Posts Tagged Isaac

[partim] Isaac.

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Now I say I had the planet to myself, and that was mostly true.  Far from Martian habitation, there are not many of the nightmares; but they are out there, so there is still some danger.

And danger it was really… determination notwithstanding, I was still at an age vulnerable to their influence.

I still remember very clearly the first time one was on me.  I was only about twelve feet tall at the time, still very young but already too large to fit into the shelter.

I couldn’t move—I just lay across the ground, my head full of darkness, unable to see anything but the gruesome images the nightmare poured into my brain.

They say the nightmares don’t go for the most cherished images—love and home are usually stronger than its corrupting influence.  Instead it goes for the subtle, the day-to-day things that are always all around you but that you barely notice—the ground you walk on, the air you breathe, the clothes on your back, converted into loathsome, fetid, pustulent, ichorous…

I lost consciousness before they got me underground; they said I was lucky to wake again at all.

[scrap] Isaac.

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I had most of the planet to myself.  A million Martians, and land to provision themselves with, take up very little in the way of space, even from their perspective, I imagine.

So I travelled.

There’s not much in the way of food on those endless Martian fields, I know you’re thinking.  I do have a bit of help in that regard—my knack is autotrophy, so as far as I can tell all I need to survive is light and air and water, which are a lot easier to come by than more substantial fare.  They say it might be why I was able to grow so big.

[scrap] Isaac.

Rumble, rumble.

Is this what being old feels like?

I tried to find a comfortable place to sit… but everything ached, nothing was comfortable.

Rumble, rumble.

The sound of little things settling as a giant moves around.  A tiny sound in itself, I always thought, but the guys say it makes them worried about avalanches.

Rumble, rumble, they say it sounds like.

Whenever I move, they can tell.

I gave up and took a few steps to the other end of my canyon, where there was room enough to lie down—where I usually slept.

I lay down.

Rumble, rumble.

Don’t feel too bad for me.  I’m just having one of those days.

I don’t have to live like this.  I’m a grown wolf, allowed to make my own decisions now. Heck, I’m already ten—about 18 on the Earth calendar.

Where was I?

Right—I don’t have to live like this.  When it became obvious I was a giant and I was outgrowing my family’s home, everyone offered to help build us a new one.

My parents said yes.

And when it turned out they’d underestimated my final size, they accepted everyone’s help and expanded the house.

And when I turned eight and reached the age of self-determination, they asked me if I wanted to see a specialist.  Because I didn’t have to be a giant if I didn’t want to be.

By this point, I was over forty feet tall.

The house was reinforced for sound but when I went outside I had to tread lightly.

By this time I’d gotten used to hand signs and network messaging in lieu of speaking.

By this point I’d given up any hope of, well, ever being with a girl.

I knew it was always going to be an option to change.

And I believed then, as I do now, that it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

I told my parents that I loved them and I would never change.

I told them they could move back to the old home; they didn’t need to be a dollhouse in my corner anymore.

And I told myself I’m not going to be a small person.  And I don’t have to live like the small people do.

I left the house myself.

It’s still there, but I’m not going back.

I left town and started seeing Mars.  And studying.  And learning to live the best giant’s life I can.

[WIP] December 10, 2494.

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Did some more work on this. Realized Isaac’s position was entirely untenable, so adjusted it a bit. (He was half leaning on his side, but now he’ll be prone.) Also redrew his face some—I never could get the hang of drawing long muzzles.

Scrap – Isaac.

This sort of goes with the previous post. It’s also not something I’m entirely happy with (not enough showing, too much “telling”), but it did give me an unexpected idea of the kind of person Isaac is.

December 10, 2494 (old calendar)
Isaac had a bonfire set up on his end of the valley for Huck and Maxim’s birthday. It was an old-style birthday so it wasn’t as big a deal as a proper Martian anniversary, but the giant wolf took any opportunity he could to invite his friends over, since he wasn’t really allowed in town.

He was well taken care of, and he was able to keep in touch over the network, but overall, it’s lonely business being a giant. He was glad to see Mack and his cousin coming down the slope a half hour earlier than expected.

“Evening,” he signed, and they waved back, sitting across the fire from him. He was worried he might have made the fire too big for them — he never was very good at his estimates when he tried to size things for smaller people.

Luckily they didn’t seem to have any complaints, and they warmed themselves for a bit before pulling out their [Rami word] and sparking them up.

Isaac, of course, wasn’t really allowed an instrument either, — the sounds would be too loud (heck, he was only even allowed to talk in emergencies) or the lights too bright, causing distractions in Dunamy.

In his dreams sometimes he imagined rampaging. He couldn’t really see himself hurting people, but every now and then he felt the urge to smash something—not an easy urge to work off, when the only things you own anywhere near your size are your own pants.

And those were a whole set of their own problems.

He shook his head and tried to clear out the dark thoughts.

Mack was swinging his spear, leaving trails of white light in the air around him,

December 10, 2494.

An idea I had kicking around in my head for a while that I finally started work on at Sketch Night on Saturday. The plan is Isaac, Maxim, Huck, Modi, and Magni all around a campfire outside Dunamy Town on Huck and Maxim’s 18th birthday (old calendar).

Not too happy with the execution yet, though. I’m not sure the sketch conveys the general outline I was looking for, and I don’t like what’s up with Isaac’s head here.