Twitter Art Micro-Stories: October 22-31, 2020 November 2, 2020 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments 'It was a precarious place to erect an edifice perched upon the impermanent in the most inconvenient and inaccessible manner. They called the owners mad and other unflattering designations. The owners just replied that all such structures were built upon the unstable in the end.' https://t.co/nAht5Xo7aI— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 31, 2020 'They made camp while they tried to puzzle out the portal. The locals had called them when it first manifested, for they were the experts in portals. But this one was particularly peculiar. At first it hissed and smoked, like all the others, but now it just spit out kittens…' https://t.co/KuT7EfVjlv— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 31, 2020 'No one could figure out how the vikings got there nor could they account for the lack of any other evidence of their journey to and landing on the distant world. Yet the ax was definitely viking in origin, so a day of celebration was declared and the site became a tourist stop.' https://t.co/MPcrTrAEzQ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 31, 2020 'In the umber under-realm, where dreams decay and die, deep beneath the blasted, broken boughs, the undulating under-forge comes alive. Foul fiends feed the fires and dance delightedly to each emerging evil the furnace fires fling forth, another abomination to haunt our sleep.' https://t.co/GxNbibzEhO— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 30, 2020 'Some called her monster, and she could act the monster when made to fear for her life. Some called her devil, and her displeasure seemed demonic to those who spat in her face or sought to subdue her. But she was no more or less than another citizen, simply trying to survive.' https://t.co/k2S4hsG5ID— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 30, 2020 'Every joint scraped and snapped with each step. Every sinew stretched and screeched when it sprang at screaming strangers. Existence was an unending ordeal, no escape from this wretched mortal coil seemed possible. Oh how it wished those damn acolytes had created it correctly.' https://t.co/m3LadsO6Qo— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 30, 2020 'The rains had come again, this time to stay. It had been ages since they had seen the night sky through the glare, it had been only of late that the sky grew dark even as the sun stood high above. Then the rains had come, and natural light became but a memory, a fading dream.' https://t.co/uiTQpodPQG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 30, 2020 'Every evening, when the breakers burst and the waters wash white, shattering upon the sands only to retreat and rise once more, an unrelenting onslaught against the shore, every evening as the searing sun sets, the tide comes in once more, and the promise of a new day tomorrow.' https://t.co/nFs1sUXX8A— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 30, 2020 'It was a cold hard world, where only very strong, very tough creatures could survive, where prey was scarce and mercy unknown. It was to this foreboding frozen wilderness that she came, not as an exile, but as a conqueror. Of all the dangers upon the snows, she would be queen.' https://t.co/1AvkBTtyPH— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 29, 2020 'A forest floor filled with fish and fucus, a marine maze brimming with beasts of the brine, some hunted, some hunter, some one and then the other. Life beneath the washing waves, hidden from those above, thrives with lives few can imagine and most will never witness.' https://t.co/s1lGPW5mRb— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 29, 2020 'It took centuries for the tribes of the island to come together as a single people. It took further centuries for those tribes to cease their struggles for dominance over the others. When the outsiders arrived, they found but one tribe, one with a long, bloody history to tell.' https://t.co/AW6ZXRnarC— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 29, 2020 'Through gleam or gloom, through forest and over field, the silent hunter soars, ever watching, ever waiting, ever alert for any movement, any sign of something small scurrying from one hidden hole to another reclusive refuge from the seeker, the silent stalker in the sky.' https://t.co/Q7OkDsEt9A— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 29, 2020 'Far forbidden lands, filled with foreign fortunes to be found! Far from home, in regions related by rumor, where exotic exploits and impossible adventures await, the young and the restless venture forth, in search of strange, only to find the mere mundane in unfamiliar flavors.' https://t.co/mVSKSGVUYk— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 29, 2020 'Beside babbling brooks, beneath banks of billowing blue and grey clouds, life was languid and could be so sweet and simple. This far removed from one's fellows, fear and fashion seem so slight, so silly, almost as if the concerns and cares of crowds never needed notice.' https://t.co/TYFirFgemM— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 28, 2020 'It was a gibbering, shuddering abomination, lurching about the abandoned artifacts its ancient ancestors, seeking for sustenance, scouring for souls to suck and sup upon. Its entire existence was pain, yet still it hungered for subsistence, to survive and search some more.' https://t.co/AuG4a53JTL— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 28, 2020 'Theirs was a special calling, far afield in the frontier. Theirs was a mission to minister to the meandering miscreants, if ever such sought solace for their sins. There was nothing of value in the Chapel of the Cleft Channel, nothing but the absolution of man for other men.' https://t.co/mKYJLipK79— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 28, 2020 'All was serene and secure in the demesne of the demon lord. One could not imagine a more peaceful or stable kingdom. There were no wars, no unrest, no poverty, no hunger, and, alas, no people at all. Indeed, it was peaceful, for it was Pax Sepulcrum, the peace of the grave.' https://t.co/5OFhPqBnbm— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 28, 2020 'The bird of light would not be able to dodge forever, nor could it take to the sky and flee, not with the world in peril. It would have to swoop and slash again and again, to harry the horrible world eater until the wizard's spell could take hold and bind the monster once more.' https://t.co/GGKjCbTmYm— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 28, 2020 'There are many gods and lesser spirits that rule our world every day, gods of fearsome forces, and for every mighty mountain and river upon the land. There are spirits for every living thing and even rocks and sand. But few know of the color pixie that brings joy in both hands.' https://t.co/OdbFeb7Axy— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 26, 2020 'The new tower was safe and secure, though all who came and went grumbled for the long weary path to its gates. The tower could be closer to the valley floor, they said to any who would listen. Yes, they groused even in the shadow of the old tower that had flooded and fallen.' https://t.co/but96c0k2o— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 26, 2020 'Worship The Sun!, the imperial command, shouted every priest in the land and people bent knee and raised hand. Worship The Sun!, the wailing cry as shadows rolled across the sky and darkness grew nigh. Worship The Sun! was the refrain when light came again where night had lain.' https://t.co/v0DcxQeom0— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 26, 2020 'Some worlds are dead, destroyed by near neighbors, by their own chaotic convulsions, or burned out by their own stars. Some are devastated by the very life they spawn and host. Yet, even dead worlds can know renewal, as new, unfathomable life arises to churn the soot into soil.' https://t.co/356ZQ1zWN5— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 26, 2020 'Beware the Old Wood with trees so tall and bare. Beware the Old Wood, where only darkness dare. Beware the sorrowful silence where nothing living stirs. Beware the dead trees where past and future blurs. Beware the Old Gods of the Old Wood, who watch in wait for fools to snare.' https://t.co/NMvNGQ6j66— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 26, 2020 'Terrified, out here, all alone, in the dark wood where none were to venture, she startled at every sound, flinched at every falling leaf. Somewhere out there the fabled Night Mother crept. The further she wandered, the more shadows enveloped her. Then, her eyes lit the night.' https://t.co/qi1csFcDjC— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 23, 2020 "Where do you go today, dear one?""Why, into the forest to get to the other side.""Why do you enter the dark forest, so full of dangers and the unknown?""To visit a dear old love, of course.""A close friend, a beloved old member of the family?""I come to visit you, silly!" https://t.co/au57RIEOOe— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 23, 2020 'The scars we bear are monuments to the damage done by those around us, by an uncaring world, and even wounds we inflict upon ourselves. The wounds may heal, after a fashion, but the marks remain, marring our appearance, both what the world sees, and how we perceive ourselves.' https://t.co/wxDYGnvAMU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 23, 2020 'Once more the towers stood, once more the walls had thrown back the forces arrayed against them. They were the worse for wear, as they were after every siege, but had held and were safe for another year and they could take the time to mend the Fortress of the New Dawn anew.' https://t.co/KsGeuG0uTH— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 23, 2020 'He was not at all sure she was real when he first spied her among the crowd. It was a masquerade, and all about her dismissed her strange appearance as illusion, but her aspect troubled him. She kept staring at him with her deep dark eyes, and he could not help but shudder.' https://t.co/stFkKRiwwj— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 22, 2020 'She was not lost. She had never seen this place before, nor the wonders that appeared before her. She had no idea where she was or what lay ahead. She did not even know how to return to anywhere she had been before, but she was most definitely not lost. She was on an adventure.' https://t.co/SLUc1xZHxT— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 22, 2020 'Another lost soul, another effortless apprehension, another bounty he would forget the details of before his afternoon tea. Just another contract. Just another job to get by another week in the modern world. They didn't even register as individuals anymore, barely human at all.' https://t.co/ZpTjhgmumP— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 22, 2020 'A life lived under the scrutiny of an invisible god is a fearful, terrifying affair, where every doubt reflects divine judgement and every mistake may be eternally fatal. How much more horrifying must it be when a god is actually manifest, watching, waiting, and ravenous?' https://t.co/qFs6wcRil7— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 22, 2020 'Most think force must be met with force, that the greater the power of a foe, the stronger one must be to resist. And yet, the eagle flees from the crow, and tyrants fear those they oppress, not from strength, but from their persistence and determination to drive off predators.' https://t.co/A1OLLLlghG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) October 22, 2020 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesmicrofictionshort story Previous post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: October 15-21, 2020 Next post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 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.