Each door was an impossible monolith of wood, as if tens of redwoods stood side by side in uniform at each entrance down the hall. Safe to say, the idea of moving them was as absurd as it sounded.
They barred vision into each of the rooms, leaving only sound and fortune to guide Scott's hand as he made his choice. He moved slowly, steadily around to the right side of the hall, keeping to the skirting boards at every opportunity. The carpet rose like grass around him, and wispy dust-bunny shrubbery hung around the edges.. it had clearly been a while since the home was vacuumed.
Reaching the fourth door, he pressed his ear to it; on the other side was running water, the noise of a surging waterfall. Whilst both food and water were necessary for survival, water was the more pressing concern by far. Thus, Scott dropped to his knees, and began the uncomfortable crawl under the door.
Humidity practically slammed into his face as he emerged. The air was thick and heavy.. it felt like wading through honey. A steamy, sweltering mist was beginning to form, and the cause soon became clear.
Shrouded by a curtain and rising above a castle-wall of porcelain was a shadow as tall as a skyscraper, each motion was wide and sweeping, and even behind the shower-curtain Scott could feel the air displaced each time. It seemed this was a bathroom, an occupied one.
The base of a sink stood beside him, and the looming outline of the toilet was just about discernible through the fog. Face already slick with sweat from the inhospitable environment he was in, Scott considered whether pushing on was worth it.
Ahead, no more than a shape in the steam-haze was a hill, discarded clothes of a Giant perhaps. Maybe they would serve as shelter, or a lift.. though getting to them would be a feat in of itself. The way back looked more enticing by the second.
As if intentionally complicating matters, he heard the telltale rumbling of footfalls outside, backing out would be a risk, yet would it be a greater one than the heat?
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