In the Land of GIANTs, 404 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
“Mama? Can Zen and I go lookin’ fer Wordlers?”
Fritta’s mother took another shirt from the bucket and pegged it to the drying line. “Have yah done yer chores?”
“Yes, Mama.” Fritta nodded emphatically.
“Then if it’s all right with Zen’s mother, it’s all right by me.”
“Off wit’ yah,” said Zen’s mother, pegging up a pair of britches. “Be back fer lunch, and don’t be dirtyin’ them fresh-washed clothes, y’hear?”
The two giggling nine-year-olds sped off barefoot across the field and vanished into the forest beyond.
“Wordlers?” Zen’s mother asked. “Some type of frog?”
Fritta’s mother rolled her eyes. “Fritta’s got it in her head that they’s tiny little people livin’ in our woods.”
“What, like fairies?”
“Guess so, but she says they ain’t got no wings. She’s got this whole story about the tiny little people what came from Wordler Village after their REALM got boshed by a wizard’s curse. There’s some sort of puzzle too, I think. Fritta can go on and on fer hours, but I just nod and tune her out.”
“Oh my.” Zen’s mother clucked disapprovingly. “She’d better not fill Zen’s head with stuff and nonsense. He’s already talkin’ ’bout learning to read and goin’ to the academy. What good is readin’ down here on the farms is what I say. But that boy’s got his head in the clouds. Tiny little people in the woods, pah! That’s all he needs to hear.”
“Fritta says they’s two apples tall and she kin carry a half-dozen of them around in her arms. Like th’ old stories of the folk who call us GIANTs,” Fritta’s mother mused.
Zen’s mother frowned. “It ain’t good for kids to feel like GIANTs. It ain’t healthy. Kids need to learn their place in the world is t’feel small.”
“Yeh worry too much,” said Fritta’s mother.
“One day he’s stompin’ around the woods playing GIANT to a buncha frogs and toads, and the next day he’s off to flyin’ castles in the clouds. Well, I won’t have it, and neither should you.”
“Nothing wrong with the clouds,” said Fritta’s mother.
“Been there?” Zen’s mother asked.
Fritta’s mother looked up. The sky was mostly blue, but there were three puffy white clouds were drifting idly past. One held a single castle. Another looked large enough for a cluster of houses and a school. The third was a granary, reminding her of the corn that needed to be harvested and raised skyward. “I’ve been there,” she said wistfully.
At lunchtime, the children returned with a fresh batch of stories. “They’re really cute, Mother, and they’re so small,” said Zen.
“I suppose they live in toadstools,” Zen’s mother sniffed. “Or in hollow logs?”
Zen shook his head. “No, Mother, they live underground. They got these subter- They got these Subterra- They got these Subta- They got these monsters who can dig real good.”
“And they don’t like it when we run around over their heads,” Fritta added. “Yah see, today a tiny Villager got picked to be the daily Wordler, and the Word of Protection was…” Fritta continued speaking and illustrating her story with animated gestures that kept Zen enthralled, but the adults had already tuned them out.
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
- Pinned to IPFS
Revision Notes:
To be added.
