Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 15-21, 2020 September 21, 2020 / duncanwilsonauthor / 0 Comments 'Every day is an opportunity. So often we are told that the next day is our moment, that tomorrow we will win, but every day is now, and we cannot wait for our moment to arrive, we cannot let life simply happen. Every day is chance to take, the moment for us to make our own.' https://t.co/h4iDmXNc18— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 21, 2020 'So often we forget that tragedy is transient, that no storm stays forever. With each loss and languish, there will ever be the dawning of a day when the clouds retreat, the shadows lift, and joy nd light shine through once more. We just need to hold onto hope until that day.' https://t.co/wmfzz969yi— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 21, 2020 'For days, no, months had she waited, for months she had masqueraded, biding her time for the right moment, for the perfect opportunity to strike, to cut down the tyrant that had oppressed them all for so long. For too many years had they all waited for her to act and end him.' https://t.co/WNmOE20QQ2— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 21, 2020 'Tides of terror, foam and fire flashing from fantail to fore! What wailing amid the whip of the waves, cannonade cascading from corvette to corsair, cutting and casting both crew and craft from detonating deck to dark depths below! The devil would have the damned due this day.' https://t.co/2XxXWN8end— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 21, 2020 'She had not chosen this life, no one chooses this life. No one wants to be hunted or haunted by blood spilled or souls shattered. She had not chosen the cruelty nor castigation put upon her and prosecuted by her in turn. She had not chosen but it was her life, her life to rule.' https://t.co/7p3dtl2LED— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 21, 2020 'Echos from the emptiness, sounds within silence, the night is terror to those without sound or sight. One step looks much like the next, and all the trees seem the same in the snows. Spheres within circles, and the hunter awaits, watching for the moment all the circles close.' https://t.co/WAsEkLhhr1— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 20, 2020 'The warrior of her people, their champion in the face of danger, she was their shield against invader and tyrant alike. Long had she trained in the craft of her forerunners, diligent were her drills, true was her oath to ancestors and clan. She might fall, but only by fighting.' https://t.co/st7YRJLamS— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 20, 2020 'They stood about him, terrified, transfixed, tamed. There was no resisting, there was no protesting, no other choice to be had in the presence of the god. No spear was raised, no scream or shout, no howl, no growl, all creatures great or small cowered in worship and in peace.' https://t.co/KVoqTKnCM9— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 20, 2020 'There lies the crossroads before you. You can go no further forward and you cannot retreat. What lies behind is no longer and what lies beyond is an illusion, never to be real. You must choose a path, to one side or the other, you must choose or be doomed to stand here forever.' https://t.co/aooYNt1uMM— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 20, 2020 'Solemn, serene, surrounded by soft clouds and sylvan valleys, the solitary peak with its snow covered slopes is the silent soul of the land. Storms break on its sides, streaming water to the world below. Once terrible to behold, never to rumble again, the dead stone gives life.' https://t.co/TYa5EBbdbM— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 20, 2020 'Everything can feel so empty when linger at the edge of eternity, staring of into the open abyss, wondering about meanings that may not matter. Perspective can bring panic or it can bring peace. Yes, life can be lonesome, but do not linger on the longing and miss out on living.' https://t.co/lMrKbpGHG5— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 19, 2020 'What below creeps and clacks, in the hidden rifts and cracks, searching and digging and wriggling and scratching about, probing and scraping and hunting for a way out. Sleep soundly tonight, if you may, and dream of a world where what moves below never finds the way.' https://t.co/UrfyOk8iKo— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 19, 2020 'Such sorrow and sadness when one's offspring sets out, seeking something beyond their beginnings. Some parents struggle, stopping such sojourns, shackling their scions to their own expectations and ends. But good parents free their children to seek their own fortunes and fates.' https://t.co/wcAgmItzqS— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 19, 2020 'He was not worried about the waters. He should have been shocked and terrified that morning to discover the gentle waves lapping at his lanai, but somehow the unnatural seemed natural, dreamlike and serene. So he settled down to sketch, to draw what he saw swimming in the sea.' https://t.co/yJuXUlM9Wf— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 19, 2020 'By midnight sun and mounting mists they would sail, by wandering wave in wicked waters they would venture, ever onward, ever outward, their quest for new lands and new glories. On such scanty ships to survive each squall, they swept across seas, bringing fire and fear to all.' https://t.co/NsGTEGbdaG— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 19, 2020 'Perhaps today he would find another hulk. It had been a decade since that great haul, one he had discovered. It had been floating listlessly amid the mountains, covered in perpetual clouds. Since there had been some work, on larger salvages. Perhaps his luck would change.' https://t.co/dfxVpWU0LJ— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 18, 2020 'She was not a base beast, some serpent of the soil, nor scavenger of the skies. Truth be told, she was not of this world, not native to the tooth and tear that ruled here, but she had been summoned, and so sought out her seeker, to see what strange sorcerer this world supplied.' https://t.co/xlFeCX7Ioa— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 18, 2020 'He had not long been a god. Not long ago, he had been just another creature of the forests, another small scurrying survivor, seeking shelter in the scrub from those who would kill and destroy. Now he was a guardian of the garden, a warden of the wild, a protector of prey.' https://t.co/aaU7tYYdcm— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 18, 2020 Silent standing stones, staid sentinels of sward and stream, Beacons, barriers, and boundaries between the banal and the beyond. Step softly with caution, dear stranger, near the lines of ley, lest they take notice and interest, and summon forth those that live beyond the grey.' https://t.co/QBxcncPi3E— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 18, 2020 'It dwelt in fire. It ate fire. It was fire. Nothing about the life it lived was natural. Born from flowing flame, from the bowels of a burning world, brought forth by occult incantations and curses upon the gods themselves, the fire fiend seemed fearsome, yet bothered none…' https://t.co/8XmXwsSu1X— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 18, 2020 'Ever so little this sweat drop of succor for ever so small a serpent was she. Elfin and adorable, and of little threat to most, it would be easy to laugh and overlook such a cute and cuddly creature, but though frail and fragile in this form, the firedrake would grow one day…' https://t.co/mvoj0gSzrM— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 17, 2020 'With an eye on the twisting, twirling maelstrom he was summoning, and another on the page that would not stay still, the author smiled, imagining new worlds every instant. Perhaps, he thought, a little more chaos here, a tad less order there. Yes, that would enliven the story!' https://t.co/IhWNffgnWg— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 17, 2020 'The bone queen and her kingdom struck fear with their fashions. Considered perverse and macabre, they stood apart, a seemingly cursed clan, worshipers of death. And yet, they wore the remains of their enemies not in pride, but for protection, to ward off even greater evils…' https://t.co/t78wrTgNdO— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 17, 2020 'Neither hunters nor hunted, these strange stilted scavengers, sifting through the silt and sediment of the swamp. They lived apart, unbothered their neighbors, left alone, more from fear than respect. Theirs was a solitary life, of sifting and searching. For what, nobody knew.' https://t.co/v7N1aF4Ajw— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 17, 2020 'What… what was he…? He was man! No! He was… had been man. Now… something else, something strange, something altogether alien. Every moment, another emotion, another sense he had not known before. Every instant he was something else, something new, something sickening…' https://t.co/lh53aDliix— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 17, 2020 'Mighty and majestic, the mare of the mare, the steed of sand and sea, knew no fear of man nor beast. What they could not fight, they could flee, at home both on land and sea. Though many men tried, and died, to capture and tame the kelpie, it would forever be free.' https://t.co/VaJrtZHBHc— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 16, 2020 'It was so strange, so absurd. She was the goddess of all natural life but her adherents worshiped her, not in old high places nor in sacred groves or streams, but in highly artificed temples, in sanctuaries of stone and silence, far from the wilds she ruled. So… unnatural….' https://t.co/oMfTCMEHFR— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 16, 2020 'It was unnatural in the eyes of the living, yet the stonefount had existed long before life first swam the seas. While new beasts walked and new birds flew the changing skies, the stonefount sprouted flat slabs, freshly formed, one each to mark the passing of another age.' https://t.co/sx4IYY7Ewn— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 16, 2020 'It was here they learned new languages, not of other races, not of long forgotten ancient species that once called their world home. No, these were the languages of the universe itself, what some called magic, what others called science, new tongues to speak forth wonders.' https://t.co/FkEtULoaJu— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 16, 2020 'Archeology was an ill-funded field, as always. It had taken centuries to secure the means for even this small dug, even with the fame of the site. Still, they were here now, ready to unseal the secrets of a mysterious temple of an ancient species, and learn why they vanished…' https://t.co/W1JdRAUjDB— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 16, 2020 "Oh look, a new message!""Yes, it looks important.""Ooh, old parchment! And silk strings and bows! It must be very important indeed!""I wonder who it's from? It must be from far away, considering the bird.""Yes, I haven't seen one of those in ages!""Let's see who it's for." https://t.co/9eDiMGnYwj— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 15, 2020 'They did not hunt him, for he was a great hunter like them. With sharp teeth from afar or long claws in hand, he could hunt with the best of them, often better. But they did not follow him because he was a great hunter. No, they followed him because he was kind, fair, and just.' https://t.co/UOxyd8ZVZz— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 15, 2020 'The beacon of the hidden valley was the last, the final remnant of the greatest dominion ever to hold sway over land or sea. The tower still stood where all others had fallen over ages of war and neglect. It would stand forever so long as man remained outside the hidden valley.' https://t.co/P5RWFl4Q7B— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 15, 2020 'Do you dream when you sleep? Or do you swim among stars in slumber, in stellar seas swirling amid the vast shadows of the endless abyss? When you dream, do you dream of darkness, or do your eyes alight with wonder and fright, in visions of the impossible and a future yet to be?' https://t.co/lm4BE13v9B— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 15, 2020 'Some say crystals are alive, some say they form, flourish, and fade away in the span of aeons, while lesser life exists only an instant in in their time. So slow, so sedate do they spring forth that few notice when a crystal matures, even when they ignite with malice…' https://t.co/CA8hqV7NSO— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 15, 2020 Share with: Short Stories Art Micro Storiesmicrofictionshort story Previous post The Soma Posts Next post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 22-30, 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. 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