5 thousand years is a short sleep for a giant.

Awaking under the morning sun the giant brushed granite dust from his drowsy eyes. What at first was fuzzy soon became clear, revealing a foreign landscape sparking an unfamiliar fear.

The blanketed mountain he nestled under felt the same.

The meandering river swiftly flowing south still remained.

The murmuration of starlings still hovered above,

and the grant boulders he used as a pillow still resonated love.

Yet something was terribly wrong…

Where there used to be rolling hills something now gave him the chills, he fell asleep lulled by the rhythm of land and awoke to the rapid progression of man.

Hard edges rigid and ordered succeeded the riparian forest that the river was once bordered. There were brown orange clouds floating up from cylindrical tubes. The giant last thoughts were he was completely confused.

Upon closer observation tiny boxes were speeding around, over black stripped paths traversing the ground. The zipping and zooming reflected light as they went ricocheting off strange forms of ascent. Bizarre birds bubbled through the clouds, and unlike the starlings made preposterous sounds.

The longer he watched the more movement he could see, there were tiny little creatures walking around on two feet. They were coming over here, and heading over there, beeping, and honking, to the giants despair.

Her curiosity grew, and snatched a rock up to chew, while stretching out her long arms and legs.

5 years is a short sleep for a giant.