A sampling from my upcoming Fairy-Tale, The Dinlan Giant.
Always the Giants waited for nightfall, when the weak human eyes could not see their lurching bulk. It made them afraid.The farmers knew when they heard the dogs growling and howling. Eventually the much feared vibrations would stir the house, dust falling from good thatched ceilings and then the dreaded sound. Like a drum beating in the distance, the march of iron clad boots. The sound becoming louder until the snapping of trees and crashing of wood gets loud enough to introduce the Titan, emerging from the edge of the field where long grass meets thick underbrush and pine groves. Terror personified, an enormous shadowy form armored in thick metal scales and horned helmet. Its form melted into the darkness somewhere between nature and nightmare. If the farmers lacked the common sense that the Gods granted all creatures and decided to stay and defend their homes they would fall before the monster as leaves before the frost. It is only the greatest fools that would trade their lives for horror. Fools are not in short supply.