Friday December 30th, 2011

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the giant.

Just one day left in 2011. It's been a pretty busy year, to say the least.

Mine:

The giant surveyed the land below him, craning his neck to peer around a cloud as he used a redwood held between his thumb and index finger to excavate the remains of his lunch from between his teeth. It hadn't been a particularly satisfying meal, but he was hopeful that the next herd of cows he encountered was of a more reasonable size.

At length he spotted what he was searching for and bent his knees to begin the long descent down to ground level. Grasping the circus tents in both hands, he couldn't help thinking that there really had to be a more efficient way to gather toilet paper.

6 Comments:

Greg said...

@Marc: I love how your giant is making use of his environment just as most humans do – with no concern for the indigenes :) I think he's right though, toilet paper should be much easier to gather.
Good catch on the Janice/Janet slip yesterday, though I'm going to pretend that she uses multiple names to claim all those benefits and has trouble keeping track of who she's supposed to be :-P

The giant
Jimmy Ashford exulted as he grew, blowing his embiggening machine apart and becoming a giant in less than five minutes. Now Miss Drexelheimer would have to eat her words and admit that she was wrong to think that he was no good at science. As he gloated, he realised that he was having trouble breathing, he just couldn't seem to get his breath properly. As he headed towards unconsciousness he dimly remembered Miss Drexelheimer saying something about 'Surface Area to Volume' ratio and wondered if he shouldn't have listened a little harder.

writebite said...

The Giant

When I was small, she was big.
When I grew tall, she grew old.
Now a she’s a tiny, diminutive woman.
Her strength today of all the days of her life proving she’s a giant to me.

Inez said...

Happy New Year! Hope next year brings you inspired imaginings and many new words to play with.

The tears of a giant can dissolve the world into a salty mire: ink blots that blur the edges of things. How can one love when a tender stroke crushes bones and kisses only suffocate? He closes his eyes from the small wilted body in the palm of his hand and curses the infatuation that wrenched her last breath. The larger the mammal the weaker the heart.

Marc said...

Greg - re: Janice/Janet - ah, I thought as much :)

Damned science getting in the way of some harmless fun! :P

Writebite - very nicely done. Really enjoyed that.

Inez - thank you, and the same right back your way!

That's fantastic, had to read it twice for it to fully sink in. Great opening line as well.

David said...

What the heck, here's another

His body crashes against the hard packed sand, limbs bending in unnatural directions. The undertow tugs at his torso. He digs his fingers into the sand, trying to prevent himself from being fed to Poseiden. As the sea loosens its grip, he looks up to see the giant wave cresting, and all goes black.

Marc said...

David - looks like the writing bug took a big bite out of you :)

Awesome descriptions, you really packed a lot into your four lines.