Crawl (2023)

Owen rummaged through his locker, getting his things ready to head home for the evening. He was throwing his shoes on when his coworker Brad came into the room, the scent of sweat and machine oil lingering in the air.

"Busy day, eh?" Brad said, flashing a weary smile as he saw Owen, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. His work boots clunked against the floor as he made his way to his locker.

"I don't even want to discuss it," Owen replied, his voice a mix of fatigue and camaraderie. "What a shitshow. Had to sort out three different billing errors today. Three!"

Brad chuckled, shaking his head as he began to unbutton his shirt. "Yeah, I heard. And then the drill bit got stuck on Rig 7. Total disaster."

"Don't remind me," Owen groaned, rubbing his temples. "I swear, if I get another call from accounting, I might just lose it."

"Well, it's over now," Brad said, tossing his shirt into his locker and kicking off his shoes. "Any plans tonight?"

"No, just want to go home, relax, smoke a bowl, maybe watch The Boys. I need something to take my mind off this day."

"Fair play. I'll likely do the same," Brad said, peeling off his socks and grabbing a towel. "I'm hitting the showers before I head home. See you tomorrow?"

"For sure, man. Have a good one." Brad walked off, his now bare feet slapping against the floor, the sound dwindling as he got further away.

Owen's eyes slyly watched Brad's feet as they moved, fascinated by the powerful, rugged appearance of his coworker's soles and toes. There was something about the casual strength in Brad's movements that always drew Owen's attention. As his coworker turned the corner to the showers, Owen continued getting ready as he heard the shower turn on.

He threw on his red hoodie and closed his locker. As he did, a wave of nausea hit him, and he sank onto the adjacent bench, hoping it would pass. But the nausea only grew stronger. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he found himself on all fours on the cold, tiled floor. With a final, wrenching spasm, he closed his eyes, willing the sickness to end.

When Owen opened his eyes again, his surroundings had drastically changed. The lockers, once slightly taller than he was, now loomed like impossibly high walls. He realized with a jolt that he was no longer on the floor he knew, but rather standing on what seemed like an endless expanse of brown tiles. The bench itself now stretched above him like a massive plateau.

Panic set in as Owen struggled to comprehend his new perspective. He was tiny, no more than a few millimeters tall. The enormity of his situation hit him with a wave of dread. Thoughts of his family and friends flashed through his mind. Would he ever see them again?

As he tried to calm himself, the distant sound of the shower shutting off echoed like a thunderclap. A heavy sigh rang through the room as Brad exhaled after his hot shower, completely unaware of what had happened to Owen. The sound of Brad's relaxed breathing reverberated through the room, a constant reminder of his giant presence.

Owen knew he had to act quickly before Brad finished up and left. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, searching for anything that might help him get Brad's attention.

A slight tremor was felt through the floor. Owen was unaware of what this was, but when they became rhythmic, his blood ran cold as he realized it was Brad's footsteps in the distance.

Brad’s footsteps started up again, and Owen saw the enormous figure of his coworker come around the corner, a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. Owen's breath caught in his throat. Brad was a titan, his body moving with an effortless power that made the ground beneath Owen's feet tremble. Each step Brad took caused the floor to quake, the vibrations resonating through Owen's entire body. Brad's colossal feet, each one larger than a football field, slapped against the tile with a deafening thud.

Owen's eyes widened in a mix of terror and fascination. He had never seen anything so big move with such casual grace. Brad's strides were slow and steady, yet each one covered a vast distance, making it seem as if he was gliding across the room. The sheer size of his coworker made Owen feel like an insignificant speck. All the while, Brad continued to look ahead, as if he was alone in the room.

Owen couldn't help but stare at Brad's feet, feeling a strange sense of awe. He had always found Brad's feet captivating, but seeing them at this scale was overwhelming. The rough, calloused soles, the strong, well-defined toes—every detail was magnified to an almost surreal degree. Despite his fear, a part of him felt grateful for this unique, if terrifying, perspective. As Brad's foot landed mere yards away from tiny Owen, he realized he needed to do something, and fast.

"Brad! Down here!" Owen screamed, his voice a tiny squeak in the vast expanse of the locker room. But Brad lost in his own world, paid no heed to the tiny cries. He continued his routine, completely unaware of the dramatic shift in Owen's reality.

Thinking quickly, Owen decided to make his way to Brad’s sandals, hoping the contrast of his tiny form against the dark material would make him more noticeable. The trek to the sandals felt like an arduous journey, each step on the rough locker room floor a reminder of his minuscule size. The texture of the tiles was like a vast, uneven landscape, every groove and speck magnified. When he finally reached the sandals, he began to climb up onto the footbed, the strong scent of sweat and rubber assaulting his nostrils and making him nearly gag.

Once on the footbed, Owen looked up at the towering form of his coworker and waved his arms frantically, and screamed as loud as he could, though his voice seemed pitifully small in the vast space around him. He watched in dread as Brad continued on, his giant form moving with casual indifference. Brad’s eyes never strayed downward to his sandals; he was completely oblivious to Owen’s presence. Brad continued getting dressed, reaching for his pants and shirt.

Owen's heart pounded as he watched Brad's vision look down quickly at his sandals, and just as quickly looked away before his massive foot lifted into the air, casting a shadow over the sandal. The sheer weight and presence of Brad's foot created a rush of wind that nearly knocked Owen off balance.

"Brad! No! Look down here! I'm here! On your sandal-" Owen screamed, the sight of Brad's foot descending toward the sandal was terrifying, a massive object moving with unstoppable force.

Without a second thought, Brad's foot descended, his toes spreading slightly as they neared the sandal. A second-nature action to Brad, he never looked down at his sandal, ruining Owen’s chances of being seen. Owen's mind raced, his instincts screaming at him to move, but there was nowhere to go. The toes came down with a crashing thud at the heel of the sandal, his large bulbous toes flexing and shifting as they moved forward at lightning speed. Owen found himself in the path of the incoming foot and began to turn around to run before he was violently slammed from behind by the toes and knocked to the ground. Pinned under Brad's big toe, the pressure immense but not immediately fatal, Owen was dragged harshly across the bed of the sandal as Brad slipped his foot in.

Brad adjusted his footing, the pressure on Owen fluctuating but never easing. Each slight movement from Brad was like a shifting mountain, and Owen struggled to breathe under the weight. He could feel the texture of Brad's skin, every ridge and indentation magnified to an overwhelming scale. The scent of sweat and soap was overpowering, filling his lungs with each strained breath.

Brad, none the wiser, casually made his way out the door, unaware of his tiny stowaway under his toe. His sandals were snug, allowing his toe to keep Owen relatively safe despite the unyielding pressure. The world was as it always was for Brad—routine and predictable, his mind occupied with thoughts of dinner and relaxation.

Owen struggled to maintain consciousness under the immense weight. Every step Brad took was a jarring, crushing experience, yet the snug fit of the sandal somehow kept him from being completely flattened. The soft texture of the sandal’s footbed pressed painfully into Owen's back, but he clung to the hope that Brad would eventually notice him.

As Brad walked, Owen's world was a chaotic blur of movement and sound. The ground shook with each step, and the sound of Brad's footfalls echoed like thunder in his ears. The pressure of each step was nearly unbearable as the toe dug into him and released every few seconds. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and rubber, making each breath a challenge.

Minutes felt like hours as Owen endured the ride. His mind raced, alternating between fear and a desperate hope that Brad would eventually feel a slight irritation and investigate further. He tried to move, to shift his position in some way that might make his presence known, but the pressure was too great.

Brad eventually made it home, closing the door behind him. He didn’t take his sandals off, instead beelining for the kitchen to heat up some leftovers for dinner. Sitting at the table, he casually slipped his foot out of his sandal, finally allowing Owen to breathe, and flexed his toes in the cool air of his home. In doing so, however, Brad’s toe flicked Owen out onto the floor roughly.

Turning on a YouTube video while he ate, Brad was unaware he had brought Owen home and trapped him inside. Owen lay on the floor, crawling away from Brad’s large feet, knowing he was trapped in a house with his coworker who had no idea he was there. He looked around, the vast expanse of the kitchen floor stretching out before him like an alien landscape. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the enormity of his predicament.

As Brad sat at the table, laughing at the video playing on his phone, Owen knew he had to find a way to get his attention. The stakes were higher than ever, and his survival depended on it. Summoning every ounce of courage, he began to crawl towards the table leg, his mind racing with possible plans.