My _grand_father was a very big man, tall and broad and heavyset. However, the one thing I will always remember about him were his large hands.

The picture of my _grand_father’s large hands was etched into my memory the day I turned seven. It was a cold, overcast December morning and my _grand_father and I were in the park taking our usual morning walk. Well, actually he was taking his usual morning walk while I was frolicking around the children’s play area as usual. The sky was becoming darker and darker by the minute and, finally, it first began to drizzle and then started to downpour.

“Johnny,” rumbled my _grand_father louder than thunder, “come on, we have to get going.”

“Coming _grand_pa,” I shouted back and started running towards him. But, just as I was about to cross the play area boundary, I heard little shrieks coming from the base of the large tree there. I stopped short in my tracks and turned around to see two kittens, hardly a week old, snuggling up to each other for warmth and shrieking as the cold, large raindrops landed on them.

“John, I said right now!” there was irritation in my _grand_father’s voice.

“But _grand_pa, look at these poor kittens, they’re so wet,” I protested.

“And so are you young man,” he replied, “Now come on, I can’t have you catch a cold on your birthday.”

“And I can’t have these kittens catch a cold on my birthday _grand_pa,” I replied with all the chivalry I could muster.

My _grand_father was looking straight at me with his large eyes, and on hearing my reply, I saw one of those rare smiles grace his lips. “Okay,” he conceded, “then let’s keep all of you safe and dry.”

He opened his jacket and tucked me in next to his large and warm chest, then cupped his large hand like an umbrella and held it on top of the kittens. I don’t know how long it rained; all I remember is looking at the kittens slowly doze off and feeling that I was at the safest place on earth.

It kept on raining, but my _grand_father’s hand was large enough to keep the rain away from the kittens.

It was a bright sunny day in Lilliput. Gulliver and his little friends decided to go for a walk. The Lilliputians fetched a ladder to climb up into, and settle themselves comfortably down in, Gulliver’s pants pockets.

“Whoa! Wait, wait! What are you doing?” Gulliver cried out as the Lilliputians placed the ladder smack in the middle of his buttocks. “Could you please stand the ladder to my side?”

“Ladder to the side?” the Lilliputian chief engineer looked up. “No, no, Mr. Gulliver Sir. Your side narrow, ladder fall, Lilliputians hurt. Gulliver bottom big, broad. Good for climb.”

“Yeah, I understand that. But how would you feel if someone stuck a ladder up your . . . ah . . . I mean placed a ladder against your back?”

“Ladder on my back? Not possible, it’s too big, my bottom tiny. Now stand still. Lilliputians climb now.”

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Gulliver just took hold of the ladder and placed it onto his side. “There, I’ll hold the ladder to my side and you people just climb up aboard.”

The chief engineer looked up and shook his head disapprovingly, “Mr. Gulliver Sir, you break some miserable Lilliputian neck. Ladder on the side no good for climb. You Lilliputians go back, no ride today.”

Poor little Lilliputians threw their heads down and turned around to go back – a beautiful day wasted.

“Wait! Okay, you win.” Gulliver snatched the ladder from his side and stuck it squarely to his bottom. “Climb up now, but you better not utter a word about this back in England.”

“Calm down, calm down!” he reminded himself, “and just apply for the job.”

It had been over a week since he had joined this particular freelance writing website and there wasn’t a single job that had tickled his fancy. Write a whole darn book for someone else; re-write a whole darn book for someone else that had already been written by a someone else – this kind of stuff wasn’t exactly his cup of tea. He was a person more inclined towards creation rather than reproduction, the pun definitely not intended.

And then, lo and behold, his desperately searching eyes landed on the soothing title “Create Your Own Stories.” The job title _calm_ed his aching eyes, but he knew this was only the calm before the storm. As expected, his brain went into an overdrive almost instantaneously. What would he write? How much should he charge? Could he now, finally, become a millionaire in three months? These were the questions that bolted through his brain at the speed of light – the last one also sending jitters of ecstasy down his spine.

The euphoria threatened to overwhelm his sanity. He lunged towards the keyboard and started typing, but every key he punched produced only a dollar sign on paper. He had to calm himself down in order to write a realistic proposal to get the job.

Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his wobbly hands off the keyboard, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, inched his eyes open, lowered his hands back on the keyboard, and typed out the following:

Charge per story: You’re the boss!

Availability: You’re the boss!

Communications: You’re the boss!

Turnaround time: You’re the boss!

He was calm, perhaps too calm, and had applied for the job. The millions that were coming to him would have to wait a little longer.

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“Nothing to fear, the meadow is clear,” assured Hugo as he hoisted Jacob over the fence. “Look, the other boys are already halfway across and there is no sign of the beast.”

Jacob landed on the meadow floor and instantly flattened himself on the ground, his fearful eyes carefully scanning everything. He realized the shortest route from their neighborhood to the lake was right through the meadow. What he never understood was why the boys always had to take the shortest route! Why couldn’t they just go around the meadow and avoid all the fear associated with it? After all, the meadow was the realm of the beast!

None of the boys had ever figured out what the beast really was. Some said it was a big dog. Others thought it could be a small bear. Jacob knew that it was neither. The beast was the unearthly guardian of the meadow, capable of striking uncontrollable fear in the heart of whoever dared to enter his dominion.

Today, though, there was no sign of the beast. Jacob gathered enough courage to stand himself up and started walking resolutely towards the other end. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Jacob caught a small, swift movement. He looked up and felt his heart sinking all the way to his feet with fear. Standing tall and dark, on a grassy knoll not so far away, was the ominous figure of the beast staring right at him. Jacob heard frantic shrieks from the group that had crossed the meadow by now and was trying to jump across the fence on the other side; certainly, they had seen the beast as well. The only question remaining was who the beast would go after!

Jacob, however, wasn’t going to wait for an answer. He turned on his heels and bolted towards Hugo, who had just landed on all fours next to the fence and hadn’t seen the beast yet. Jacob leaped on his back and vaulted over the fence to the other side.

“Hey!” shouted Hugo, “I told you there’s nothing to fear, the meadow is clear.”

All Jacob could do was turn around and reply, “Be very aware! Meadow is fear!”