When I signed up to participate in the latest Gentle April story contest, I had an idea for my entry but no clue how I’d illustrate it until a few days ago.
I wanted to draw the giantess, but in the end I like drawing tiny men far more than I like drawing huge ladies. At least for now. That, like my moods, might change at any point in the infinite future.
The theme-specific rules for all entries were simple: one or more of the main characters had to be middle-aged, and the story had to be gentle. At the time of this writing, all current contest participants must include trigger tags with their entries, and this page includes the tags for mine, in case anyone is watching what they read.
Hug the Undersquid 
Fear of loss paralyzes some and energizes others. These two desperate women find each other amidst death and destruction, and they agree on what is important. This was beautiful carnage, and the descriptions of the many ways Maria sensed the storm and the rampage was thrilling. As hard to miss as most giants are, having one lurch out of the darkness or being suddenly illuminated by lightning is heart-stopping. An immense amount of sorrow was borrowed from another world to write this story.
This was the feedback from my contest evaluation.
I’m still intrigued by Maria, how she feels a responsibility to risk everything here. She has already lost two children to this calamity, a more than sufficient sacrifice. Her husband seems as anomalous as the rampaging giantess, so Maria must believe that their destinies are linked somehow.
The connection was made, but the cities are still in ruins. Maria hasn’t sung her last song.
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Yes, emotions as fuel for kinetic energy is practically my middle name. Anger usually results in my doing my chores faster.
In my story, Maria operates the same way I do, compelled by fear of further loss when earlier loss was tallied as casualties of war. Her husband wasn’t really terrified. If I thought to explore that world, I’d explain that he came from the same place as the giantess’ mate did, and it’s a place where two-inch tall people marry mile-tall people.
It’s expected, yet he flaunted his predilection against all that was “proper” and left everything to explore a world where he found love in someone he probably felt infinitesimal, compared to what he was used to. What could be done? Some people simply like tiny women.
I love flashes of horror only temporarily revealed by flashing light, in movies, in books, anywhere I can get them.
Probably why I love “Pitch Black” (or anything Riddick).
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Ah, the power of music. So glad the world was saved, a connection made. Well done, thanks for sharing.
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