Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 1-7, 2020 September 1, 2020 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments 'Upon his mighty steed he would rush into the fray! No force, no matter how grand, could stand against his charge! There was no man nor beast he could not vanquish, that he would not challenge in an instant! The brave little knight knew no fear nor foe who would not flee!' https://t.co/ESzAvRhTJg— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 7, 2020 'The letter! He had to reach the it! It was all he had to fend off the stalkers! It was all he still had of her! It would not help him, would not stop the shadows from closing in, clutching at him, reaching in and stealing his heart. It would not help, but he didn't know that.' https://t.co/rz6rAPPhcb— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 7, 2020 'When you slumber will you sleep, or will nightmares seep and creep? When you slip into respite and drift into eternal night, will you whisper soft sweet nothings to the fading light? Let the world wash away when you say farewell today, Forbid the pain any more to say…' https://t.co/CpGcikNnqQ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 7, 2020 'The old divide, the ancient path to promise, the trail through trials and tears across the years… The way through the old wood stood silent now, few seemed to care for the tales of old, none tread through the deadwood for fear and dread that the old answers might be true…' https://t.co/FUCStdfjyp— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 7, 2020 'Half mouth, half gut, half madness, half exhausted from work and all the idiotic customers demanding he treat them like kings, Max was not an abominable horror from the abyss anyone should want to mess with this Monday morning. Yet still, somehow, all the fools found him…' https://t.co/TgaDmIUMUf— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 7, 2020 'So many quests, so many battles! Endless were their travels and the dangers they faced, always another conquest ahead for her and her friends! Of course, they were not real, these adventures and companions, but it did not really matter. They were still hers to have and to love.' https://t.co/kEndTgZ8Gv— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 6, 2020 'This had to mean something, this all had to mean something, surely, some of this had to mean something! Was this life? A blending of signs and symbols, of others thoughts and long ago dreams? Could an identity just be all these put together? Or was there more to one out there?' https://t.co/IwrVraUDQx— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 6, 2020 'They traveled at night to avoid the terrorbeasts that ruled the day. This was the way of it anymore. Long lost was the memory of any other life, up there above the ravines, atop the world, before it split asunder. Still, they were alive, there was hope, there would be a future.' https://t.co/E1zOtbNzH8— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 6, 2020 'There it was again, the glimmer star. Some only saw it once in their lifetimes, some never at all. She had seen it again and again in her travels. It seemed to follow her, to haunt her hunt for answers. Or, perhaps, she was following the star. Perhaps that was what she hunted.' https://t.co/6y30jH8KNH— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 6, 2020 'The winds of winter, the white wights of the callous cold, whipping down from frozen mountains and glaciers, whirling through gouge and vale driving both heat and hope from the land, denying the life and light from all who do not flee, to all who would cower! The storm is here!' https://t.co/rGPPL1og54— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 6, 2020 ''They painted their frills with larger faces. It took hours every day, but it worked. Now they could scare off large monsters with their false eyes. Of course, it did not work on the humans, not the same way. They'd huff and hiss, and the humans would laugh and let them alone.' https://t.co/MhiUIx8RcC— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 5, 2020 'The gods were dying. All their gifts given, all their life spent on their creations. They had birthed the cosmos and all of life, but at the cost of their own. Every new life wounded the gods. Yet, even the last, with his dying breaths, gave a little more to their children…' https://t.co/Lr4d0u37Vi— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 5, 2020 'Life always thrives along alluvial plains, the prairies laid down by wandering rivers, no longer bound by the rocks and the hills. The waters bring life and bring land and many build lives upon their shores, but when they flood and shift their course, those lives are in danger.' https://t.co/IyQzLf39WU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 5, 2020 'It was the skull that did it, it was the skull that turned others away and made small children scream. It could not be helped. The skull was part of the craft. He was always asked if he was a necromancer and he would say no. He was a technonecromancer. He resurrected dead tech.' https://t.co/EB8nVNWhVQ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 5, 2020 'The age of legends, the age of wonder, the age of discovery, the age of the ancients, when the world was wondrous and wild. These times were spoken of with worshiping words in revered whispers. But life in that age was a struggle, and none who lived then would wish to return…' https://t.co/fJD6qc61z9— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 5, 2020 'They said he was older than the hills. This was a lie, but he was older than the others. Theirs was a short lived species, at least it seemed that way. Goblins died young, far younger than him. His secret was simple, he did not go off to fight, content to smoke and think.' https://t.co/Dpkyw6Qctx— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 4, 2020 'She only had eyes for the sky, for the far off clouds in their hues and shadows. She fantasized of shapes that were not there, of creatures most peculiar and what it would be like to fly away forever. She had eyes for the skies, but her faithful pooch had eyes only for her.' https://t.co/tzdHwZxoFP— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 4, 2020 ''It was time. It was time once again for the acolytes of the old rites to gather together, to let the blood and murmur the musty mutterings only they knew, that only they dare utter under barely held breaths but once a generation. It was time for old oaths and renewed rituals.' https://t.co/isoEmhuUUl— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 4, 2020 'Here were the dark old ways, here were the roots of all that slept while all else crept nearby in caution. The wolf sniffed and smelt the danger. It should not be here, it knew, but something was calling it from the darkness, something old and dead and altogether dreadful…' https://t.co/5H8lAOYOJh— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 4, 2020 'The mew, the purr, the itty bitty pretty kitty with the adorable eyes for its size. Cute and charming, they should be alarming, but cats are disarming and have captured our hearts and souls with but a twitch of whiskers and flick of tails. Oh what lovely little murder machines!' https://t.co/FfINGr2KJ0— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 4, 2020 'This was a land of walking pots, of working appliances that never tired, never ceased. But this was not the clockwork world the mage knew, not the automated world where the mage's craft was castigated and excoriated. This was a land of magic hitherto unknown for the learning…' https://t.co/h5p2pylpxH— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 3, 2020 'The goblins did not understand the things they used, could not craft their clothes or forge their fiendish blades. What they used was stolen, and their warpaint was inspired by the humans they fought. Their likeness did not scare them, but they knew it frightened their foes…' https://t.co/YsL1xnG6gr— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 3, 2020 'Others often observed that they built their villages in remote regions, near sheltered springs amid steep summits. Surely they, the raiders and ravagers feared by so many, would not need to guard their lands so well. But there were monsters to the north none else had seen…' https://t.co/PBBScV0cH3— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 3, 2020 '"Do they know?""No… how could they?""Sometimes… it seems as if they see us….""No…. They only see the world they make, the world they use. They cannot see beyond themselves…."So the spirits said, and so the spirits stood silent, waiting for mankind to wake…' https://t.co/MTdTENanrS— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 3, 2020 '"It's so beautiful! You really captured the magic of the night!""Oh, thank you! But I didn't capture anything.""Oh but you did! It's like it transports me there, among the trees! It's so vivid, so alive!""It is, but still, I didn't capture the magic. It captured me…"' https://t.co/L98wYDEL1w— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 3, 2020 'Oh the languid haze of the days, when the ease and laze of the misty greys kept the sky in a glaze of smoke and haze, when all live in a daze. Alas but a furtive phase, before the sun's rays would raze and raise the haze to reveal the herds that graze along the ways.' https://t.co/V4BqzEjs3A— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 2, 2020 'She came to the shore to see the sea, she came to the cove to breathe and be free. But what she beheld stole her breath and froze her mind. There she was, resting on the rocks, studying her still form in turn. Another who had come to the sands to search and see and be free…' https://t.co/eZSPI8zelZ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 2, 2020 'Visions unknown before this moment, dreams that could not be dreams, the world unmade and unfolding into itself. Meditation and diligence had allowed a fuller understanding of all, but now he knew fear. What he had learned he did not want, but what he saw could not be unseen.' https://t.co/PZUPL7MuXU— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 2, 2020 'Do not wake the wrath-wryn, do not walk the frozen rocks, or tread upon the grey snows! There are many things one must not do, and many one should not know, and many places you should no go. But whatever you do, do not seek the spark-spitter, lest it speak and unmake the world!' https://t.co/mn67WlGv5s— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 2, 2020 'Spark and thunder, boom and clash! Seek ye shelter from the crash, from the waves to wash away, from the wind and from the spray! The storm knows not mercy, knows not grace, knows not but to churn and toss and chase! Smash on rock and scorch the sky, flee and hide lest ye die!' https://t.co/imolDL6m8R— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 2, 2020 '"Peek'aboo! I see you!" Only she could see it, or so they said. It was all in her mind, this playmate with the large black eyes, or so they said. But they never looked where she pointed, never turned their heads when they told her these things, and she knew they saw it too…' https://t.co/iVs7nN0DgG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 1, 2020 'Oh how the mortals trembled, oh how the craven cowered beneath the specter in the sky! Haunting and hateful and horrid to behold, the spectral omen loomed ominously over their lives, and all mortals obeyed. Odd that it never struck, but there was no need. Fear alone ruled them.' https://t.co/8lSW5ciJHq— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 1, 2020 'Foul creatures! Always taking the farmer's fruit! Always flitting in amongst the stems, spiriting away the succulent sweets, laughing and flying away before they can be caught! Yet all children knew, it was only the sour ones the silly sprites stole, that the rest could thrive.' https://t.co/c2AoheCtGD— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 1, 2020 'What a beautiful day to play! What fun to be had in the surf and the sand! Any child's delight, to run and dance, to dash between waves and feel the sun! Oh what fun to be had on a day like today! All the child wants is but to have fun, all the parent wants is but to watch…' https://t.co/LHzYzc9Aj2— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 1, 2020 'The setting of the sun and rising of the moon heralds the end of the life of the day and all the beasts that dwell by light. By the dim glow of the moon, in the deep of the night, the little fires light and fly and dance. The day is home to others, the night is theirs to own.' https://t.co/A28AYhp3Fw— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 1, 2020 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesmicrofictionshort story Previous post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 22-31, 2020 Next post The God Of The Gaps – New Patreon exclusive short story 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.