By Dann
Greg Norman woke up with a splitting headache, his mouth was dry and slightly reminiscent of cotton balls covered in dry sand. His vision cloaked in darkness and he felt somewhat like one felt when they were just coming down with the flu and every muscle in their body ached just a little.
Those were his initial observations, of course his immobility soon became apparent, and with it the tight sharp pain in his wrists and while he couldn't quite see what it was, he could feel something binding his wrists together and digging into his skin. To make matters worse, it appeared his arms were tied behind his back, and his legs fastened close to them, and tightly wrapped together, with the same painful digging feeling of something pressed tightly against his ankles.
He was cold, very cold, likely due to being exposed to the elements, he couldn't feel the weight of clothing, or the barrier they normally provided against his skin, there was also no feeling of floor or ground beneath any part of him, which likely explained the slow rhythmic rocking he could feel as his body moved back and forth like the pendulum of a clock.
"Good Morning Gregory." A sharp stinging voice broke the eerie silence, it was a loud voice with a deep and echoing sound, there was a subtle hint of an upper class Boston accent mixed with a shrill steadfast confidence. It was a semi familiar voice, only the deepness and the incredible volume was making it hard to pinpoint exactly who it was. However they appeared to know who he was, and there were very few people who ever called him Gregory.
Greg strained to see through the impenetrable darkness, though as his senses returned to him, he could feel something around his eyes that was likely the source of the blindness. "Who's there?" Greg asked, attempting to maintain at least a loose facade of confidence and control over his own situation.
"I'm hurt Gregory, you don't recognize my voice?" The loud voice was recognizably female, she finished her query with a long disappointed sigh, which did not settle well with Greg at all.
A repetitive drumming sound caught Greg's attention, a deep bass like beat consisting of four spaced apart thumps, with the longest pause between them being after the fourth beat. "Where am I? What do you want?" Greg asked next, attempting to push through his captor's attempt to intimidate him.
"Isn't it obvious Gregory? You're at home, where else would you be, child?" The mystery woman bellowed, following up her statement with the most unsettling and obnoxious laugh that reminded him of Ursula the Sea Witch from the Little Mermaid!
"What do you want from me? Why can't I see anything? Who am I speaking to?" Greg was starting to grow impatient, though the laugh did send chills down his spine, this only further infuriated him!
"So many questions my boy, you always were a curious little urchin weren't you?" She said with arrogance and disdain and with all the venom of a King Cobra.
"Enough! None of this is funny, who are you and what do you want!" Greg shouted, his clam facade cracking, the frustration and fear starting to show in his voice.
There was a tired sigh followed by a loud 'whump;, which quaked the ground and whatever was suspending Greg into the air. He rocked back and forth wildly for a moment, then felt the sickening sensation of movement, as he and whatever held him was moved, and quickly at that.
"I suppose it will be faster to show you hmm?" His captor lamented, and before long Greg felt a great python-like soft pincer feeling on his body as the blindfold was taken off.
The light was blinding, and everything of course was blurry at first. There was a few familiar sights, he could see his Study walls and bookshelves, the Moose head he kept on the wall in the far distance, but as he spun on the suspended hook that held him in the air, a more terrifying sight came into focus, one that drew from Gregory Norman a most terrified and confused stare of wonder.
Her short black hair ended just above her shoulders, in the center of her face was a large round nose that was the first thing noticeable, she had wide grey eyes and strong prominent cheekbones, the giant was a thicker person with a pale complexion and red rosy cheeks, dark red lipstick and a blue and white blouse with long sleeves. She had a large chest with breasts that heaved out in front of her like mountains, and stern no nonsense look on her face, where the only wrinkles that could be seen were the ones around her mouth that seemed to have formed from the permanent scowl that she carried with her.
Greg recognized her right away, Sharron Vanherberg, the meddlesome, domineering and utterly infuriating mother of his Ex Wife Patrica.
Sharron was 51, but had the money and the resources to keep herself looking 40. She was the matriarch of the Vanherberg family, keeping those under her rule neatly under her thumb. She was a wicked, ruthless and conniving human being, who had no small part to play in Patricia and Greg's break up.
Sharron was an unpleasant person in her own rite on the best of days, but as Greg saw her now, as an impossibly humongous giant, she was utterly terrifying.
It didn't make sense, of course Greg knew people were simply not that large, especially malicious ex-mother- in law's! It had to be some sort of mirror trick, perhaps a projection or an illusion? Sharron Vanherberg was a short, stocky 5'2 little shrew, not a 100 ft giant! It was a trick, an illusion to frighten him, it had to be!
Of course, when her face drew in close, leaving not but an inch between him and her large round bulbous nose, when the choking sent of her overpowering designer perfume, and the hot humid breath from her open mouth hit him like a freight train, when he began to sway back and forth on his hook form the gust of air that came from her cavernous maw upon speaking and that loud thundering voice bellowed out form within the cave of her mouth, he knew it was all too real.
"Surprised to see me little Gregory?" Sharron's thick red lips curled into the most malicious smile, showing her clean set of glossy off white teeth, each large enough to slice him in half!
"This can't be real!" Greg squeaked out, even as Sharron threw her head back in that same chilling Sea Witch cackle, he just couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"You shouldn't be surprised, I told you I'd make you pay for this Gregory, I told you what would happen if you hurt my Patrica. Didn't I tell you, I told you I would crush you like the bug you were, remember?" Sharron's voice went low and sinister as she crossed her arms over her chest and stiffened her chin, looking down through her nose at the tiny hog tied whelp before her.
"I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't hurt anyone, Sharron let me down from here and stopped playing around! I have money, friends in high places. You can't just treat me like this, Sharron!" Greg threatened, though it came out more like a shaky frightened kitten than a man.
This time Sharron's cackle was truly villainous and over the top, she uncrossed her arms and slapped her hand on the counter a few times, then as she calmed a bit she brought her hand to her chest and took a few deep breaths. "Oh, Gregory, it's terrible of you to do that to me, you're liable to make me die of laughter my boy." Sharron's eyes locked onto Greg, and she reached out with her long claw like fingers, grasping him between her thick thumb and forefinger. Each nail long and sharp, glossed over with a dark tan polish.
Greg let out a yelp as he was pinched between her fingers, her grip so hard and forceful it knocked the wind right out of him. effortlessly she lifted him from the hook he was suspended from and set him in her palm, then sat back in her chair to examine him.
"I have to say, you didn't turn out as small as I'd hoped, no bother we can always bring you down a few more pegs, if it should come to that," Sharron said with a voice of absolute ice.
"What do you want Sharron?" Greg asked, struggling against the tight bonds that held his arms behind his back, hogtied like a calf at the Calgary Stampede
"I only asked one thing of you Gregory, do you remember what that was?" Sharron asked, as she rolled Greg around her palm, pinning him with her forefinger.
Greg let out a scream as he was mercilessly rolled around, his limbs ached and his muscles stretched to their limit.
"I asked you a question Gregory.." Sharron repeated, with a commanding voice.
"Gaah! Stop, just stop...I'll give you anything, money, do you want money?" Greg pleaded.
Sharron sighed and shook her head, gripping the bridge of her nose with her free thumb and forefinger and letting out a long breath. "When you married Patricia, I allowed you into this family, I welcomed you with open arms, like my own Son. But I asked you to keep no secrets from us. I asked you this with the strictest confidence, that you would respect this family and treat us with the love and loyalty we had shown to you." Sharron said, slamming her fist down on the table, and shouting. "But you lied to me!"
Greg was shaken, he closed his eyes and began to quiver, her voice was loud enough when she spoke normally, yelling was just unbearable."I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't lie, lie about what? What would I have to lie about!" Greg insisted.
"Gregory, I'm a very patient woman, but even I have my limits. Now is not the time to perpetuate your web of lies. You've been caught in the spider's web and now it's time to come clean." Sharron insisted, tapping her finger down on Greg over, and over again.
To Greg, it felt as if he was being punched in the side by an NFL linebacker. Every casual blow from her finger knocked the very wind out of him. He was starting to fear he may suffocate, if she didn't stop soon, which fortunately for him she did.
"Come clean Gregory, tell me what I want to know, and I will make this stop." Sharron said, softly.
Greg began to cry, it came from deep within, his whole body shook when he did, and tears began to fall from his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about....I haven't been keeping anything fro....AAARRRGGG!" Greg let out a terrible scream of agony as Sharron flicked him in the side.
"Tell me what I want to know Gregory." Sharron repeated coldly.
"I do....I do....I do....I don't know what you want me to...to say!" Greg bawled.
Sharron flicked Greg once more, making a loud thumping smacking sound as her fingernail made contact with his ribcage.
Greg screamed in agony and withered against his bonds.
"The bank account Gregory, I'm talking about your little treasure trove." Sharron said, with a tired and annoyed tone.
"What bank account! The only account we had was our joint account!" Greg insisted, desperately trying to catch his breath, his rib cage felt like it was on fire.
Sharron shook her head slowly and carelessly tilted her hand, sending Greg into a free fall onto the hard oak desk. He landed with a 'crunch' as he felt his rib-cage crack.
"Awaahhaha!" Greg screamed in pain and withered in vein.
Sharron balled her hand into a fist and brought it down next to Greg, a hair's width away from him, causing the whole desk to quake."The Swiss Bank account you are hiding your inheritance!" Sharron bellowed.
"I don't have a Swiss...."
Sharron slammed her fist down once more, dangerously close to Greg's frail body.
"Don't lie to me Gregory!" Sharron yelled.
"Please...Sharron I don't have a...."
Sharron slammed her fist down once more. "Next time I won't miss."
"I don't have a Swiss bank account! My inheritance was the cottage in Muskoka!" Greg cried, he had long since voided his bladder, and his bowels were next.
Sharron sighed. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this, but you've left me no choice." Sharron reached out and took hold of the ties that held Greg's arms together, she lifted him up easily and reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a gold plated Zippo lighter, the front had a date inscribed in it and a few names. It had been a wedding favor at Patrica's brothers wedding, ironic that it was not to be an instrument of torture.
"The account number Greg, I want you to tell me the account number, and the pin." Sharron said, dryly.
"I can't do that, I don't have a Swiss Bank account! I can't give you the number if I don't have an account!" Greg insisted.
Sharron flicked open the lighter and ran her thumb against the flint a few times until the lighter was lit. "I want you to tell me the account number, and the PIN Gregory." Sharron asked once more.
"Sharron, Sharron don't do this! Please! Oh god Sharron this is crazy, don't do this! Sharron please!" Greg screamed as Sharron lowered him closer to the flame, at first he felt a warm sensation, but that quickly turned to a painful burning sensation as the heat from the lit flame began to roast him alive.
"What was that Gregory, I'm not sure I heard you, could you repeat that please?" Sharron asked, the reflection of the burning wick dancing in her grey eyes,
Greg screamed in agony and withered, but there was nowhere to go. The heat of the flame singed his stomach and began to turn his skin red, any closer and he would be cooked alive!
"Naaaaaaaaaa! Please...Please stop...just...just stop ok...please....Sharron please!" Greg was pleased, but the cold giantess simply watched him, and slowly lowered him even more.
"I want the account number, and the PIN Gregory."She repeated plainly.
"Ok, Ok I swear I'll tell you...p...please...g..gaahhhh!"
Sharron quickly flicked the lid back on the Zippo and set it aside, then lowered Greg onto the desk. "And they say you're stupid." Sharron said with a chuckle, then reached for a pen many times larger than Greg.
Greg took a few moments to catch his breath, his whole body hurt, and his red stomach stung from the burn. "Why are you doing this to me?" Greg spoke, through coughing tears.
"The Account number please Greggory." Sharron insisted.
"That fortune has been in my family for generations, it's my responsibility to keep it safe. I wasn't hiding it from Patricia, I was just waiting until I knew the marriage would work out. I didn't want to jeopardize my family's legacy!"
Sharron reached out towards the Zippo, eyes not leaving the paper.
"Alright!" Greg screamed, and went about telling her the account number, with the PIN.
"P...please...you can't....I'll have nothing....my whole family will be ruined. You can't do this, it's not my money to give. It belongs to my sisters, their children, and my whole family! Sharron please!" Greg pleaded.
Sharron carefully wrote down every number, then neatly folded the paper up and tucked it away into her pocket. She then reached into her hand bag and pulled out a small remote control device.
"W...what are you going to do to me? S...Sharron?" Greg asked, looking to the remote with apprehension.
"I don't need you right now, not until I know if this number is right, and for your sake you had better be telling me the truth." Sharron punched in a few numbers on the remote and then pointed it towards Greg.
"What...what's that? Sharron...what are you doing!?" Greg struggled and screamed and withered against his bonds.
"You were trusted, and you lied to me. Clearly I can't have you dragging my family's name through the mud. Since you can't be trusted on your own, I have to keep you close by, where I can keep an eye on you." Sharron looked down through her nose. "If I need you again, I'll enlarge you enough, but Gregory, you had better pray these numbers are right, because you're mine now Gregory, and I won't be as kind the next time." Sharron pressed her thumb on the remote, and a bright flash followed by a loud noise filled Greg's line of sight.
Greg Norman woke up with a splitting headache, his mouth was dry and slightly reminiscent of cotton balls covered in dry sand. His vision cloaked in darkness and he felt somewhat like one felt when they were just coming down with the flu and every muscle in their body ached just a little.
Though this time he could move, his arms and legs were no longer bound, and his eyes were not blindfolded. Greg Norman took a moment to gather his senses before looking at a monolithic looking black building, as long as a city block and as high as a skyscraper.
Though, it was not until a god-like vibration, so loud it shook him to his knees, erupted from the sky, like the heavens themselves exploding, that Gregory Norman realized what had happened.
The black remote? Was now about as large as Sharron had been before, as for Sharron herself? Her image was etched into the sky, like the moon itself, she looked down onto Greg from on high, an impossible goddess, thousands of feet tall, so far above him her face was blurry like a far distant image.
Greg grasped the sides of his head and let out a pitiful scream, as fingers the size hundreds of feet long and wide reached down for him. A voice so loud he could scarcely understand what it was saying.
"You're mine now Gregory Norman. All mine!"
Epilogue
Sharron Vanherberg sat enjoying the warm mountain air, Paris was warm this time of year, and the quaint old world charm of the small mountain villages made her feel rustic and wholesome.
"Patricia darling, I'm nothing but thrilled to hear your news. Donivhan will make a fine husband." Sharron smiled as she sipped her espresso and sat back in the light wicker chair.
"Mum, I'm so glad you approve. I thought after Greg you'd absolutely revoke my husband's choosing privileges!" The Gorgeous young raven haired beauty laughed as she rested a well manicured hand on the shoulder of her picturesque catalog husband to be.
The Vanherberg clan had never wanted for anything, not since Sharron had mysteriously come across an old family trust fund hidden in the estate of dear uncle Fredrick.
"Darling, you've only ever had impeccable taste in men. Young Gregory was simply a tiny blip on the radar. Don't concern yourself with insects daughter, you are a goddess among flea's." Sharron scoffed, waving a hand as if swatting at a fly.
"Anyone who would let you get away is a dullard indeed!" Donovan laughed, a truly snooty and we'll rehearsed laugh.
Sharron and Patricia laughed in turn. The three discussed wedding plans and enjoyed the warm mountain breeze, until Patricia caught her mother fiddling with an odd amber broach she wore around her neck.
"Oh Mother, are you still wearing that thing? It's so gotti and dull!" Patricia laughed, eyeing the ugly thing and examining it closely.
"Oh, I don't know honey, I kind of like it. Sort of like a good luck charm. Oh sure it's cheap and gotti and ugly, but it has a certain charm no?"
"I think you should send it back to the dollar store you bought it from. Honestly, you expect me to believe that is actually some sort of prehistoric insect trapped in that amber? I bet it's not even real amber, it's likely plastic!" Patricia tapped the white tip of her manicured nail over the broach, then eyed the tiny speck that was frozen in the center of the hardened sap. "What's that supposed to be anyhow, an ant?"
Sharron smiled and tucked the broach back into her heaving bosom. She took a drink of her espresso and sat back in her chair. She never did answer her daughter's question. After all, Sharron knew what it was, forever locked frozen in time. She would wear her little prisoner for all her days, and she would be buried with it. After all, it belonged to her, and it had never ceased to bring her good luck and fortune.
Regardless of the cost.