Dragon in the Storm by Federico Cimini Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 8-14, 2020 November 17, 2020 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments 'The world can be so bleak at times, so lacking in options, so devoid of destiny. Often it seems the odds are against us and our very future is uncertain. And it is. It always has been this way, but certainty is not necessary for survival and we can find hope even in desolation.' https://t.co/gqQAoPMS5D— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 13, 2020 'Being a child of destiny is a challenge, from fending off resentful rivals and fabled foes to roving where none but ferocious fiends have tread before, all to fulfill some ancient prophecy that predicted your prodigy so long ago. Sometimes dragons are the least of your worries.' https://t.co/Z86bSBP8b3— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 13, 2020 'Is it a making or an unmaking? Is it the end of the world or the birth of anew? Apocalypses are always appalling to all affixed to the ancient. Change can be catastrophic, but it can also invigorate otherwise stagnant and dying worlds. Just don't get caught in the cataclysm.' https://t.co/nGW1zJuZa2— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 13, 2020 'We would stand in their shadows, aspiring to inspire as even their images in effigy inflame the intellects and actions of so many even millennia after. We measure ourselves against their out-sized influences and wonder if ever we will stand as tall as these heroes of ages ago.' https://t.co/J72akPUo97— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 13, 2020 'What it seeks cannot be found, not in this world or the next, neither in the past nor the future, for what it seeks would be the undoing of all, the unraveling of reality in ways we cannot imagine. It is not of this world and we pray it never finds what it is looking for.' https://t.co/vo6C1H5c1K— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 13, 2020 'It was not a sacred place, just a secret place, where the stone snake slithered when the sun soared overhead and seared every surface. Here, nobody bothered it, here it could rest and recuperate from the struggles only golems knew. Even stones need a soak every so often…' https://t.co/AJ1wVtpS26— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 12, 2020 'Amid murky muddled meditations of infinite introspection and endless irksome irritations, one must remember to relax, to breathe and banish bothersome banalities, to smell the sweet scents of spring and savor serenity wherever we would wander, whenever we can remember to rest.' https://t.co/zkgM5T5qZk— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 11, 2020 'There is a freedom in flight, a solitude of the skies where nothing but the sun and the clouds can climb higher. It was only through tremendous effort and extravagant expense of energy that such a mighty creature could attain the air but it was worth it all to rule the heavens.' https://t.co/FyJvohgeeM— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 11, 2020 'It is ever the great gulfs before us that give us pause, it is ever the daunting deeds we have not yet done that stay our steps and destroy our dreams, the seemingly insurmountable summits and yawning chasms that could still swallow us whole. We forget the wars we already won.' https://t.co/jMGKHFeOWg— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 11, 2020 'It was ever the same. The seekers, the searchers, the silent souls struggling to see something somewhere, anything anywhere other than the outer edges of infinity, bound between past and present, ever evading the edges of eternity in the muddled memory of their lost lives.' https://t.co/Pm1i3uTAtL— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 11, 2020 'Swirling sands, whipping waves, clashing and calamitous clouds portending dark destinies for all lingering life upon this wasting world…. The storm serpent was a cyclical advent, arising every aeon to erase the errors of another age to renew the world in another wave of woe.' https://t.co/t8LMWyyCOG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 11, 2020 'The sacred spirit tree that grew from the mountain, the world tree with its web of roots that tapped deep rivers and shifted sands many miles away, was worshiped by every people in one way or another. They came to offer prayer and tribute, or they came to weep at its beauty.' https://t.co/Tfmrj7KPFe— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 10, 2020 'We always wondered why they were so scared, why they always fled from sight whenever we glimpsed them scurrying across our paths or between dense clumps of grass. We imagined they were afraid of us though we left them alone. But then, perhaps they were fleeing something else…' https://t.co/UkcUjRuLeK— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 10, 2020 'It was but an unavoidable evolution of a wanton, wasteful world, one more harbinger of the end of everything reckless, everything rash in this world transformed to serve but one species, to serve so few of all who had survived so far, survived until now…. It was inevitable.' https://t.co/0hVc1wXbkK— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 10, 2020 'Oh mighty city in the sun, once home to many now to none, how does the light shimmer from your walls, now does the wind whistle through your halls. Long were your glories, your rule over all, short was your destruction, swift was your fall. Now but a ruin, now but an omen…' https://t.co/legosiS21G— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 10, 2020 'It was a sacred wood for the mages, but not as a source of their powers. There were great magics to be found here, to be certain, but they were not the same mystic forces they wielded. No, these were wild magics, untapped and forbidden from exploration, reserved for nature.' https://t.co/irbUHXZqUq— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 10, 2020 'Untouched, untrammeled, untamed in an age when even the furthest fields and ranges were being claimed and named by the ever enveloping encroachment of mankind. This land was yet free of such settlements, the indomitable domain of some of the other living creatures of the world.' https://t.co/GOsuBTbh3Z— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 9, 2020 'It was a long journey for anyone so old, a route that would challenge even one far younger. And yet he trudged along, alone, unafraid of the dangers. This was a trip he had made many times before, and would again many times again. This pilgrimage was his duty, and his alone.' https://t.co/yCxzpErrGm— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 9, 2020 'The birds knew the way. The birds always knew where to find shelter from the sadistic storm of the sun. His were the first footsteps for unimaginable aeons, echoing along the narrow canyon cliffs, so sharp and steep so as to safeguard the secrets of the past for so long.' https://t.co/60xVB1jzp5— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 9, 2020 'The more you see the more you learn the more you know the more you think the more you dream the more you want the more you seek the more you find the more you see the more you learn the more you know the more you think the more you dream the more you want the more you seek…' https://t.co/HZbGNaku2s— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 9, 2020 'His friends had warned him of the woogie of the woods, had told him lurid tales of terror, teasing him for his fears of shadows and wild creatures. His friends had goaded him, dared him to enter the woods and find the woogie and he had, thinking it was all a lie. It was no lie.' https://t.co/vetwLW7g4r— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 9, 2020 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesmicrofictionshort story Previous post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 1-7, 2020 Next post Once Upon A Lane Anniversary Sale! 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.