Twitter Art Micro-Stories: July 2020 July 1, 2020 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments 'The kingdom was a quiet realm. They had little their neighbors envied and far off lands knew them not. Nestled among high mountains, their land was untroubled by the ills of the world, serene in its solitude. It had lasted for ages, stable, staid, and supremely insignificant.' https://t.co/5eO3XKrlgo— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 31, 2020 'All knew nature reclaims what mankind forgets. The trees return and the waters run clean once more. The bricks and stones that once were so carefully crafted and assembled to the will of man, crumble to dust over time. True, man might return, but for now, nature reigns supreme.' https://t.co/5cEjdyXxm9— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 30, 2020 'Few knew about the source of life and where it could be found. So very few had ever seen the spring from which all life arose, the stream that still fed the spirit of the world, the river of all hopes and dreams, so very few knew and they were determined to keep it that way.' https://t.co/W6DP53tk9A— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 29, 2020 'They were calling down the wrath of the gods, so it was said in muttered curses when they erected the spire. They were shunned, feared, hated for their work, but they were never trying to taunt the gods. When the spire worked and free energy flowed, they became gods among men.' https://t.co/KfJYWxd1jd— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 29, 2020 "There are beings of tremendous power out there among the stars, that we can't see with our most powerful telescopes.""Do they know we exist?""They barely know they exist. They're vast, with tendrils throughout space and time, but they're little more than a system of nerves." https://t.co/GNByDohaob— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 29, 2020 'The monks of the mistborn temple were skilled at many things, this was born from the many times they were separated by snows and slides that choked the passes for decades at a time. They were revered as masters of many crafts, but the one prized above all was how they brewed.' https://t.co/UheHVR7sT0— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 28, 2020 'Be wary of the old books, my pupil, for they know things most secret, most dangerous. Within their pages is power, oh yes, but peril as well. Be cautious among the stacks in this library, it is old and its books older still. The walls take on the words, and the weird warps all.' https://t.co/i97CwMBpBU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 28, 2020 'There was no question who was king in this land, no question and no quarrel. The lord was terrifying and solitary, the subjects timid yet thriving. Though they duly feared their sovereign, they lived in peace. The dragon hunted elsewhere, and no threat intruded upon their home.' https://t.co/l0Wbz1wRKo— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 27, 2020 'When the waters came for their stunning city, they did not mourn. When the oceans rose and stole their astonishing achievements, they did not fight. When their mighty metropolis vanished from the surface of the earth, they did not do a thing, as they had died out long before.' https://t.co/8fmMEY5OU3— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 27, 2020 'The world had grown grey with the passing of the ages. The weary old guardian, perhaps the last of his line, would soon pass from this land, and all he could do was fear for the foreboding future, one without any color. Little did he know, only his vision had faded to grey.' https://t.co/l98IZXWvlh— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 27, 2020 'He had a long way to go, but with every step, his bones hurt less, his load became lighter, his mood became brighter. He had a long way to go before his journey's end, but was but little to the long way he had come so far. He could walk a little longer before the end.' https://t.co/yhVR5mmxuW— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 26, 2020 'When they emerged from the places yet untouched by man, they seemed like a dream, the sort you never awake from. The fighting was desperate and unmerciful on both sides. This was a war of survival and all knew it. The last battle between nature and man would be waged with fire.' https://t.co/YhONmuEpZd— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 26, 2020 'They had a plan. They always had a plan. It was a grand plan, spanning many years, drawing upon the labors of many, a plan that would show their might and glory, that they could suborn nature to their whim at any time they wanted. It was a great plan, but nature did not care.' https://t.co/X5kuO4NDqC— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 23, 2020 'The people of the village always celebrated when the ships departed. Their children were on those ships, their cousins worked in the grand world-port, the one that had transformed their world into a nexus of civilization. Their village was a small, but vital part of the galaxy.' https://t.co/tKHQeEw80K— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 22, 2020 "This desert is so far from the sea, so far from any river or lake. How did these boats get here?""They floated.""But how? These sands are among the mountains! No flood could have carried them here!""No flood, no. No river nor stream either.""Then how?""The clouds above…" https://t.co/GjupuxWGkl— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 21, 2020 'They worshiped it as a god. All the mortal deer that looked alike were considered sacred. It was a gentle, benign god, only crushing the occasional village, who must certainly have sinned against it. Truly, they were blessed by such a god, that for the most part ignored them.' https://t.co/5jCHbXJHry— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 21, 2020 'All roads meet in the end. All of the many divergent paths through life, no matter the length, no matter the difficulty, no matter the course through this world, all trails come together in the end. All roads converge to cross through the gateway before the next journey begins.' https://t.co/zE39CkN8yl— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 20, 2020 'It is dark, here in the undergrowth, where the small creatures live and the night flowers bloom. It is dark, here in the undergrowth, where the sunlight comes but rarely. It is dark, here in the undergrowth, dark enough see the tiny lights flit and fly free.' https://t.co/CcS9pzD51D— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 20, 2020 'The tower was not made by man nor beast. Some said the gods shaped it, some said the waves. Others believed that only demons of the depths could have erected such a sinister structure to dominate the coast. No one really knew, but all swore the light it gave was not natural.' https://t.co/V4Df1G0Rs6— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 20, 2020 'They were beautiful. Exotic. Entrancing. The red leaves shimmered in the sunlight, seemingly glowing a bright crimson whenever dawn colors struck their edges. The trees were tranquil upon the empty plain, exuding an enticing odor, deadly to inhale, keeping all threats far away.' https://t.co/ueq1dvLant— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 18, 2020 "Can't believe you're fishing for birds. Birding!""Not birds.""No? Whatcha trying to catch?""Old droids. Ones who have nowhere to charge anymore, whose owners passed on.""Oh yeah? What do you do with them?""Take them in, give them a new home.""…Mind if I help?""Sure!" https://t.co/p4qWrVgaQg— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 16, 2020 'Within the shell of a dead mountain, within the walls of the earth itself, they built a house, safe and sound. No matter the raging storms of the world without, the rocks and bricks would protect those inside, sheltered and secure in their own little world within the world.' https://t.co/gJk1hw0DbO— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 15, 2020 'The trees and grasses came back after the deluge. There was so much more fertile soil to take hold upon. The old land had been swept away, but the plants adapted and seized upon new deposits and new opportunities, forging a fresh new land, bringing life back after the flood.' https://t.co/lc4yabgNhi— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 14, 2020 "There wasn't always two moons.""You're nuts.""No! I swear! The truly ancient texts speak of only one moon!""Then when did the second appear?""No one knows, but there's a gap in the texts of thousands of years, of no writings at all. What I fear, is the arrival of a third…" https://t.co/wZCwHopcdQ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 14, 2020 'Over hundreds of years the path was worn into the ancient stone. Not by purpose, but by a million weary travelers walking up and over the shortest path, by a million tired souls, resting upon the rock as they paused to catch their breath at the top. Now, no one remembered how.' https://t.co/th6Us2Xb30— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020 'Not long ago, one could ford the river, not long ago, this was an undivided land where the river flowed freely below the ancient mountains. Not long ago, there was no gorge, not long ago by the reckoning of the stars. Yet that was a time before the first man, not so long ago…' https://t.co/mPnIY3Wwnq— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020 'The old god was at rest. Many thought him dead. Then, many thought him a legend. Then, many thought of him no more. The old god sat, still and silent through the ages, pondering the passage of time in the movement of the waves. Asag would watch the tides and storms forevermore.' https://t.co/7mG0A3nrao— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020 'The world was new, volatile, fractured and unsettled. Nothing stayed the same for long. Colossal plumes of gas erupted upon the shattered plains, thrusting jagged shards of crumbling rock up from below. No life could survive this hellscape. But, life had never known this world.' https://t.co/d0dOfuYCTU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020 'Lush was the valley below the great peak, filled with all manner of creature and plant thriving among the cold waters. The summer melt brought the waters and the bloom of trees and grass fostered life in the valley for another year. The mountain was dead, but gave forth life.' https://t.co/vKOmPnZ88n— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 11, 2020 'The storm was coming. They all knew it. The birds and the lords of the sky sought refuge at the heart of the gathering tempest, circling, on guard, ready to flee the moment the winds shifted. They all knew the storm was coming, but none knew what would be left once it was gone.' https://t.co/p7B0w5Fziy— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 10, 2020 'It took ages, but the portal was built. It took another age for the people of the doomed world to filter through to the other side, a refuge from their dying lands. The portal stood alone and silent on the dead world. One day it lit up and refugees started to return…' https://t.co/lCMwxHz7zH— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 10, 2020 'It was a long and difficult climb to make an offering to the god of the summit, but every week he would make the journey with thanks in his heart.. Little by little, his fortunes fell and his people died away, but still he sacrificed. Surely, persistence would pay off some day.' https://t.co/0Q44Yl6FkK— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 7, 2020 'Gods, giants, wizards, wyrms, dragons, and demons, all had created the hidden rift valley in the old stories. None knew how it came to be. In truth, it did not matter. Those that settled in the concealed chasm led peaceful, prosperous lives, hidden away from the wider world.' https://t.co/S76xHNh8WB— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 7, 2020 'In the chapel of the vale, there are but few parishioners. The path to the place of worship is treacherous for those who know where it lies. Yet, no matter how few come to pray in the lonely sanctuary, none are turned away for want of wealth. The chapel is a refuge for all…' https://t.co/g5CHsMmR4y— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020 'The songs started at dawn. The haunting wails of the creature wafted across the land as it slid through the air, but none paid it anymore mind than they did the birds or bees. No one knew what they were, but no harm had come in the millennia since they arrived, so none cared…' https://t.co/1Xbhvbz091— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020 "T'was late in the season, the roads were slick with ice. T'was late in the season, the streams had ceased their flow. It was late in the season, his cart was full of spice. T'was late in the season, he made to race the snow. T'was late in the season, the risk worth the price…" https://t.co/zaYcUFZxa7— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesfictionmicrofiction Previous post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: June 2020 Next post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 1-7, 2020 Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment Name * Email * Website Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.