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.