fought the giants. We fought them with tanks and guns, swords and clubs.
The giants came to take the children.
I fight alongside my friends for many nights, until I am alone and I face the last giant.
I fail and fall in front of my son, at our tribe’s hall where we keep our knowledge.
The giant drags me inside but does not speak. They never do. I struggle to rise but I cannot.
The giant does not talk but it looks at me and I understand. It looks at the tribe’s books, our stored knowledge, our science, our morality.
The giant does not take my son and it does not kill me. It leaves, but I know I must pass trials, or it will return.
I travel to the land of the giants and I must decide when to kill, who to defend, when to show mercy and when to show none.
The land of the giants is dreamlike, and I do not know if the blood on my knife and hands is real. I leave the knife and wash my hands in the giants’ lake.
The giant is in the lakeshore and he does not speak. They never do. I have passed their trials and I have a small silver square on a chain. It has a tiny blade.
I return to the tribe and my friends are there. As we eat, I see the father opposite me wears a small silver token. I want to ask him about the giants’ tests, but instead I hold my son and we laugh, and over time I forget.