These Little Women ✔️

Nightingale

I heard a nightingale. And it had the most beautiful voice that I had ever heard.

It was around midnight. The only reason why I was even awake was because of my horrid insomnia, so I had an excuse. But what about the nightingale? She was singing so beautifully, but it was so late at night.

I peeked out the window, hoping to find the source of the voice but had no luck. I glanced to the left of my cottage, seeing the riverbed but no nightingale. I glanced over to the right, but only saw the headstone of my late wife and no bird. I huffed at the sight of the grave, shaking I head as I retreated back inside.

It had been six years since her death, around the same time I started to develop my insomnia. That horrible plague, affecting everything – animal, man, giant – that it touched. My wife had had a weak constitution, so it was unavoidable that she had fallen victim to the disease. Despite my efforts, she had died after a month of contracting the illness. It had been a horrid day and I just couldn't forget it.

My thoughts were broken by the singing again. Where was that coming from? It was so beautiful... So... soothing. It actually made me tired, made me want to sleep. That was rare. So unbelievably rare. And I hadn't had a good night's rest in over a week.

I left the window open, allowing the voice to come through as I climbed back into bed. That voice... It was so beautiful. It was like the cure to my insomnia. No, it was the cure. It was what I needed to sleep, what I needed things to be normal again...

Tomorrow night, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes. I will look for the nightingale tomorrow night.

XXX

I had never been this well rested in years. I didn't feel like I was going to collapse that morning and, in the afternoon, I had even took a small nap after working out in the forest. All because I could remember the song of the nightingale.

The voice... It was so soothing, so calm, so pretty and pleasant. It could bring even the strongest of men to their knees, just so they could hear it and listen to it. I needed to know where it had come from.

Throwing my dark brown cloak on, I headed out of the cottage, closing the door behind me. I would have locked it, but I thought it was rather silly to lock the door;I was the only giant out for miles upon miles. I doubted that any humans would dare enter my cottage. At least sane humans.

Not wanting to be spotted by humans, I took the path that they normally didn't travel on. I didn't bring a torch or a lamp either. I didn't want to frighten anyone, especially at this time of night. Humans had a nasty habit of believing the stories they were told as children about giants. That they were all murderous, human-hungry monsters that destroyed everything in their paths.

I had to laugh at that. Eating humans? Perhaps there were some evil, bloody-thirsty giants out there. Humans had that same issue! But to categorize them as being all the same? How completely foolish. I was as civilized as one could be, the thought of eating a human quite repulsive. I would never hurt anyone, unless I was provoked or threatened. Then it became a means of protection, which was what humans did as well.

But still, I stayed out of the humans' way, not wanting to cause large panic and chaos for no reason. Besides, I didn't care about them now. I had to find the nightingale.

As I searched through the forest, I paused when I came across a human campsite. I looked over it, seeing what appeared to be a group of six bandits gathered around a fire, laughing hard and making jokes amongst each other as they sat on their beds. There was a wagon nearby, the horses tied up to the trees.