The BFG

Before I had a name, I was a feeling, a whisper of an idea in a cozy writing shed. I was the thought of a giant who wasn't scary, one with ears as big as wagon wheels, perfect for hearing the secret dreams of the world. Can you imagine ears that could hear a ladybug yawn?. I was the idea of a friendship between someone very, very small and someone very, very tall. I floated around with fizzing thoughts of snozzcumbers, which taste of frogskins and rotten fish, and frobscottle, a bubbly drink where the bubbles go down instead of up. These silly, jumbly words waited for my storyteller to catch them in his net of ideas. He knew that even though other giants were nasty, I was different. Then, a little girl with big glasses, an orphan named Sophie, popped into the story, and I knew my adventure was about to begin. I am the Big Friendly Giant, but you can call me The BFG.

My creator was a man with a twinkle in his eye named Roald Dahl. He sat in a special, worn-out armchair in his little brick shed, with a board on his lap and a pencil in his hand. He had actually imagined me once before, in another book of his called 'Danny, the Champion of the World,' which he wrote way back in 1975. In that story, I was just a character in a bedtime tale, but he knew I had a bigger story to tell, a whole world of my own. So, for years, he scribbled away, giving me my mixed-up, gobblefunk words—my special 'Dahlesque' language. He made it so I said things like 'is you right?' instead of 'are you right?' to show I was a gentle, uneducated soul. My story was finally finished and sent out into the world for everyone to read on October 14th, 1982. But I wasn't complete without my look. An artist named Quentin Blake took his scratchy pens and splishy-splashy watercolors and drew me. He gave me my long, skinny legs, my enormous ears, my funny, wrinkly face, and my kind, gentle smile. Roald gave me my heart and my words, and Quentin gave me my face. Together, they made me real for everyone to see.

From the moment my book opened, children seemed to understand me. They didn't mind that I spoke in a muddle, and they giggled at my whizzpopping. They weren't scared of me, even though I was twenty-four feet tall. Instead, they journeyed with me and brave Sophie to the magical Dream Country, where I used my long dream-trumpet to blow golden phizzwizards into the bedrooms of sleeping children. They even came with us to the Queen of England's palace to ask for her help in stopping the other, much nastier giants. Years later, in 1989, I jumped right out of the pages and became a cartoon in an animated movie. It was amazing to see my story moving and talking. Then, in 2016, a famous director named Steven Spielberg made a giant, live-action movie about me. With amazing special effects, he built a realistic Giant Country and made my dream jars sparkle and glow on the big screen. My story of friendship and bravery was shared with a whole new world of children, in theaters all over the globe.

Even though my story was written many years ago, I am still busy. I live inside the pages of my book, in libraries and on bedside tables, waiting for new friends to open the cover and join my adventure. I think my story matters because it shows that heroes come in all shapes and sizes. I am a giant, but it was the small, brave girl Sophie who had the courage to face the Queen. My story is a reminder that you should never judge someone by how they look, that even the quietest person can have the biggest heart, and that a little bit of kindness can stop even the meanest of giants. I hope I will always remind you to believe in the magic of dreams and the power of an unlikely friendship.