Twitter Art Micro-Stories: February 15-28, 2021 March 1, 2021 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments "I could listen to her until the rivers have cried their last tears and the sun looks upon this world no more. I will fly forever to be at her side. My love for her is as the fire of the sun. If one day it might burn out, there will never again be light in this world."#Romance https://t.co/SV7UDdqZYA— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 28, 2021 'Tread with care, if you dare, upon the path to war. When mankind decides that peace is too much to bear, millions are martyred to the glory of failed ideals and the folly that is the glory of war, and we forge fresh furrows in the ground and plant the blood and bones of others.' https://t.co/T2OoiJGVtg— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 28, 2021 'Deep in the forest where wild creatures dwell, deep in the darkness little sunlight fell. Deep in the thicket small spirits hide, deep in the woods sickly spells reside, tread lightly stranger lest you wander too far, as where you thought you were may not be where you are.' https://t.co/3KqnodpYEG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'The lantern in the dark wood was a local mystery that none cared to solve. The children dared not go near, for all the stories they had heard. Their parents would not discuss it nor answer any questions. None could explain how it got there, nor how it stayed alight at night.' https://t.co/N8Uc6XaKSk— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'So often do those that are hunted disguise themselves, adorning themselves in colors and forms to hide amid their world from those that would devour, that we often forget to look between the leaves for the hunters as equally adept at seeming harmless just before they strike.' https://t.co/PPACHGUeZy— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'Such scary slopes surround us, shielding the sunset from our sight, standing sentry, serene sentinels of stone and soil. Some summit such staggering sierras, straining in struggle at each slip, seeking secure support as their strength is spent. Simply for a splendid sight.' https://t.co/q0QFnMzRoU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'For some, the searing sun of summertime may be sublime, but not all. A few find favor in the chill caress of the winds of winter, in the solitude of snow, and the comforting caress of the cold. For these, there is no sweeter sight than morning mists in the dim dawn of the day.' https://t.co/zyTfoCIuEJ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'As we age, as we grow, as we travel through troubles and tribulations we must survive strife and sorrows. Every encounter etches itself upon us, every battle leaves bruises and burns. Often we carry remnants of our foes, now pieces of our person. The scars we bear make us anew.' https://t.co/WLWTZstOPa— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 27, 2021 'These foreboding omens were fearsome and frightening to any who dared past them into the sacred sepulcher of lost souls. Many turned back, aghast and appalled when seeing the skulls. But these were not meant to ward away wanderers, but to guard them from the spirits beyond.' https://t.co/hqgmk79Oq6— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 26, 2021 'In hindsight its destruction was inevitable. Maybe the artist knew that but they had not. No, they had erected it upon the remote little world, a monument to their fallen members as testament to their toils, a reminder of the risks of their trade. Now it perished from the same.' https://t.co/OwiSEx4x7q— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 26, 2021 'The pass through the misty mountains passes past their house, but none knock on their door, not even lost travelers in need of aide. None bother them, nor let their gaze linger for long on their home. It seems like such a simple house, but all consider it ill-omened somehow.' https://t.co/uCa7VUWKlE— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 26, 2021 'She spoke, but no one listened. It was not her words that were wrong or unwise, they were not. It was not for lack of understanding of the matters at hand or the times in which they lived, she knew all too well such things. It is that she spoke softly in an age of loud men.' https://t.co/w5mvjeIs80— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'There once was a city here, though you could not tell. Ancient were the days and long were the ages it stood, a citadel against the margin of the mighty men that would spell its doom. There once was an empire here, though you would never know as time has washed away its sins.' https://t.co/LYoIE3qK3K— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'Trees felled long ago, now but worn wood, long abandoned, long forgot, long come to rest deep in a forest far from where its journey began. Fashioned to form and function, the long dead lumber at last could repose beneath the shade of its own, to decay and give life to another.' https://t.co/QscWlDLH0i— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'Many feared this colossus of the cove, this demon of the deep. Many imagined all manner of horror and violence of the creature, fearing its size and shape, sneaking silently from the surf in search of seals and sharks. They thought it evil, yet it only wanted to hunt in peace.' https://t.co/tvbvHtJnYs— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'Oh what cursed country, what scorched and sundered soil must this be that even the fearsome and furious ursine must tread with caution? Oh loathsome land of legend that even the most terrifying of Terra's creatures crafts shell and sheild? Best beware where bears go not bare.' https://t.co/dxAufD95Jx— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'The gods are not kind nor gentle, sparing neither mortal nor the mighty in their fits of fury. Beware the ire of immortals, fear the anger of angels, and tremble when titans tear at the seas and skies! When gods and monsters make war, they hold little distinction to mortals.' https://t.co/9GX7RYuJBZ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'At first it was but a humble lighthouse, granting guidance to all who might otherwise shatter upon the shore. As ages advanced and dangers arose, soldiers were stationed, a castle constructed, and slowly but surely the grandest of cities took hold upon the rocks above the seas.' https://t.co/5TPYI9O2q4— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 25, 2021 'What wonders we work in this world, what monumental mastery we have managed over our every environment, no longer challenged, no longer threatened, no longer held back by the perils of this planet or any other. But still, we must wonder, at what expense? Are we now the danger?' https://t.co/NqZei5Tnba— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 24, 2021 'We work so diligently designing and forging our faces, those masks we make so none can know us, so that we can hide how frightening we believe our flaws to be. But the facade is fragile. Once cracked, the carefully constructed construct can crumble at the slightest stress.' https://t.co/S0IM6M7HPZ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 24, 2021 'Up on high summits, beyond the wall of the world, clouds swirl and the storms gather. The gods are angry once more, and all mortals cower and seek shelter wherever they might. Thunder and lightning herald doom and destruction from beyond the abode of heaven, and all must pray.' https://t.co/nmnlqrEBws— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 24, 2021 'The world we see is but the surface. There is so much hidden beneath and beyond, so many details we cannot perceive and do not appreciate, so much effort and energy to this world around us, a world we barely know and take for granted. So many struggle to break the surface.' https://t.co/03lmK3XrPJ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 24, 2021 'Some could not see them swim above the sea, some could not hear their songs calling out over the surface to each other as they danced above the waves. Some would never see the spirits, but they could hear her music as she serenaded the souls, they could hear and mourn with her.' https://t.co/VZCkXtLoF4— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 23, 2021 'Every noble knight is given a quest or calling, a sacred commission that no other can answer, a duty they will be called to answer against all odds, steadfast before any foe or danger. The young knight was no different, but never imagined he would be called to serve the crows.' https://t.co/ocwWFUJgen— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'We are the sum of our experiences, a crafting of our cares and caresses, our tragedies and triumphs, our traditions and traumas, of all the loves and losses that have blessed and cursed our past and all the hopes and dreams that promise a tomorrow where there is now but doubt.' https://t.co/OZXxbO2uHx— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'Such a simple song sings the sea, such a sibilant serenade, constantly composed of a million billion movements across myriad millennia, ending only when the sands shift and the shore subsides, not an end to the endless symphony of the surf, only a subtle change of venue.' https://t.co/L2wE0pNYGK— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'Their patterns were not natural. The spinners of silk and weavers of webs did not hatch with such specific designs upon their countenance. They were sacred to the region, but not for what could be found upon them, but because they were caught and drawn upon as acts of worship.' https://t.co/0Al0RHwM76— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'This was a quiet forest, of few inhabitants and little note. Upon occasion a strong storm would shift the trees and bring one of their number to the ground, but that was all that disturbed the wood. Indeed, his was a quiet place, but it was in such places that real magic dwelt.' https://t.co/XDCI7UzSiv— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'Theirs was not a romance for the ages, theirs was a love so simple, so plain, so pure that none would take note, none would remark beyond a passing smile and a nod. But to them, none of this mattered. Their love was theirs and theirs alone, and was more precious than all else.' https://t.co/rarXQpJoSC— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'From life to death, death to life, life to death and again to life. From before to beyond, the endless cycle from one to the other progresses, from past to present and on into perpetuity. Each generation of the moment inheriting from the one before and succeeding into the next.' https://t.co/3mb0WaYv95— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 21, 2021 'The room was empty other than the mirror. Empty, if you did not count the echo from the bare walls, if you did not count the hollow sound of her voice, the hollow words repeated back to her as she stared at a reflection she did not want. It was an empty room, other than her.' https://t.co/kg2vPg0UkI— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 17, 2021 'In the lands of ice and fire, where sulfur seeps from fiery fissures and winds smother with smoke and snow, in the lands where ice and ash render every step treacherous, the few you will find are the forlorn and the forgotten, freezing or fleeing fires in exile from home.' https://t.co/sNJ6BkqurX— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 17, 2021 'Fairies are rare sights, for those who are not aware, for those who cannot, or will not see the magic of the meadows and the fae of the forests. But for those who know how to look beyond the banal and observe the whimsy of the world, there's a faerie princess for every flower.' https://t.co/swcI7rXlTr— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 17, 2021 'We build whole worlds in our minds, entire societies around notions that we matter, that what we create in the moments we are here means something. But everything falters, everything fades, falling to dust and decay over time. None of it matters unless we make it matter now.' https://t.co/SwS1I7QFH4— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 16, 2021 'There is a mood well known to man, where you do what little you can, where the best you can manage, is to get through life with no damage, at least no more than what you were born, feared and furious and forlorn. There is a mood we all attempt, to live a life without contempt.' https://t.co/zr9rCZokxS— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 16, 2021 'Within the deep forest, amidst the boughs and leaves, behind the bushes and shadows, what dwells in the branches weaves? What wild, carefree creatures cavort, seemingly secure in their serene sanctuary, what mysterious monsters make their home here in the deep woods all alone?' https://t.co/fIx4KxqFe7— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 16, 2021 'The heart is where the homeland is, or so they say when you move away. Absence makes the heart grow fonder no matter where you wander. All those you left behind, will still be there when you find that all your roads lead back to home, when there are no more paths to roam.' https://t.co/7ZvOV3k5Ka— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 15, 2021 'The way of words can only get so far. The way of wisdom can not breach the bounds of man. The way of peace can only beget peace. But the way of wounds can break all bounds and all worlds in search of new conquests, new frontiers. The way of wounds is the way of power and pain.' https://t.co/zYhx8Ata2y— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) February 15, 2021 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesmicrofictionshort story Previous post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: February 1-14, 2021 Next post Book Tour Stop – Interview Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. 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