Peter marched confidently down the hallway, his books gripped in his arms, a steely-eyed expression on his face.  Nothing was going to stop him right now.

                Carefully, he brushed past the other and equally normal-sized students as he made his way toward the next class.  He remembered exactly where it was.  He had studied his books and notes and was ready to absorb what the teacher had to say.  His mind felt like a steel trap, primed and ready to instantly take in whatever knowledge became available.  He felt like an animal.   He couldn’t get enough of it.  It was a glorious thirst to just be and exist in a world he finally understood with perfect clarity.  A world he could take on himself.

                “I’ve made it,” Peter whispered under his breath, a smile cracking across his face.  “I’m here.”

                “Hey, Pete!” called out a male voice from somewhere in the crowd.

                “What’s up, man?” Peter shouted back happily, looking forward again to make sure he didn’t bump into anyone.  Across an adjacent hall, Peter caught eyes with his math teacher Mrs. Tritter as she smirked at him over the rim of her black glasses, her luscious blonde locks flowing easily around her shoulders and neck.  She winked at him, which Peter returned with a nod and a smile back to her.

                “Hey, Peter,” smiled Alita, the girl from his art class, tapping him on the shoulder and bouncing her wild black hair across her shoulders as she headed in the opposite direction.  “I’ll see you in art later, yeah?”

                “Hi, Alita!  Definitely, see you then,” he answered quickly before they passed, heading onward toward his original destination.  “Just around here, I think…” he sighed to himself, turning a corner, before bumping into another person turning the corner.

                “Whoops!  Oh, hey, I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t looking where I was…” Peter began with an embarrassed smile before stopping in his tracks, staring into the cold blue eyes of the other student before him, shaggy brown hair hanging down partially over his eyes.  The teen was frozen in place, no expression on his face, his arms hanging limply at his side, like he was dead on his feet, with all the color drained from his cheeks.  “Hey… hey, are you… all right?” Peter asked hesitantly, becoming nervous as he waved a hand in front of the teen’s dead eyes and received no reaction.  “Um… HEY!  ANYONE?  COULD…” Peter yelled out for help before realizing something else.

                The sound had stopped all around like it had been swallowed into some dark corner of the ceiling.  No footsteps.  No shuffling books.  No bodies brushing past one another.  No chitter chatter.  It was empty, and suddenly the atmosphere felt freezing against Peter’s skin.

                Peter turned around to find everyone in the entire hallway had frozen perfectly in place just like the guy in front of him, their bodies returned to a simple, at-attention stance, their arms hanging at their sides, their faces emotionless and empty, like all brain activity had stopped save for those functions keeping the people upright and breathing.  Like robots all working on a simultaneous circuit that had suddenly malfunctioned, leaving all of them without purpose or direction.

                Peter felt his breathing hasten in his chest.  He stared at his hands and placed them against his cheeks, ensuring he hadn’t befallen the same fate.

                He clenched his fingers into a fist and tapped himself on the forehead.  It was definitely not affecting him, whatever it was.  He shivered, wondering what move to possibly make first.  Call for help?  Try to revive them?  All-out panic?  Peter stared in wonder and terror down the long tunnel of the hallway, seeing every single normal body, like he had become, frozen in time.  He pushed carefully past them, turning a corner and into a central junction point of the building that led into multiple hallways, where he could clearly see roughly one hundred other students gathered, all just as stock-still.

                Definitely the all-out panic, Peter finally decided.

                The silence was painfully broken in Peter’s ear drums with a thunderous rumbling from high above.  The ceiling seemed to be collapsing for an instant, but as Peter ducked down, holding his arms over his head, he watched as the ceiling actually continued rising upward until only unrestricted sunlight flowed inside, covering the students, who remained unchanged.

                “HELLO!” Peter called upward toward the opened roof, although he had no idea why.  Perhaps because it was the only place he had seen any kind of movement not originating from his own body in the past couple of minutes, which at this point, for all the confusion he was experiencing, could’ve been hours.

                There was no verbal answer, but suddenly the sunlight was being blocked out again by dark shadows.  Silhouettes.  Three of them.  Peter couldn’t be sure, as he had somehow become used to be a regular-sized human being amongst these now-immobilized peers, but the shapes seemed to resemble people.

                Massive people.  Giants.  Larger even than Peter normally viewed them.  He couldn’t even keep his jaw up.

                “Well, back to school.  This is more like it,” declared a thundering feminine voice from far above.  The voice was young yet imperiously sultry.  It had only been a day, but he knew that voice, and the identity of its owner made his heart pound even faster.

                “I want to play, Sharon!” a second girl’s voice rang out shrilly, whining impotently.  “Now.”

                “You’ll get your turn, Kimmy.  Shut up for now,” the first voice ordered with false sweetness, slowing down and silencing for a moment.  Peter watched the shadow tilt toward him, as if the head were facing him.  He could see the shadowy hair of the first figure shifting slightly, blotting out more rays of light. 

                Even though he couldn’t see them, he could feel eyes upon him.  Piercing.

                “Well, there he is now.  Our favorite little friend,” a third voice chimed in with an overly confident assertion.  “Can I grab him now?”

                “What?” Peter squeaked in terror, the words barely forming in his throat.

                “Not yet, Amy,” the first girl’s voice boomed.  “Don’t want to spook him into pissing his itty bitty little pants, now do we?”

                “Hello?” Peter managed to cry out as loudly as he could muster, given his dry throat and trembling knees.

                The trio of shadowy giant teenagers snickered girlishly for a moment before allowing themselves to descend into full-on shrieking and cackling with delight.

                “Well, hello down there, shrimp,” Amy sneered condescendingly, placing a massive hand on her tilted hip.  “Enjoying the view?”

                Peter cowered closer to the ground, his lip quivering fearfully.

                “Quit it, Amy.  You’re already giant enough.  Think of what you look like to someone like him.  I mean, it’s just rude.  Isn’t it, short stuff?” Sharon drawled, chewing each word and spitting it out with distaste.

                “What’s going on?” Peter huffed under his breath, although somehow his imperceptible words were picked up by the trio, who all giggled again.

                “You’re finding out where you belong, little guy!” Kimmy smarmed.

                “Where I…” Peter uttered weakly.

                “You know, short stuff,” Sharon continued.  “I used to think I was done playing around.  With dolls, I mean.  Turns out I was wrong.”

                “No… please…”

                “Oh, yes.  There’s no denying it.  It’s time to see what kinds of games we can come up with, my little doll-boy,” Sharon’s voice boomed powerfully, a shadowy arm shooting into the school, massive fingers outstretched, a palm swallowing up Peter in darkness as he felt cold whip around his entire body, screams unable to escape his throat as he was grabbed up by the apparition of Sharon.

                Peter awoke with a terrified gasp, the shadows’ monstrous appendage dissipating as he was brought back to reality, the terrifying sight of the unreal vision’s fingers transforming back into his own mother’s, which still clutched him snugly and warmly between her giant hands. 

                He sighed, and instinctively began pressing with all his might to part his sleeping mother’s heavy fingers so that he could get out.

                It took some effort and a little grunting, but with a huff, Peter pulled himself from the bed of his slumbering mother’s praying palms and plopped, mentally defeated for the moment, onto the smooth, rounded, blouse-covered mountain of her left breast.

                It wasn’t that he hadn’t appreciated her kindness in keeping him warm during his nap, but he had a feeling that if he had to endure the feeling of being so tightly and claustrophobically gripped for another few minutes after that dream, he was going to vomit.