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By Nimrah Nadeem

The boy crouches in the dark of the giant’s broom cupboard, waiting with bated breath. The pins and needles in his cramped legs grow almost unbearable, and he longs to change his position. His heart feels like it’s beating a tattoo against his ribcage. He feels a ripple of panic as the giant’s voice booms, heavy with suspicion. He shrinks further into the shadows, grateful that his face is smeared with dirt.

She winks at her husband and points and the broom cupboard discreetly.

“How big is this one?” he mouths.

She shows him with her thumb and forefinger. He can hear the boy’s heart thudding violently, and his mouth twists into a slow, cruel smile.

“Fee, fie, fo, fum…” he begins, grinning at his wife, who shakes her head in mock disapproval.