[ IP ] Discovering Ruins of the Future

The figures loomed, monstrous against the soft green tresses of moss that caressed whatever thing that they could reach. Buildings, stones and pale lifeless thighs. 
 
 It was incredible, Benedict thought, on how much movement could be conveyed by the statues even though their ancient sculptors had neglected the most basic of figure theory. No muscles, no faces, just the human figure enclosed with ornamental casing. Old legends spoke of how the statues were once living, free to move and live until The Great Squall occurred that froze their limbs and destroyed their builders. 
 
 And now they were displayed here, relics of the past that anybody could visit with a museum pass or a fifteen dollar ticket. The last Squall had passed more than a week ago, dissecting many small villages. But with that bad weather out of the way, it seemed that the Gods had taken pity and blessed the land with a storm of sunshine. Perfect day to see the ruins and the juggernauts that quietly slept among the greenery. Benedict himself was not a believer, only visiting the `` Resting Giants'' for academic purposes. He was however, not alone, many families and individuals were out enjoying the rare glimpse of the sun, or resting in the shade of the statues. 
 
 Waving in the slight breeze, an informational sign told him that the ancients would construct such great structures to protect their homes from evil spirits. 
 
 `` Interested in the Resting Giants are we?'' 
 
 Benedict turned to see the friendly curator eyeing him curiously. 
 
 `` Yes sir,'' Benedict said. `` It's more for a class paper on the art of the ancients.'' 
 
 `` Art is it? You know they once said that these statues used to move just the same as you and me.'' The curator's eyes twinkled, almost patronizing to Benedict's ego. Benedict did not appreciate his facetiousness. 
 
 `` Whether they move or not does not change the fact that it is art. And it is impossible to appreciate the art if we separate it completely from the legends that gave birth to it.'' 
 
 `` Whatever you say lad. My grandfather would have given a limb to see these giants move. He was part of the Robotists. One of the very same group that was responsible for the Kidnapped Giant.'' 
 
 `` What a vulgar scandal,'' Benedict sneered. `` Desecration of our history. We act to study, not to destroy for our advancement.'' 
 
 `` Winners write history lad.'' And the curator walked away. 
 
 Benedict wandered the ruins more, observing the light reflecting off the white shells of the giants, an unknown material still not yet identified. He took sketches and wished he had hired an artist. Engrossed in his work, he did not pay heed to the darkening hour and when most of the visitors had already returned to their homes. Benedict preferred his solitude but when it became too dark to sketch by, he prepared to leave only to be confronted by the first signs of a Squall. 
 
 Shadows elongated, the grass undulated like a stormy sea and a soft roaring began, steadily increasing in volume until it was a tortured scream. His sketchbook was ripped from his hands, swirling up to a blackened sky and twisted painfully inside of himself to create and eye made out of vortex's and lightning. The air grew heavy with electricity and rain. Squinting against the horror, Benedict felt himself pushed by the wind until his back was against the lower leg of a giant. Squallbeasts emerged from the darkness, leaping after him with their fangs of slender needles. His life in danger, he felt his integrity dissolve. 
 
 Nails dug into the smooth whiteness of the giant and he tried to squirm up the giant's leg. A squallbeast leapt at him, but his hands could still find no purchase against the smooth wetness of the giant. Shrieking in fear and effort, he slipped around the mud, dodging the squallbeast's initial leap. His face hit the ground, sliding in the wet dirt where worms were emerging to taste the rain. With a last ditch effort, he managed to leap up to grab the knee joint of the giant, hoisting himself up to the chest cavity even as the squallbeast below him wailed its fury. 
 
 Benedict curled up like a fetus within the giant's chest. The inside of the giant was not smooth like the exterior but made up of sharp angular edges - but at least it was dry. Wet and shivering, Benedict pulled himself to the upper portion, navigating through feel in darkness. 
 
 A sudden motion than startled him - within the black interior was a blinking red light.
