This is a nasty little thing.
Even I don't like it. But I think it's new, and interestingly horrible. So here it goes.
Don't say you weren't warned.
Once (or perhaps twice), there was a young girl. She lived in a village, on a moor, below a mountain that loomed and skeered down from the sky; a hard rain perpetually falling. For a long while she was alone, and worked the fields in sullen domesticity with the women and the other animals (for such was the nature of the time). In this village, there was a young man. In fact, there were many young men, but the rest were hardly worth mentioning, either for reasons of inbreeding or merely unpronouncability. This one-among-many-young-men-man passed by the fields by chance, and all of a sudden he caught the girl's eye. (In fact, he had caught her mother's eye a good month earlier, but that was more the result of an accident in childhood with a poker, the high cost of glass, and her husband's energetic misuse of the vacated socket on stormy nights)
They looked at each other, and it was the suddenness of unexpected warmth in winter, the synchonicity of the rings left by glasses upon a table forming ourobouros
Predictably, a shy courtship ensued: a dance of innocence with lust in them both, producing a bond of forseen nostalgia that was almost visible on clear summer evenings. There seemed to be a limitless supply of those at the time.
Above the village stood the mountain, although it looked as though it was always falling because of the prevailing winds and such. Precisely a third of the way up, there was a cave, and in this cave there lived a giant. He hadn't always been a giant, or at least, only figuratively, but collective misunderstanding had made him so. Even his name was uncertain, although he was pretty sure it had started with a "V".
One day (for there was only one left), the giant awoke filled with maroon and nameless desire, and climbed down the mountain to the village. The people screamed and ran as they had been taught in their first year at school, and hid in their cellars. Apart from one of the elders, who was far too busy thrusting a hairbrush into his rectum to notice a hige and knotted hand reach through his window. However, from the sounds he made when the beastly thing bit into his shoulder with long, straight, white teeth, the old man worked it out soon enough.
The young man had not found his sweetheart in the panic, and so he looked in the church instead. Finding no-one, he squatted, obedient, under a pew. He was disturrbed by cries familiar from his deepest of dreams, and ran outside (into the graveyard), only to discover that his lover was in the grasp of an improbably-sized and murderous man-shaped creature rather than the throes of passion. The giant took the young girl to his cave, and therein he forced his flesh upon her, into her, and left her broken and bleeding on the mountainside.
For the man to find, wielding the expected sword, and all the while the blood covering her legs and the ground like a sheet. Assuming her death, he paused not, stepping over the body that was his love, and entered the cave to do battle.
The giant allowed him to stab it, and then as the man desperately assayed to pull the blade free, the creature delicately bit off his hands, an ape peeling a grape with its lips. Almost bravely, he beat at the thing with bleeding stumps, butted at it with his head, before the creature twisted his neck and jaw separate with finger and thumb. It tossed him out onto the grey slopes under the black sky, and he landed by his love, and their remains were commingled while the best slept, sated.