Oh my God yes. I’ve mused briefly about this before, but not for very long each time. Getting a prompt for it really made me want to try it. So try I did.
This is not the end of this little crack story.
The Fire Spirit didn’t often turn His focus on a sprite other than His own children. He and His siblings watched the sprites they lovingly made, answering their Prayers when they could. Even as the fire sprites all over the world asked for magic from the Lord of Change, and even as He answered, He couldn’t help but look in on one of His sister’s children.
A wood sprite had befriended a human. It wasn’t the strangest happening, but it always amused. Most of the Spirits couldn’t resist checking in on the pair from time to time.
This time, as the human trudged through the woods with the sprite flitting to and fro among the leaves that the Earth Spirit had designed him to match, the Fire Spirit had an idea. A sudden notion of mischief ran through His core. If He could smile, He would.
My sister will forgive me, little one, He thought as he reached out from the place where the Spirits lived. I hope you will, too. Nothing wrong with a little change.
Once the dizzy spell subsided, Bowman opened his eyes. Then he closed them tight. Something didn’t look quite right about the world yet.
He opened his eyes again and glared this time. Things hadn’t righted themselves.
The trees were all much too small. Underbrush and foliage should reach higher than his head, not barely past his ankles. Bowman stared in bewilderment at a caterpillar inching along a low hanging tuft of leaves in front of his face. It wasn’t even the size of his smallest finger. And those leaves …
He twisted around to look over his shoulder just in time for his wings to flare open. Verdant and strong, they looked like the leaves he’d been staring at.
Only much, much bigger.
He couldn’t spread them out without bumping into the trees. Bowman frowned incredulously as he had to actually shift his wings around trees, for the space between them was no longer adequate. His wingspan, normally a proud nine inches wide, had to be almost fourteen feetnow.
Heat bloomed in his cheeks. His eyes widened. Bowman drew in a sharp breath, and blurted “I’m blasted human-sized!? “
He didn’t dwell on the how for very long. He had to find out where Jacob was. He’d been “hanging out” with the human, as Jacob put it, just before this.
A notion struck him. If he had grown, what if Jacob had, too? The thought of a giant, an even gianter-giant, in Wellwood dropped ice in his stomach. Jacob, already towering over the sprites of Wellwood, towering over the very trees? He could even dwarf the Big Oak in the center of the forest.
Bowman almost took a step. The grass and leaves on the forest floor rustled as he lifted his weight off them. He looked down, marveling at the sight.
He was high in the air, but he was standing on the ground. Like a stone, it hit him, and Bowman’s eyelids fluttered. The dizziness from his perspective shift was late, but all the more potent for it. He put out a hand to lean against the nearest tree and then promptly glared at it for having an unexpected texture. His wings twitched and knocked into a low branch behind him.
Bowman heard his heart pounding in his ears. He covered his eyes with his other hand and drew his over large wings to his back. He had to focus. If Jacob-turned-colossus was this dizzy, he could trip and fall right onto the village. Bowman needed to find him.
His resolve settled enough to hold up his balance. Mostly. Bowman released one more slow breath in a hiss, and dragged his hand down his face.
The smallness of the forest unnerved him. He scowled again. They needed to fix this. He took a shaky step. Then another. He paused to sway, and then took another, much steadier step.
The curse, so familiar, was quieter than Bowman had ever heard it. Instead of a loud, thunderous sound that rolled through the air like a storm, Bowman almost missed it between the sound of the foliage and the wind and the birds in the forest.
He looked down and was dizzy all over again, but not from the perspective.
A small shape clad in a familiar orange hooded jacket sat on the ground barely inches away from Bowman’s boot. A tiny, pale face aimed up at him, and though it was too far away for most details, Bowman could imagine the shock. He knelt down with a gasp and the small shape flinched in surprise from his movements.