When this out-of-the-ordinary giantess comes to town…
…Q is for Questions. People arrive in droves to her side, some to gawk, others to report, and soon the rapid-fire questions begin, from the unoriginal, to the downright rude, or the insane:
“Wow, how tall are you?”
“Are you cruel, or gentle?”
“What do you do to little guys like us?”
“Can you step on me?”
“Will you eat me?”
The cacophony is the same everywhere she visits. She closes her eyes, almost wincing, and almost smiles to herself when she thinks of what would happen if she stood to full height and stomped her foot angrily, saying, “HELLO TO YOU TOO! NICE TO MEET YOU. SO, HOW ABOUT ASKING MY NAME FIRST?”
The questions would stop, and she would have some peace. Instead she remembers to be patient, to know that not often do people say the wisest thing when their minds and eyes are overwhelmed by an astounding sight. She knows that’s what she is. She smiles openly now and readies her first answer when she notices him.
Q is for Quiet, the silent man all the way in the back, the one that carries a single flower, a gift that shows her he likes to give and not to take. She forgets what she was going to say, enthralled as she is with his face and the way he holds that single bloom she knows will get lost between the pinch of her digits.
Q is for Quintuple, those shapes that now descend for him, crossing that chasm between them, over the crowd’s voices and street. Five amazonian fingers, all longer than he is tall, not grabbing, but respectfully draping like the thickest rug over the ground for him to climb, so she may lift him to her and leave the rest behind.
* * *
In the Gcode collage I picked for this entry there isn’t a crowd milling about staring at the giantess, but it’s one of my favorite ones by him, and it’s close to what I see in my heart as the visit of a giantess. In my mind she isn’t a mad creature that likes to stomp on people, or devour them. She likes to spend time with the little ones, to enjoy the visions they offer her with their infinitesimal life, and to go home leaving them unharmed.
Most of the time, anyway.