Ly Faulk

She towered over the office building, picking halfheartedly at the helicopters that flew around her head, tiny as hummingbirds from her perspective. When she caught one, she would shake the men from the cockpit and pop them into her mouth, crunching them between her leviathan teeth. The screams were muffled by her sobs. Her tears fell down onto Tenth Avenue, giant splashes that flooded the sidewalks and washed away any pedestrians she hadn’t already crushed or eaten. 

Someone had to make this stop. We’d been trapped in our office building for two days now. My cheap polyester suit was beginning to reek. We pulled straws and I came up with the shortest one. Someone handed me a bullhorn and pushed me gently toward the stairs to the roof. My heart was pounding as I trudged ever upwards, closer to the monster terrorizing us. I reached the roof and ducked behind a small brick pillar before she could see me. 

“Want to talk about it?” The bullhorn screeched as I released the button, making me wince. She turned to find the source of the sound but I was hidden from her view. At least, I hoped I was. 

“Talk about what?” Her voice was booming yet melodious. The slight tilt at the end of the question sounded defensive, guarded. 

“About whatever has you crying and murdering people.” I paused but she didn’t say anything back. “Boyfriend troubles?”

“No. Why would you jump straight to that? I wish it were so trivial. I’m dying.”

“Oh,” I said. 

“I’ve reached my terminal size. I won’t be able to eat enough to sustain myself and, very soon, I’ll starve.”

“Oh,” I said again. 

“Yeah,” she said. 

A bird flew overhead, a great big falcon with its wings outstretched in full glory. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I traced the bird’s path with my eyes. After it passed, I heard her sobs start up again. 

“What can I do?” I asked. 

“What can anyone do? Just be here with me, please. I don’t want to go alone.”

“If I stay, will you let everyone else go?”

A long pause followed by a quiet “yes.” I sighed in relief and texted Barbara from HR the all clear, then ventured out from behind the column, letting her see me. I saw her too, her red hair catching the light so that it looked like spun rubies. She was so much more beautiful than I had imagined. 

“Oh, hello there,” she said. “My new friend. Watch the sunset with me.”

I did and it was as lovely and colorful and sad and lonely as it always is.