The Giygian

You were nothing until Giygas found you.

Formless, you and the monster were separate at first. Perhaps you were aware of it, somewhere deep within you, within the center of the earth, center of a meteorite, the furious beating of a heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Were you listening at first? He wanted you to hear it; you were chosen. Special little boy. Worthless little boy. Your body never had the shape of a protagonist's.

(Better pig than man, but this combination will do well enough.)

(So will he be the King of Man or the King of Pigs? Ha! He laughs at His own cruel joke.)

To say that it rammed in to you at a thousand miles an hour is an understatement. To say that it rammed in to you at a million miles an hour is a hyperbole. But it came, and came to you.

To you, Pokey Minch, to you. Be grateful.

The meteorite hit Onett as the revelation did. Epiphany, consciousness, and with the herald's message you feared for your life. Miserable little boy in the shadow of a hero, who would pity you?

Giygas held you, and gave you power, and took you through time. You had never felt it, never been allowed to feel it, until that moment. (Like teleportation, instantly, like something burrowing in to your chest.) Rivers parting at your command, chaos spreading from your fingertips. (Giygas's fingertips, not that you minded.) If the stars fell and it was your doing, you felt nothing but triumph.

Softly, He called you in a father's voice, a mother's touch, a brother's camaraderie. Held your shoulders and whispered in your ear, insubstantial, all at once pervading the ordinary world: “You, Pokey Minch, will destroy the world!”

It echoed. It became the shadow under your voice, the shadows under your eyes. His voice gave you that purpose, and the least an ungrateful brat like you could do was bow, and carry Him on your back when His own great power weighed him down, your thoughts so Giygian that you were the only one who could call His desires your own. You, who secretly desired disorder.

What happened when you travelled through time? Everything –

Grinning; tumultuous laughter –

You were everything before you travelled in time.

Son and brother and friend and all other things that small town defined, those years before the boy that set ants aflame from behind a magnifying glass became the only you.

And maybe it hurt sometimes, but it was fine, because they were your family.

(It hurts... It hurts... I feel – )

And maybe you were jealous, but it was fine, because he was your friend.

(Ness Ness Ness Ness Ness Ness Ness Ness Ness – )

And then time passed; time, travelled.

You were alone. Nobody cared about you. You said this to yourself as justification for your actions. But when the meteor fell on Onett, there was no need for that any more. You wouldn't even mind if you yourself was effaced in the process.

Every time you saw him you grew more frustrated; every time He saw him He grew enraged. This friend, you thought, is only a hinderance. (He thought it too, so who knows if those were your own thoughts any more.) This friend will save the world – you, Pokey Minch, would destroy it.

In hindsight, did you make all the right choices? Nobody would miss the Pig King, but everyone would miss the world.

When time travelled by and you travelled through it, what vital thing had been lost? Doubtless your mortality, and perhaps your morality, too. Giygas dies, but Pokey Minch lives.

You hear the sound of yourself crying; nothing after nothing burst out of the mailbox. A stripe-shirted boy so familiar that those feelings are unburied, salvaged from a glass case previously smashed. Something sacred from a thousand years ago.

Who is the hero of this story?

You hear the sound of laughter, your own and others, but maybe that's just the echo of silence in your ears. Painting yourself as a tragic character always left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. Blood and copper and salt and light reflected off the Franklin Badge. Eloquent words stolen from poets and promises broken from friends.

You hear the sound of laughter. Only you, poor bored pitiless boy in the darkness. Visionary hero.

The sound of laughter, endless in the tiniest space. Darkness, there, and accomplishment. Who is the hero, the savior or the victorious?

Laughter. The gleeful, Giygian laugh that echoes until the end of the world.