"Myth is our compass"

That's what some anthropologists like to think. It's thought that there was always some measure of truth to be found in the myths of any culture. "Dragons", for example, were in fact based on real large reptiles. According to Marco Polo, a unicorn was simply a rhinoceros. The Hebrew's "Behemoth" could have been a variety of huge herbivorous mammals like an elephant or hippo, and "Leviathan" was probably a crocodile, as with Babalon's "Tiamat". Ogres, Goblins, and Trolls were just metaphors for pagan barbarians that plagued the Dark Ages. Elves were civilized white men of the ruling class, Dwarves were simply particularly little humans; and then, there were Giants.

The term was simple enough: giant humans. So many cultures over the eons, from Goliath to Ymir to Paul Bunyan himself, featured them in their myths; and no matter how advanced and analytical society became, such myths persisted. Such as the myth shared among American veterans on the Pacific front of World War II, about a skirmish on Lagos Island in which American marines had the Imperial Japanese pinned and on the brink of defeat when out of nowhere, the Japanese found themselves saved by a Titan the size of a dinosaur, who repelled the American forces off the island but only after receiving fatal injuries from the American destroyers main guns.

This was straightway an easily dismissable hoax, even the Japanese government denied the claims of their own soldiers that swore they gave the dying titan a formal salute before regrettably leaving the island. After all, giants were a popular myth, and dinosaurs at the time had only recently come into mainstream knowledge. But even then, this myth within the Pacific Rim persisted. During the 1950's, a series of strange fatalities occurred along the Pacific Ocean. Japanese fishing boats along with their crew members went missing. The disappearances were quickly followed up by a new myth, that these fishermen were being preyed upon by some kind of aquatic Titan - a rather strange myth, given that these kinds of myths involve ships being destroyed by sea monsters rather than a giant sea man. But no matter how popular the myth became, any government that caught wind of them easily dismissed them all the same. But that all changed in 1954...

Now, there were photographs. Not blurry silhouettes like Loch Ness, clear black and white photos taken on Oto Island, of the village raided by a live Titan, ten times the height of the men that were killed. The incident became even more widespread due to the account of American reporter Steve Martin - it was the last account he ever made. The governments of either country suppressed all news of the attack. Photos were burned, citizens were either bribed or arrested to prevent public panic; at the same time, the governments raced to determine the nature of this hostile Titan, why it killed those fishermen, and how the Titan itself could be killed.

Pretty soon, the myths matched with the facts: bullets, depth charges, mines, and even missile strikes had no effect on the sea-bound Titan, only resulting in brutal retaliations from the Titan, resulting in far more deaths and infinitely more myths exchanged between navy and sailors about a furious god incarnate bringing judgment upon wicked humans that journeyed through the Pacific, avenging the deaths of the soldiers that died during the war so that they will never be forgotten.

While the myths persisted, the facts indicated that the sea Titan was also attacking nuclear-powered submarines, leaving more deceased and, quite strange, zero radioactive fallout from the destruction of the subs. So many new questions were brought into the equation by this Titan: how could it have been wounded by the artillery of battleships, assuming this was the same Titan, but be totally immune to conventional firepower later on? Why had the reports of it attacking civilian vessels ceased as soon as they began? Why was it now antagonizing the US Navy after killing Japanese fishermen? And just where the hell did all that radiation from submarines go?

Then a new theory was introduced, one that came straight out of a comic book: the Titan fed on nuclear radiation to make itself stronger; it was vulnerable to artillery during the war because of the lack of radiation; but now mankind was able to create it as an energy source, which the Titan was now exploiting, strengthening its physiology to extents previous thought impossible - it was like a giant evil Superman. There was only one thing left that could feasibly kill the Titan, and it struck fear into humanity's hearts even more, should the weapon be used in actual combat. Civilians from either side of the Iron Curtain quaked in fear at US and USSR's constant bluffs that they could be dropped onto their homes at any time, but the ruling powers that be were not foolish enough to follow through on those empty threats. Up to this point, they were just flexing their technological muscles to prove which political system provides the best society, and annihilating entire cities simply to show off was utterly insane. The use of such pure destruction on any portion of the globe, no matter how remote, needed to be justified; luckily, they were already using them for another purpose. And so the US government conceived of the perfect excuse to detonate another atomic bomb: a trap, disguised as a test...

It was March 1 of 1954. The high-noon sun watched over the fleet of ship and people, as the people watched over the island of Bikini Atoll, from a very safe distance. Today officially marked the project known as Castle Bravo, the first test of a series of tests of a new kind of thermonuclear bomb, the most powerful weapon ever invented so far. Most crewmen were operating on the notion that this new bomb was going to be detonated for the purpose of studying its destructive results just as with the other bomb tests, but some knew more than they officially had the right to. Some soldier had vindictively painted a crude red symbol of a dragon on the side of the bomb, which rested on a metal tower on the island.

The entire fleet was carefully placed far enough to avoid the blast but close enough to clearly observe it. Military officials and scientists had front row seats for the demonstration, its official term; naturally, there were very few photographers, as the government only wanted certain kinds of pictures that could be released to the public and cause no panic. They put on their protective eyewear to shield their vision from the impending flash.

As soon as their true target appear on sonar, moving at incredible speed straight for the bomb, the countdown was initiated. Every last human being held their breath as the voice from the speaker methodically decended from 10, to 9, to 8...

7...

6...

5...

A row of black dorsal spike emerged from the surface, a gigantic clawed hand slammed into the sand of the island, pushing a massive humanoid figure up from the depths.

2...

1...

The figure, as well as the island, vanished beneath the radiant nuclear blast; the explosion dwarfed the surrounding battleships. A recording was taken from the air, capturing footage of the colossal mushroom cloud that would later become an iconic piece of history, while on the surface, land, and sea were consumed by the infinitely spreading shockwave.

And as far as humanity could tell, Godzilla was no more.