There Be Giants

The Valley of the Giants more than forty years ago, right at fifty. Really, I did a thing that no one in my family ever knew about and would not have approved if they had found out. I have kept the secret all these years because it is my intention not to hurt in any way those I cared about. Telling of what I knew would have dredged up bad

feelings and opened old wounds, and I would not do that. I'm early into my sixties now and no one remains but me, And while I feel strange for doing this, I'm glad I finally got to be able to tell this without anyone being bothered. As you have probably already guessed, life was confusing and comp located for me when I was growing up, and while I cared deeply for those in my family, I have to admit to a peculiar sense of relief that I felt when I laid to rest the last remaining member

of my family besides myself. I do not count my wife among those, because she has known the secret for quite a while now and is sworn to keep silent until I no longer do. I guess she can do as she likes. But now I'm finally going to tell of what I know. My father was a good man, a good man as I ever met, and I'm not being biased just because he was my father. All those I knew throughout my life thought the same way, because I heard them say the same

thing repeatedly. He worked hard and provided for us, and was honest in all things, and was a devoted husband. He was steadfast when my brother was taken from us in an automobile accident, and when my mother was losing her health battle, he was by her side from the diagnosis until we laid her to rest. But he was not perfect. I never saw him display anger or hatred toward anyone aside from one person, and he carried that bitterness

inside him every day that I knew him. There was one person my father could not tolerate for a reason that I will never understand completely, and that man happened to be my grandfather, my father's father. My grandfather only lived a few miles from where our house was, but I never saw him until I was old enough to come and go as I pleased within reason. I only knew where he lived because my mother had told me in strict confidence one

day when I was about twelve. I had gone with her to buy groceries, and she slowed the car down as she drove and pointed to the house as we passed by. Now, this is where your grandfather lives, she told me. But you are never to tell your father that you know that.

I thought it wrong for you not to know. Being twelve, of course, I hammered her with questions about the man I had never met, but she refused to answer any of them, and finally grew so tired of refusing to give up any information that she told me to shut up and forced me to sit in the car alone while she did her shopping. Her silence only fueled my curiosity in the subject that she had brought up. I asked her no more questions when she returned or any time afterward, but that didn't

mean I stopped thinking about him and what he was like. All of my friends had grandfathers, and they talked about them often. Now I finally did too, only I knew nothing about him. We lived not so far from Mamo, Louisiana at the time. I now live in Missouri. That part isn't important. I just thought I would say it for the record, but it does point out that I grew up not in a busy city, but

was raised enjoying and appreciating the rural life and the outdoors. My father was a big believer in the outdoors as well, and I have to assume that he learned much of that from the father that he grew up to despise. Love of that lifestyle is a tradition passed along from fathers to sons, or at least it was when I was growing up, and I guess it still is. My wife and I were never able to have children, so I never had the chance to do as my father did for me, and that

is a regret I have. But when I was young, I wondered a lot if my father had been taken fishing and hunting by his father the way that my father took me. I still don't know if they ever shared times like that, but I hope that they did, and I wouldn't take anything for the moments I shared with my father and the outdoors. For my thirteenth birthday, I was given a new bicycle, a big blue shwim typhoon that could bore a hole in the wind, and once I had that, anything

within five miles of where I lived was mine for the exploring. It was during one of my rambles that I rode past my grandfather's house. I had never forgotten my mother telling me of him or pointing out the house, but I had filed away where he lived because we never rode by it. Seeing it from the seat of my bike stirred up all the curiosity again, and

I started right then to wheel into his driveway. But it was getting late in the afternoon, and if I found him at home and we began to have a fine talk, I didn't want to just up and leave so soon after arriving, so I decided to plan on getting there earlier the next time in case things went well. It was summer and I was out of school, so me being gone all day on my bike was not unusual. And

I glanced one more time at the house and began to peddle home. And I reminded myself along the way to make no mention to my parents of where I had been, Telling them that I had ridden anywhere near that house was a good way to get my bike taken away from me. And it was two more days before I was able to go back. When the opportunity finally presented itself. I did not waste time peddling around or bumming with my friends.

I went straight as a string to his house. As I coasted into the driveway, the fear I had had not sense enough to have finally grabbed a hold of me. I remembered asking myself what I was doing. Even though times were different back then, you still didn't just go into a stranger's yard, especially when the stranger had been banned from our lives, as this one had been. He could have been anything a robber, or a murderer or something worse. But he was still my grandfather and I wanted to meet

him. So I pedaled up near the porch and I got off my bike. When he met me at the door before I had even had a chance to knock. He was not what I had been expecting. He was a nice looking old man with a full head of white hair, and he was wearing the kind of denim pants that had the hammer loop on the side of the leg and a plaid shirt with two pins in the pocket. He was holding a coffee cup in one hand when he opened the door and spoke to

me through the screen. He didn't bark at me or cuss at me for disturbing him so early in the day. He just asked me if he could help me. There was something about the sound of his voice that started to put me at ease, and I was still scared, but not like I had been when I first walked up his steps. I suppose I just stood there because he asked me a second time, and that was when I blurted out my name, and I told him that I was his grandson and that

I had just come to say hello and meet him. I didn't know the best way to start the conversation, so that was what came out. I remembered that he took a step back, but he never stopped staring at me. He tried to make me feel a bit more at ease and jabbered out something about me not trying to sell him anything like they had us do in school from time to time, and I really just did want to meet him

and maybe talk for a little while. He took a drink from his cup and pulled the watch from his pocket and looked at it, and then he told me that I caught him on a bad day. Well, I apologized and started down the steps of the porch. The meeting had not gone as I had been thinking it would, but at least I had done it, and now it was out of my system. Now I could go back to spending my summer doing the things a kid my age was supposed to be doing.

And that was when he called to me from the porch. He had stepped through the door and out onto the porch while I had been retread. I promised to help a friend do some work to his kitchen, but we should be finished with the work by tomorrow. You're welcome to come back if you'd like. I'd very much like to get to know you, also, my grandfather told me. I turned and once I stood up on my bike, I told him that I would be back, and I rode away without

saying another word. I spent the rest of the day and all the next day trying to decide if I should go back. He seemed like a kind old man, and he was my grandfather, who I had every right to know. But my father had always taken care of me and had never steered me wrong in any way, so some of my thoughts were toward trusting him

in this and staying away. But what upset my father might be nothing to me, and I really wanted to know this man while I had the chance, So after eating my breakfast and taking out the garbage, I mounted my bike and I headed for his house. Maybe it was his usual habit when he wasn't helping to rebuild kitchens, or maybe he was anxious to meet me as I was him, but either way, he was sitting on his porch

when I rode into the yard. He was drinking coffee again when I walked up the steps, and he told me his name and stuck out his hand for me to shake, and then he offered me a seat and a chair across a small table from where he sat. I knew of you, but hadn't given any thought to how big you had grown to be. Your grandmother passed a long time before you were born, before your parents even married.

Had she lived, I expect I would have seen a photograph or two of you, and I was never sent one, being as it is just me here now. I knew that you had been born because a friend of mine had heard that news, but he didn't know what they had named you, so I never heard. I'm betting that your father doesn't know that you're here. Does he, He asked me, No, sir, he doesn't,

and he would wear me out if he did. My mother pointed out your house to me one day and says she thought I ought to know where you've lived, but I didn't tell either one of them that I was coming. We'll make a habit of breaking your parents' rules, do you, he asked, Well, no, sir, I almost never. I told him. So you've known of me of all five minutes, and already my bad influence

on you is proving itself out. That's what your father would claim, He said, yes, sir, he likely would, but I'm not making any plans for him to find out about this, and I don't reckon you'll be telling him. So, just why is it you and my father hate each other? I ask? My grandfather looked shocked to hear such a question from a kid, but I think he knew deep down it was coming at some

point. That is complicated, But I don't hate your father. He's my son, and I couldn't never feel any hatred to I don't think he hates me either, But he was hurt by something a long time ago, and he never knew a way to show that. Except for acting angry, and then it became easier for him to live that way. It was just something he could never understand, nor did he try to. I guess I can see his point. I just wish he had tried to see mine. He told me, So, what did you do that he holds against you?

I ask him, I'm not sure if that's any of your business, but I'm not trying to be rude. It was just something that happened ages ago and might ought to be left where it is. He told me, well, I came here hoping to know about my grandfather, and I don't know that I'll ever get to come back. I'd like to know why we were never allowed to meet. I mean, we are family, so I'd say that makes it my business, wouldn't you? I asked, You have a

lot of your father in you. What I'm afraid of is that if I tell you that story, the true story, you either won't be able to keep your mouth closed about it, or you'll take sides against me or your daddy. And I don't want you to do either one of those. He said, Well, I reckon, I can make my own mind up and keep it to myself. The story and who I think to be right, I told him. I watched him consider my words for a minute or two before he spoke again, Do your folks allow you to drink soda pop?

Some parents don't. Is the reason that I'm asking, Yes, sir, I'm allowed to drink sodas as long as I don't go overboard with him. I told him he brought us both a glass bottle of doctor pepper. He must have kept them in the fridge, because mine, at least was very cold. It's funny the things you remember. For me. It was how cold that soda was that morning? How old did you say you are? I only asked because I'm wondering about something. Well, I started to speak,

but had to let out a loud belch. I guess I had been drinking my soda too fast. I then told him I was thirteen, after saying, excuse me thirteen. Uh. So you know about boys and girls. Boys your age are always sniffing around girls, trying to hold hands with them and sneak off behind the building somewhere to steal a kiss. But guess what, grown men and women are the same way. A lot of men like to do that sort of thing so much that they leave the family they

already have, just to try to have a little fun. Well, that's what your daddy always thought I had done, no matter how many times I told him he was wrong. I told him exactly where I had been and what I had been doing, and he thought that I was a liar. I understand him being sore. What I did put him and his mother in a hard way for a long time. But I never did what your daddy believes I did. I was honest with him, and I'm gonna be honest

with you. If you call me a liar after I'm through, then there will be no reason for you to ever come back here again. I don't have enough time left to put up with the nonsense again. If you don't believe what I tell you, then don't but just go after I'm done and don't come back. Do we have a deal, son, he asked me. I told him that that was fair enough, and I sat back waiting to hear what he had to say. Some men are nothing but hounds,

always trying to slip around after things that they have no business with. They do that when they get bored or fed up with what they have at home. I know that because I got tired of it too, but I didn't go stepping out like some men do. I just stepped out and stayed out longer than I should have. I never believed in having a wandering eye, and I thought the world of your grandmother and your father. But there came

a time I just had to go and clear my head. I was a good man, but I suppose I was a selfish one too, And when you think only of yourself, that's being selfish. One day I walked out the door and then just kept walking. I was raised more outdoors than in most of us in that part of the country were back then. Being out in the wilds, the woods and swamps and bayous wasn't just natural to me. It was where I felt at home and at peace. Because I was

providing for your grandmother and your father. I had moved us all into town where I could work steady. That was before we all moved here. I thought that to be the right thing to do. But I always felt like I was being strangled to death, like I couldn't ever get a deep breath. One day something happened. I can't tell you what it was because I can't remember. Probably couldn't have told you then either. All I knew was that I'd had enough and I had to get out and away from everybody and

everything. I wasn't planning on being gone but a couple of hours I started walking. But plans change, I guess. I lit out like my head was on fire and my rear end was catching and it seemed like the farther I went, the faster I needed to go. Now, I'm telling you, it was the strangest feeling. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going. I only knew that I had to make good time. Having moved to that town not so long before, I really didn't

know much about the area, but it didn't matter to me. All I knew was that I was seeing less people with every step, and I was feeling better all the time. As soon as I ran up on a great patch of woods, I darted in there. I had to get off the asphalt, on the dirt and leaves. I was practically running by the time I was in amongst all those trees, and I felt good for the first time in days. Once I stepped far enough away from the world, I

could hear nothing aside from the breeze through the tree limbs. It was as if a heavy load had been taken from my shoulders. And if you had asked me long about then exactly where I was or exactly how to get back to where I lived, I'm not sure that I could have told you. I was in sort of a daze, the good kind where you just feel good all over. And I watched where I was stepping because I didn't want to fall into a hole or stumble over a log of some sort. But

otherwise I wasn't caring where I was going. I was just happy to keep walking where I was at, and there wasn't any other concern on my mind. That was about when the breeze that was blowing into my face allowed me to smell something strange. It wasn't altogether bad, but it was different from anything I've ever smelled before. It was strong, but kind of sweet in a wrong sort of way, like when you run up on an animal that's been dead for a while, long enough dead that most of the bitter smells

washed away and only that sweet ra remains. Since I didn't know or care where I was, and I had no agenda, I started following that smell just out of curiosity, I suppose. Deeper and deeper into those unfamiliar woods I went, And in the back of my mind, I guess I was aware of all the things that could be in there. After all, I had spent most of my life in those places. I knew there could be

anything from wild hogs to the snakes that will bite you. And if there happened to be any water around there, there could be a gaiter or two lying real still. But I don't remember caring about that at the time. I just kept sticking my nose into that breeze and following that smell. I

must have walked steady for an hour or more. Sometimes the smell would get stronger and I would hurry a little faster, and sometimes there would be nothing, and I'd have to wait for the wind to shift or go backwards until I picked it up again. But eventually I ended up on top of this ridge. It wasn't like I had climbed some great hill. The land just

sort of rose up that way. I was figuring that when I got to the top, I would see the land flatten out in front of me, like I had been walking in the lowland all the time, and was finally out of the bottoms. But it wasn't like that. What I saw was a I don't know how best to describe it to you. It was a valley, a bowl of land down below all the upland ridges that surrounded it. Now, I know, when you hear the word valley, you're probably

thinking peaceful, grass filled land that looks like a pasture. But that isn't what this was. It looked to me like a grown over quarry, scrub brush and rocks where there weren't any big holes and ditches, And it wasn't a pit. This stretched for quite a way. It looked like a place you might see in one of those monster movies that they show on the television on Saturday afternoon, one of those places where the cave men still lived because

they never had died out. I didn't know there was any kind of place like that in the world, let alone losi Ina. But there it was in front of me, graveling dirt, cave looking hollows in the steep banks, dark looking pool of water that didn't look fit to drink, and bushes and trees that seemed to have grown just so far and then stopped like they couldn't grow any taller. It was quiet there, quiet like I had never

experienced, as if sound wasn't permitted to enter that valley. It was a kind of quiet that made you feel all cold inside, you know, the nervous type cold like you feel when you walk inside a funeral home. As much as I had needed to get away from everybody and everything, I was ready to leave that sorrowful place. But then I saw what I couldn't make myself believe was true. Not for a while, I couldn't. I was all set to leave when I saw something from out of the corner of my

eye. At that time, I believed it to be a bear. We used to have a fair number of bears around, but I hadn't heard of one being around for a while. I had seen it moving toward that pool of dark water. I didn't see it until it was right up at the edge of the water. I watched it and saw the strangest thing. It reached out and scooped up some of that water, and then it drank it. It didn't stick its old muzzle down in the water to lap it up like you would think it would, like a dog or a cat. Would

it scooped that water up and brought it back to its mouth. I couldn't understand that at all. But things only became stranger when that bear that wasn't a bear at all stood up not only on its hind legs, but on the only two legs that it had. I'm telling you, that thing was huge, the biggest animal I'd ever seen or heard about, and maybe half again as tall as any man I ever saw, and built thick and solid. It was bow legged and hard at the belly, and long ropy arms

and powerful looking legs. It had a big head that was more pointed at the crown than round. I couldn't see much of its face from as far away as I was, but when it turned its face upwards to sniff the breathe, its mouth was open and its jaws were full of yellow, flat teeth. It took one more look toward the water, and it began to lumber off, back toward the shadows that had been in. Do you know

what lumbering means. It's something between a walk and a lilt. Those big arms were swinging slow as it walked, a bit bent over at the waist, like they were helping to push him forward. Like dragging an oard through the water and pushing a boat along. That's what it looked like to me. It slid in the shadows and disappeared, leaving me to wonder if what I had seen had been real. I sat there for a while, pondering over what I had watched, until it dawned on me that I needed to

start finding my way back. I wasn't really sure I knew the way, because I hadn't been paying attention as I had been walking. I stood up and took a last look around, and then turned to go back toward home. And when I turned around, that son of a bitch was standing there looking at me. He had made it all the way up from where it had been, and I had ever heard it make a sound. It was just standing there with its head sort of tilted off to one side, like

he couldn't figure me out. I thought about the moment a lot over the years, how it looked so strange to me. I must have looked just as odd to it. We just stood there, looking at each other for the longest time. I didn't make a sound, and neither did he. It was taller than I I imagined it to be when I first saw it down by the water. It's maybe four feet taller than I am, so

it must have been between eight and nine feet tall. And it was covered all over with hair or fur, except on parts of its face and the palms of its hands. And now that it was close, I knew where that sweet, roddy smell I had been following came from. I saw it let out a deep breath, and then it rumbled real low, like when you hear thunder from a long way away. It didn't growl or anything. It just rumbled like it was satisfied that I was nothing it needed to be

concerned about. And then it turned and started into the god forsaken valley, and it lumbered off a few feet and turned to look at me. I didn't know it at the time, but I came to believe that it was its way of telling me that I could follow it if I wanted. I can tell you right now that I didn't want to, but I came to

change my mind about that. I didn't walk near so fast out of those woods as I walked going into them, partly because I wasn't entirely sure of where I was, but mainly because my mind was racing about one hundred miles an hour, and my legs wouldn't stop shaking. I had to stop every so often just to try to calm down. You don't see something like I had seen and just walk away unbothered. But I finally made it home long after dark, and your saint of a grandmother wouldn't let up on me about

where I had been all that time. It only made her madder when I refused to tell her. I guess I could have lied and told her something that would calm her down. But I never lied to her, and I wasn't going to start then. But I wasn't going to tell of what I had seen either. Something inside me told me that I should stay quiet about that place and that thing that lived there. As you can imagine, I

didn't sleep very well that night. I just kept thinking about that giant, hairy thing living in that lonesome valley, and I wondered if anyone else was aware of it being there. By sunrise, I had reached a decision. Now I know now that I should have thought about it a little longer. I don't think it was the wrong decision, but I should have handled things

differently. I ate breakfast with your grandmother and your father, and aside from your grandmother still giving me the silent treatment, everything was about like it usually was, and I wished them both good day, and I walked out the door to go to work, or at least that's what they thought. I

walked straight to the bank and I waited outside until it opened. I had taken all the money I had squirreled away in a HEIGHTI hole at the house, and I had deposited it into an account that your grandmother and I both had our names on, except for a few dollars, which I kept for myself. And then I went to one of the local stores and I bought as much food that wouldn't go bad as I had the money for. And then I set off for that valley again. I wanted to be there with

that thing. I wanted to watch it. I wanted it to invite me to follow it again. And something in that lonesome valley called to me, and as much as I knew I was doing wrong to my family, I didn't have a choice but to go. I could have left a note of some kind, but I didn't know how to tell the truth without telling them something that they would never have believed. And as I said, I wasn't

gonna lie. I made better time in getting there than I was expecting, even carrying a sack full of canned meat and canned fruit plus saltine crackers. I hadn't been in my right mind when I had gone there the first time, and I was full of questions on the way out. The next time, I knew where I was going, and I knew that I wanted to be there. I arrived at after the noon hour, and though I had

spent the morning going NonStop, I really wasn't hungry. I knew to be frugal with my food so it would last, but I really didn't want anything to eat. I remember that I wanted to drink of water awfully bad. And I also knew where I had crossed the creek not so far back. But I wanted to see that thing again more than I wanted to get up and start walking again. So I just sat there and waited while I watched, even though I knew from experience that it could slip in on me without

my knowing at any time it wanted to. But if it went to moving around again, I wanted to see it I wouldn't let myself think that maybe we had just been the same place at the same time and it had moved on. I wanted to see it too badly for that to have been the case. It was the wrong time of year when I went to that valley for having to worry about it growing cold. But I sat there long enough for the cooling in the evening to be felt. I sat there all that

time, and I never saw that thing. I don't mean that I never saw that thing moving about. I mean I didn't see anything. Not a squirrel, not a possum, or a deer, not even a field rat moved among these rocks and stubby brush. And when I did see a murder of croise winging through the air. They came over the treetops from the directions that I had come from, and then veered. As soon as they were going to need to fly over that valley, they stayed to the tree line,

and they followed it. They wouldn't fly over that place. I started to get up so that I could go and get myself a drink of water. I was awfully parched by then, and as soon as I started to stir, the thing I had seen on the first trip there, raised itself from the ground, and it stared at me. I had been there all

afternoon and had never seen it down there. I'm not claiming that it had magic or any thing, but I am saying that it knew how to be so still that it could blend into those shadows and be dang there invisible. I sat real still, and I watched as it took a step out into the light. And then I watched as a dozen or more of those things started to stand up. They had been watching me all that time, and

I never saw one of them until they wanted me to. They were all just as hairy and uneasy on the eyes as the one I had come to see. But they were all different in a way or another, just like people look different from each other. Until that moment, I had never even thought about there possibly being more than one that I had seen. I never gave any thought on how it had come about, or if what I have seen the only one. I just never thought about that. Some were taller

and the one I had already seen, and some others were heavier. A couple of them them were starting to turn gray like old people do, and they were even three that looked to be about half grown. They would have been like you, I guess, all gangly arms and knees just itching to grow into their body. Now I was a fair distance from them, but because it was deathly quiet, it was easy for me to tell that they had never made a sound. They could, as I later found, but

they just didn't. They just did everything with nods and looks and movements of their hands. All of them got the picture when one would gesture in some way. I was busying myself watching the old ones making a point about something to those few younger ones, and never even noticed that the one I had seen on the first trip had slipped away from the group. I don't know

what a bunch of them is to be called. They weren't people by a long stretch, but they were more than animals, and I've always been comfortable with thinking of them as a community. But when I looked up from watching the older ones relating something to the younger ones, I saw that the one I came to see was gone. I looked around down there as carefully as I could, but I never could locate it. That was when I heard it breathing behind me. I knew better than to make any sudden movements.

But my reflexes got the better of me, and I whirled around and there it was, standing there like a big, hairy tree, just watching me. There was something about its big eyes that eased me. I was still scared nearly half death. Anyone would have been, but I didn't think I was in any immediate danger. You can read a man by looking into his eyes, and I was doing that with this thing. I saw curiosity in its eyes, not a threat. I sat there, holding my sack full

of peaches and crackers, and it just stood there, studying me. I don't know for how long, but it seemed a while. And then it started down into the valley, just like it had done the first time it and me had met. And when it stopped and turned to look at me like it had done before, I knew I was being offered a second invitation

to follow it. Now. I had no idea if the other ones down below were going to be just as friendly, but I did know that as quiet and as fast as these things could be, they could have caught me and killed me a hundred times over already if that had been their intention. And when it lumbered a few steps and turned to look at me again. I scrambled up to my feet and I collected my sack before I followed it down the hillside. It would turn every so often and look back at me

like it was afraid I was having trouble keeping up. The truth is I was. My legs had never felt so rubbery, and I was curious about what was happening. But I was also very afraid. But I stayed right behind that thing until it led me right into the center of where all those things were gathered around. The older ones, the ones that were starting to turn gray. They gave me a couple of looks, and that seemed to satisfy them. But the half grown ones came close and sniffed at me,

and they poked at me. One of them even twisted some of my hair in between its big leathery fingers before it stepped back. They all seemed to have had their fill of me and began to go about their business. But the one that had come to get me stared at me until I figured out that I was to follow it again. It walked a little way up the bank and looked at a hole in the bank. It wasn't much of anything, just a hole inside of the bank, about half the size of a

steel barrel. But I finally understood that it was where it wanted me to stay put. And when I started walking up the bank, I guess it was satisfied, and it walked back to be with the other I sat there watching them sort of organize themselves into grooves before they ran up to the bank and disappeared into the woods. I didn't feel like I was a prisoner at all. I felt more like that thing had directed me to that hole because

it felt I would be safe there while they were gone. It turned out that they were going to hunt all night for things to eat, and I realized that the next morning when I saw them come back and a couple of them were still eating meat off of a rabbit and a raccoon carcass. I spent all night in that hole, wondering where they had gone and what they were doing. After they left. I ate a can of apricots, and then I sat there until I fell asleep, but I was awake when they

all came back. I know that you want to hear all about what I did there the whole time I was with them, and I'm sure you think that you would find it awfully interesting, and I would tell you if there was anything to mention, But there really wasn't anything to tell. They hunted all night, they slept a good bit during the day, and they made no indication that I was to ever stray from the hole that they had given

me to house myself in. I was welcome to walk around and amongst them early of the morning, and when they returned from their night endeavors, and when they were gathering to leave out for the night. But they didn't like it when I walked around as they were resting. None of them did anything to me over it, but you could see it in their faces that it bothered them. So after I figured that out, I stayed in my place while they were gone. I would go to the creek I mentioned to fill

up my empty cans with water so i'd have something handy to drink. Now, I'm sure it would have been fine if I had gone to that pool of dark water, but it's tank worse than they did, and I wasn't mad enough to swallow any of that. I was there eleven days with them, never speaking, never sitting with them, never running with them, all night long, they were sort of letting me live with them, but it

was real clear that I wasn't part of the group in any way. On the eleventh day, I took a hard look at the groceries I had left, and I was awfully disappointed with what I saw. If I made myself be careful, I had maybe three days worth of food left, and then I was going to need to make a decision either go and figure out some way to get more food or just go. And I didn't know what I wanted to do the most. I was missing your grandmother and your father,

just awful. But I had never been at such a peace as I had been since coming to that strange little valley. No one harped at me about anything, and no one expected anything from me. I had learned to appreciate those grunts and rumbles when they did say anything. I liked seeing the older ones correct the younger ones with just a look. I just liked being around them, and I think they liked me being around at least they never gave

any indication to the contrary. On the twelfth day, I was sitting at the edge of my hole, eating the last pack of crackers while waiting on all of them to come back after their night hunt, and I waited and I waited, and I waited all day without a sign of them. Then I fell asleep, figuring they must have had to range farther than usual, that I would see them again the next morning. But they never came back.

That quiet and lonesome valley really had become quiet and lonesome. I gave them until noon, and then I shoved all those empty cans into a sack and I walked up the bank into the woods. I walked slow, because

this wasn't the way I had wanted or expected the experience to end. But they, for some reason had moved on better hunting, or maybe they just never put down roots anywhere for very long, whatever the reason, they had left after allowing me to spend time with them, and I went home, and I sneaked my way into the backyard and I secreted myself away in amongst the hedge row. I had some thinking to do, and for some reason, I couldn't make my thoughts come together during the walk. I had to

decide if I ever wanted to go back to that place again. On the one hand, I didn't want to go there and find it empty. But on the other hand, I didn't want to go and see those things there and learn that they had stayed away until I had left because they were tired of me being there with them, but they didn't know how to tell me to go away. The answer to what I decided is that I never went back again, and I never told anyone where that valley full of giants was.

I'm not going to either, so don't even ask. I also had to decide on how much to tell my family, or if I should say anything at all. After just leaving. I wondered if it would be in their best interest that I just moved on and let them do without me. And what I had done had been so very selfish, and though that eleven days was worth a million dollars to me, it was wrong of me to

do it as I did. I was still trying to choose on what I should do when I saw the back door opening, your grandmother and your father came out. Your grandmother was wearing her dress and apron like she always did, but she was putting on a myth that I always wore when your father and I played catch. She was trying to wear her shoes and fill mine at the same time, and when I saw her miss five easy catches in a row, I stood up and walked to where they were. They didn't

run from me, but neither did they run to me. And I asked them to sit down, and we all did right there on the grass, and I told them what I've told you. Neither one believed me, even as dirty and as unshaven as I was. Your grandmother accused me of being with another woman, and after hearing her say that, your father took her side and called me names that I didn't know he even knew yet. I slept on the back porch for more than a week, and when it rained,

I slept under the porch. Eventually, your grandmother and I had long talked, and even though she never forgave me or came to believe me, she chose to work past what I had done for the sake of the family. But your father did not. For five more years we lived together, and he would speak to me only when it was absolutely necessary, and as soon as he was able to, he moved out and he never spoke to

me again. He would keep in contact with your grandmother that he thought so much of, but he never could tolerate the hurt I'd put them through, or the lie he believed I had told them. I regret daily that things worked out as they did, but I will never regret living with those creatures as I did for nearly two weeks. I believe myself to have been given a very rare gift. Unfortunately, I lost one rare gift on the accepting

of another. That was what my grandfather told me that day when I was thirteen, and I chose in to believe him, and I have not changed my mind on all that in all these years. I only went back to see him a couple of more times before I heard my mother whispering to my father one morning that she had read in the newspaper where my grandfather had passed away in his sleep. My father made no comment before walking away, and he did not attend his funeral. This is the story I have kept inside

for nearly fifty years. And now you know the story of the Alley of the Giants. Think of it what you will. I made my mind up about it a long time ago.