In the Land Of Giants
A brief work of fiction
I spent the first half of my life living among giants. Of course, I'm only 17, so that might not seem all too bad to you. Eight and a half years? "What's eight and a half years?" you ask.
Well, like I say, it's half my life. And it isn't much fun sometimes living among giants. Take Papa for instance. He's the Head Giant. Don't ask me how he got such a name, but the name itself is so much like him: Big, Robust, Gigantic, Papa. See what I mean? I look up at Papa through a fierce bushy beard. They tell me he's bald, but I almost never see the top of his head, so I couldn't tell you for sure. Everywhere Papa goes the earth shakes, the boards beneath him creak, the whole house trembles. Don't get me wrong, I like him alright, and he's never done anything to hurt me, but it just gets scary sometimes living around someone so Big.
Then there's Mum. Just Mum, that's what we call her. She's a giantess too, but not nearly as formidable as Papa. No bushy beard there, just gigantic footsteps (watch your toes) that make the floor rumble as she passes by.
As far as I'm concerned we Little Ones get too accustomed to living among giants. We take it for granted that we live in a gigantic world, and so all we want is to become a giant too some day. As if that was the goal of life: becoming a giant. Well, I've decided I'm not going to let that happen to me. I'm going to keep on being a Little One as long as I can, and there is no way you can stop me. Maybe I will be tall, but I'll always be a Little One inside - never truly a giant. No, giantism isn't for me.
Photo taken by the Little One.