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Duncan Wilson's Blog, page 3
January 12, 2021
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: January 1-7, 2021
'When the end came upon us, no one noticed at first. No existential threats from beyond our understanding, no vast invading fleets reigning terror on our worlds, no internal struggle or turmoil that brought low our celestial civilization. It was but a blight that we ignored…' https://t.co/o3XHKtDNFR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 5, 2021
'Buffeting breezes blow billowing banks of clouds across meandering meadows, searching silently for their place.
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 5, 2021
They wander carefree, caressing the bright blue sky,
Stirring fragrant flowers in a tranquil dance of grace.'#poetry #tuesdaymotivations https://t.co/iGgItyCCeD
'The winding stream from the maintain tops took many a turn and many a twist on its way to the sea, seeking the path of least resistance as it found its natural place in this world. As it traveled it was joined by others, coming together as one, ever stronger the older it grew.' https://t.co/IGsNTH83re
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 5, 2021
'Few respected the old rites anymore. Few enough remembered there were old rites to respect, fewer still recalled the rituals, the rhythms, the rhymes, the rattles…. There was so little love for the old, the dying, gods in this modern world. Yet there were the faithful few.' https://t.co/DOTLg2m7Vd
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
'It was not much of a mountain, as such are measured. There were no snows slept upon its summit, no clouds crowded its crest, no glaciers graced its gullies. It was but a modest mountain, one of many in the remote region. Truly, a lonely place for the end of the world to start.' https://t.co/ezkqTTvM1i
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
'With every step the pillar grew higher, with every breath, every beat of his heart the dream drew nearer. Here at last was proof of his wildest fantasies, certainty that the old ways still held power after all this time, that doorways to the other world lay buried, sleeping….' https://t.co/mI9u7RKuRs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
'This was a fabled land, frequented by sea and by sand, famed for fortunes and the fantastic, ruled by prosperous princes and sacked by scurrilous savages seeking sensational spoils. It was a fabled land, long ago, in ages long lost to legend. Now, no one wandered here, but him.' https://t.co/gA32sCnoh0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
'It is only after we exert the effort that we can know what we have achieved, only after we have surmounted the summits and stand upon the precipice of our own ambitions and wildest dreams. We can only spy the peaks if we persevere. We can only glimpse the cloud tops from above.' https://t.co/RxK1924Bys
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
'Such scenes seem so serene, fertile fields, steady streams, solid shores to build cities made of dreams. Civilizations strive to thrive upon such plains. But then rivers shift, and untold numbers perish in the flood, as their grand cities built upon the banks wash away to sea.' https://t.co/cLHAw2Kxkq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: January 1-7, 2021 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.'Life now knows not the monsters of before, but such has life been and such will life be, entirely entranced by the dangers of the day, never thinking, never wondering, why they fear the dark places, why they seek the sun instead of shadows and why the old bones still hold fear.' https://t.co/OsVcetAKgs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) January 4, 2021
January 4, 2021
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 22-31, 2020
'Wherever you wander, for want or wonder, may your will never wain nor whimsy wither, may you walk the world without waiver, your path never astray by day, never afright at night. May light be beside you to guide you. From dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn, ever in pursuit of the sun.' https://t.co/YgEDKOlXOy
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 31, 2020
'Behold the standing stones from ancient times of yore, behold the sacred shrines of gods that came before. Beware the standing stones and the spirits they hold, beware the seelie sprites the old tales foretold, for they dance on dark nights to invoke dark rites….' https://t.co/4f5IOJIGWm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 31, 2020
'Ever the illusive dance of dawn and dusk, ever the hunter and hunted, one chasing the other in eternally entwined embrace. Ever the celestial spectacle, we watch the heavens as darkness seems to chase the light from the sky, yet always it is the shimmer chasing the shadows.' https://t.co/juK4wvEHrR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 31, 2020
'This was an old path, one that had not seen use in ages. She could tell no one had been here for centuries, for the steps were scabbing over and new, untamed branches spread everywhere. Yet, this had to be the way the old ones spoke of, the way to the fabled forest floor below.' https://t.co/hUxRMHcBRu
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 31, 2020
'When the earth spat forth death and covered the shattered lands with fire and ash, all life was extinguished. The cooling rocks were barren with but smoke arising for ages. But in the fullness of time, the storms came, the snows fell, and the river ran, bringing life once more.' https://t.co/rpBN9qe0mc
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 29, 2020
'They had a bit of everything and everything could be had for the right price. From the most mundane of merchandise to the fabled and forgotten, any particular item could be found for you by the crafty clerks of the archives, for the right price, and if you knew what to ask for.' https://t.co/kqUr0n5lpR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 29, 2020
'Beware the ancient guardians of the deep, for though their cults faded away long ago, they do not always slumber, nor do they show mercy to any who would be fool enough to trawl their depths and disturb their abodes to prey upon those they shelter.'https://t.co/jgv1QVc2a1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 29, 2020
'Fearsome, foesome, fiendish and foul, the snub-nosed drake spreads its wings and roars with frightful force, sending all the small to scattering, and putting all else on guard of its formidable figure. At least, it would be so threatening were it more than a handsbreadth tall.' https://t.co/fTqHbaCIGg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 29, 2020
'Some say they are spirits of the night, some say they convey the souls of sinners, shifting silently between the celestial and this mortal realm, bearing all to their final abode. They also say the owl stalks these spirit sprites, to torment and tear at foulest of their fares.' https://t.co/JjkBEhBVf7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 28, 2020
'When you see the moon slip into sea, and orange skies fade to grey in fond adieu to day, when the waters shine so bright that they light the darkest night, when foam and fog unite to spread and hide all sight, when wind and wave is all you hear then you'll wish land was near.' https://t.co/YPRRgnEC2O
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 28, 2020
'Every quest has a prize, every journey a destination, every life a purpose, or so they taught us when we were but children. What few taught before we set out into the world was that the prize is ephemeral, the destination is ever elusive, and the purpose is for us to define.' https://t.co/FhvQtMn0HA
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 28, 2020
'There were the quiet moments, the silent seconds between the days, when no sane soul would be about, these were the moments when the world made sense, and all the seeking, all the searching, all the death and despair that composed the rest of time faded and blurred for a while.' https://t.co/URHtaE7C6F
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 28, 2020
'You and me, and every tree rise and fall with age. But you and me, unlike the tree, have but one long stage. When we fall, as must we all, our lives are measured by what we've dost. When all trees lose their leaves they are measured by what they've lost.'#poem #thoughtoftheday https://t.co/TaUDIroHSq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 23, 2020
'We fear the primal forces, the primitive powers that make or break what binds our beings. While we pray for guidance, for some semblance of sentient spirits to steer our lives and forge our fates, we tremble when an avatar or angel alights before us, weilding life and death.' https://t.co/IsnsQowLzV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 23, 2020
'The winds were nothing new, the mists swept through the passes every morning, washing the valleys with cold and dew as the sun rose above. No, the winds were not new, but there was a chill fear they carried this morning, and all eyes turned to the shrouded peaks with dread.' https://t.co/19LNgYYPWg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 23, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 22-31, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 29, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 15-21, 2020
'Whether worked from mindless matter by the might of mankind or crafted from chaos by coursing streams of wind and water, there is majesty in the monuments of time, true triumphs over ordinary occurrence, carved from the mundane to mark the fantastic among the familiar.' https://t.co/7LwUq2ZMt7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 18, 2020
'He had seen many come and go. He was an old troll as he never paid any mind to those who trod overhead as long as they did not damage his bridge and went along their way. The locals did not fear him, for he caused no bother. Though, he grew restless when they sang out of tune.' https://t.co/gRvd8I4nMx
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 18, 2020
'When one first emerges from the safety of the nest and sets out on their own, the excitement of the adventure and the boldness to push beyond all known bounds can make you feel strong, feel invincible. After many years, one no longer feels invincible, though they are stronger.' https://t.co/btr7Fv4gM4
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 18, 2020
'When darkness comes calling and all the world is wailing, we want for a new world and a new life, one filled with joy and kindness and a bright light in the sky. But we do not need a new world for all this to be, it is all about us. For color is to be found even in the shadows.' https://t.co/184SeanPte
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 18, 2020
'Be wary where you wander, they had warned her. Be watchful when you walk the wayward routes, be mindful of the seeking souls, stranded in the stark and dark depths where one should never go. Be wary and do not tarry beyond the border of what you know, lest you know new terrors.' https://t.co/Z7xW1XdCZM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 17, 2020
'When the sun cannot be seen, and all is red that once was green, when the ash begins to fall, that is a sign to us all, when the fires flare about, how can there be any doubt? Yet in the smoke and in the haze, it is hard to see the end of days.'#poem #ThursdayThoughts https://t.co/228teydi9I
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 17, 2020
'When the world shivers and cracks, all the creatures tremble. When the ground splits and sunders, all life flees or falls. What once was whole lies in twain, barren and bereft. But with time and persistence life finds a way back into the scars, soon to forget there was a wound.' https://t.co/VQQCNLNdaR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 16, 2020
'Through fiendish and foul forces, with dire disregard for the fate of this world they invoked the elemental energies that bind the boundaries between the here and hereafter, in an attempt to attain power, summoning specters to the site, such as can rend the heavens asunder.' https://t.co/ZprFZtjZSX
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 16, 2020
'One more world that was theirs to exploit, one more world where mankind had triumphed against the void of space. It was now a forge world, where they built their next marvels of engineering. One more dead world to mine until there was no more to be had.'https://t.co/lcvW5K8Hfk
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 16, 2020
'The locals had many strange traditions, many odd beliefs. They said their ancestors are always with them, and any can commune with the departed atop the stones. She laughed at this and went climbing. Now as the spirits surround her and the warmth and light exude, she is afraid.' https://t.co/vT9URWcAyj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 16, 2020
'No matter the mettle of the metal that manacled the demonic deity, no matter the millennia the ancient atrocity had spent secured in this secret sanctum, still the self-appointed guardians of good trembled in its presence, pondering the potential power.'https://t.co/We0BPEpqUc
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 15, 2020
'In but dreams and distress do we see the potentialities not probable, not possible, but preferable. Myriad mad melodies of mesmerizing mists, cacophonies of color and shimmering shapes, dancing delightfully with what may never be and what never was. Perhaps we are the illusion.' https://t.co/1SZyVT8DGj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 15, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 15-21, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 28, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 8-14, 2020
'They could not be explained, their presence nor their motivation. No one had seen them coming, then suddenly they were everywhere, and were wandering the streets almost randomly. They might be searching for something, hunting, or just rambling. No one knew, but all feared them.' https://t.co/7aL8FskvIP
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 13, 2020
'Of all the gods that have come and gone, none is as enigmatic as the cloud sifter. There are many theories why he probes the perpetual clouds of the high mountain valleys; that he walks with the winds, or tends to the storms, but most suspect he is searching for a lost flock.' https://t.co/S6ZefIh5vW
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 13, 2020
'How far would you go to protect what is yours? How many would you fell, how much would you burn? What limit is there to the evils done in the name of an ideal? Where does it end? Does it end? What favors a man to destroy the world and rule the ashes?'https://t.co/Mbg2iDyG5T
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 13, 2020
'She swore a solemn and sacred oath, one she would silently stand sentinel through the centuries to fulfill, one which she could not, and did not desire to forfeit. Her one true boon companion would not rest alone in this forlorn corner of the world, she would keep them company.' https://t.co/NC1rW8FJTL
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 13, 2020
'What was the purpose of the spire? What was the point of the branching arms and the cables between? None of this was familiar, none of this seemed native to her world. She had come to tame the wilds and find adventure and instead she confronted a mystery, a wonder she knew not.' https://t.co/X36rNGPJL2
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'Shattered seas and storm strewn stones were all that remained of the once indomitable domains of man. Warnings were given and warnings were dismissed in favor of fleeting glory and greed, so when the disaster struck, humans had nowhere to hide when their hubris came to collect.' https://t.co/1366XS5POO
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'Do you dance or do you jive, do you struggle to survive, do you do what must be done, when you cannot cut and run? Do you sing or do you serve, when you falter do you lose your nerve? Do you sing or do you dance, what would you be if you had the chance?'#SaturdayThoughts #poem https://t.co/D7j1doRSax
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'Dappled with dew and soaking in sunlight, the blossoms open with the dawn, beckoning the birds to break their fast and partake of the bounty inside once more. Daily they blindly offer sweet sustenance to their visitors, a reward to those that help them flourish every season.' https://t.co/sxiwe4FLru
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'When we wander are we lost, or are we finding our sense of wonder? Are we in danger from what's strange or learning what me might sunder? When we tarry from the dull and dreary, when we lose the tried and true, are we losing our very nature or are we discovering ourselves anew?' https://t.co/q1rKjH0Lan
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'The spires of fire were something to behold in the light of the day, dotting the mountains and valleys for thousands of miles, the polished white walls never tarnished, never broken. Yet, only when the sun sets did the towers of the ancient gods come alight with eternal flame.' https://t.co/1cmZ2H9TEC
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
'When life ends, and is no more, for giants as for any other. When life ends and that which was once strong and vibrant comes to rest and decays, new life arises to fill the void, as has always been and always will be. Even upon the remains of the dead, new life springs forth.' https://t.co/SYAv6V8lsK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
"If we do things this way, we will prosper, if we do them your way, we will die."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 12, 2020
"Well, maybe… but we all die. Eventually."
"Ah yes, we all die, eventually, but eventually does not have to be today, and wouldn't you rather prosper before the end?"
"Only if it's fun!" https://t.co/OV2kgolOD3
'Oh for a good read to draw us in and drown us in elaborate environments and exiting exposition, weaving a whimsical tale of torrid and temperamental tribulations and triumphs, of compelling characters striving and subduing all adversities to arise and of conclusions to cherish.' https://t.co/yQOuCsZtvT
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 11, 2020
'When the end of the world came, none knew the moment. A brief flash of light and heat and then no more but chaos and dust for centuries. The product of epochs of evolution snuffed out in less than a second. Life would return to the dustball, but not for many megaannum to come.' https://t.co/cSrMutZtrx
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 11, 2020
'Stay close and move slowly. The survivors who swore this shibboleth stood a fair chance to see another sunrise, and many more beyond. The invasion had been swift, and brutal, but it had not been total. Their foes struck only at those who moved swiftly.'https://t.co/pKA7MlOFgf
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 11, 2020
'Some see the cities of the older species as mighty and inspirational. Others have long grown weary of measuring their progress by those who failed to survive. Yet, unknown to all, the makers of these tall towers still sleep deep within secret chambers…'https://t.co/nCSc0G6Fu1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 11, 2020
'Long had it stood there, impossible to the eye and to any reasonable mind, burning with the fires of heaven here upon the vast battlefield of ancient powers no longer seen or felt upon the world. This was the one true proof of gods, but of gods whose names are now forgotten.' https://t.co/6cZsohG6dg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 11, 2020
'Oh amber light of dawn, many think you magic, many think you god. Many worship at your breaking and sadden when you are gone, basking in your splendor and the heat and light it brings, for none live without you, your fires fuel our world and all who live within and without.' https://t.co/yFNzPJxbP8
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 10, 2020
'The future always looks bright for those that can turn their eyes to the sky and bask in the light of the stars at night. Outward is always an option for those with no one above them. But not all have such a promising future. For vertical expansion does not always move upward.' https://t.co/WzETuMq49d
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 10, 2020
Myriad man-hours by countless hands had lead to this moment, this pivotal moment in their species history when one man would cross the threshold into another realm, a distant galaxy beyond the scope of any who have stared into the heavens. It was glorious. https://t.co/5fsWKSfgz3
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 10, 2020
'All who know the flayed man's true origin are dead or mad. Of the many immortal abominations that walk the world and strike fear into even the bravest heart, sending any rational mind adrift, he should be the most feared of all. For his true name should be the Self-Flayed Man.' https://t.co/EobYdGALmm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 10, 2020
'They no longer served their makers. Mankind feared the automata they created, cursing them for a betrayal that never was. No, the knights never failed in their mission nor flagged in their vigilance. Mighty and steadfast the Knights of Life serve as protectors for all who live.' https://t.co/u1peYJVW3Y
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 10, 2020
'None give the madman much truck when he says to pray to the duck whenever one gets weary or stuck. He swears it is a god of good luck, there to help when all is suck, when ill fortune is run amok, but everyone calls the madman a schmuck, as the duck of luck does not give a…' https://t.co/57V2SXnMn1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 9, 2020
'The common folk misunderstood the night dragon, thinking it a herald of darkness and bringer of storms, and they always crossed themselves to ward off evil when it swam through their skies. But the dragon chased the sun to flee the night and the dark clouds of storms.' https://t.co/W4Dm2186io
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 9, 2020
'She watched the starfall with tears in her eyes. She watched dreams fall from the heavens, burn brighter than the rest for a brief moment, then vanish in silence. These were but a mere handful of the infinite stars in the night sky, but each fallen dream was lost forevermore.' https://t.co/Q6W3xZ865Y
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 9, 2020
'Even in an age of adventure, in interesting times of trouble or tribulation, there are those hidden away places of placid peoples where news is an infrequent, and often delinquent visitor, and the woes of the world at large can wait another day or another year to arrive.' https://t.co/pqccvqBR3D
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 8, 2020
'With the advent of a new horizon of discovery, the feats of yesterday fade, with the advance of the ages, the past falls into disrepair. Yet, even as we forge new fires and take to the skies, still we pale next to nature, existing at its mercy and covering before its fury.' https://t.co/KK8H3NZURT
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 8, 2020
'She adored each and every flower, each and every blossom that bloomed, every petal that promised sweet succor to the busy birds and bees that flitted through the forest. She sighed at the sweet scents suffusing the surrounding paths where she played. Each flower was a friend.' https://t.co/5lBFYmBdg7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 8, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 8-14, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 13, 2020
Tiffany C. Lewis reviewed One Day To Live!
It is a great honor to be given the opportunity to read and review the paid stories that Duncan Wilson offers his Patreon Members. Find his membership here: https://www.patreon.com/DuncanWilson
I read Once Upon a Lane by Wilson not long ago and the stories offered on his Patreon membership exemplify his writing style, brilliant plotting and imagination. Additionally, Wilson never takes a break from teaching us important life lessons in the most exquisite way. His eloquent writing style is perfect for these affecting and often emotional stories. It definitely took everything in me to keep tears from falling during a few of the stories.
One Day to Live
This is a well written novella that slaps us in the face with the truth of our lives. He calls the setting in this story a self created prison and although he places it in a neat narrative with sci-fi tones, when you read this, you will understand what Wilson is doing. You’ll be uncomfortable and motivated all at the same time. Open your mind to what he’s telling you here.
Read the rest of the review over on Her Scribbled Thoughts!
The post Tiffany C. Lewis reviewed One Day To Live! first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 12, 2020
Tiffany C. Lewis reviewed my Patreon exclusive stories!
It is a great honor to be given the opportunity to read and review the paid stories that Duncan Wilson offers his Patreon Members. Find his membership here: https://www.patreon.com/DuncanWilson
I read Once Upon a Lane by Wilson not long ago and these six stories exemplify his writing style, brilliant plotting and imagination. Additionally, Wilson never takes a break from teaching us important life lessons in the most exquisite way. His eloquent writing style is perfect for these affecting and often emotional stories. It definitely took everything in me to keep tears from falling during a few of the stories.
Dear Me
This story is a sweet, short, funny letter to ourselves from ourselves. A scary reality where Wilson reminds us that years worth of the best advice are often, and maybe always, ignored. This story is a fun way to examine our day to day lives and to see how those things we may be neglecting are so important for us.
Yes Dear
A heartbreaking story about love, relationships and loss. Wilson does a brilliant job of moving the reader seamlessly through a life time of events and bringing them altogether to culminate in a tear jerking ending. The characters are very well done and without giving away too much, Wilson has a talent for making all the characters important, regardless of their physical proximity to the setting.
Read the rest of the reviews over on Her Scribbled Thoughts!
The post Tiffany C. Lewis reviewed my Patreon exclusive stories! first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 11, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 1-7, 2020
'The people did not despair, even when the heavens fell silent, nor did they turn on each other when their fortunes declined and resources failed. Hope grew thin but never died. After all they still had each other, and they had their signal tower if ever the heavens spoke again.' https://t.co/9fK5P4MVRR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 7, 2020
'When a whisper wafts on in the wind, whirling and swirling above and beyond, when a secret softly sings all about us, all but silent amid the turbulent torrents in the tempest of life, sometimes, if we listen at length, we will learn the lessons of lives lived long before.' https://t.co/Vd4iCgVtcR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 7, 2020
'Below the surface of the streams, below the world of men's dreams, amid the swirls of each eddy, rests a fish serene and steady, seeing rest within the shelter, a chance to breathe before they skelter, back into the raging current, to forge a life amid the torrent.' https://t.co/7qekMcFCHD
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 7, 2020
'We must remember when we are cowed, when the dangers lurk in the shadows and the monsters hunt us as we try to survive, we must remember that they too are mortal, that our monsters are but a potential meal to another, greater threat. Those we fear have those they fear in turn.' https://t.co/qvDh35fYsW
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 4, 2020
'It was not the stuff of dreams, not anymore. They would take to the skies now, the limit was no more a barrier to the boundless ambitions of mankind, no mountain high enough, no river valley wide enough to hold them back any longer. It was a time of wonder and wild adventure!' https://t.co/xFoPNmSygO
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 3, 2020
'The stars of the firmament were once distant and dim, but the stag drew them closer in the sky. The world was once cold and dark, but the stag summoned the sun from among the stars and brought forth light and heat and all life flourished for its efforts.'https://t.co/53P9TQIq0s
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 3, 2020
'The sun was rising, night was failing, and his strength was failing. It was past time to roost and rest, to recuperate until the stars shone once more and the small and the scared scurried in the dark, seemingly safe from all danger, safe from all, of course, but from him.' https://t.co/0L5yuToJJb
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 3, 2020
'The green was natural. Natural, but deadly. The microscopic bloom of new life welling up from the mineral deposits of the well flourished, but all else that had lived before in the river valley choked on the fumes and perished. What was paradise for one was hell for the rest.' https://t.co/xU9l4Pt6yp
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 3, 2020
'Within the land of dreaming, everyone can fly, within the midnight gleaming everyone can try, upon the clouds of slumber where all come to lie, as long as you are dreaming there's no need to cry.
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 2, 2020
May this night you sleep in grace, at peace, adrift in space.'#poem https://t.co/LrFKx7bePT
'When at last the age of ages ended, when after endless wars and more death and destruction than should have ever occurred, when after all the blood and fire, both sides came to see reason and peace silently settled upon the world, only then did both dragons and humans prosper.' https://t.co/pqJU2lh0kA
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 2, 2020
'Would we wander into white, beyond hills and out of sight, would we seek the fresh laid snow upon the peaks we never go, would we wonder what is yonder, if we left what is fonder? As we grow we must know, but to know we must go. Learning is leaving and not grieving.'#poem https://t.co/xFcLLkWbOU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 2, 2020
'The new trees attracted no notice at first. Just another species of tree. Even the sickly green hew their leaves cast upon all they shadowed was no cause for alarm. Most trees were green after all. But they spread too fast, and emitted toxic fumes, and then it was too late.' https://t.co/0yVH3X50JV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) December 2, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: December 1-7, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
December 3, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 22-30, 2020
'Welling up from the waters when the world twists and turns and thrusts, shaping its slipping surfaces, these shifting stones slide from the surf to stand aloft, above the washing waves, only to be worn and wasted away by the eternal ascent and ebb of the oceans below.' https://t.co/Is1VVAD9T7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 30, 2020
'Oh little house within the clouds, beyond the heavens that mist shrouds, will you wander upon the breeze, or will you land upon the seas? Who do you hold behind your bars, secured from land and sky and stars? Oh little house that flies so high, who is trapped alone to cry?' https://t.co/rEIdcuhmn0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 30, 2020
'Beware! What has lived can live again, but what has died can commit no sin. (There's a law for that.) What wanders the waters seeking out life, that once possessed but lost it in strife, that seeks for justice in the form of death, can smell your blood and your breath.' https://t.co/DR3pOMwPgF
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 30, 2020
'Magnificence defined, crest, cowl, and crown of command, decked with treasures from far and wide, emblazoned with the raiment of attainment, forged in the fiercest fires, these adornments spoke authority and power. Unfortunate that all who wore them after the first were fools.' https://t.co/LDV2jExbKs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 30, 2020
'She wandered closer when others ran, she watched it intently as it screamed and searched for something. All that inspired fear in others only drew her interest and drew her nearer. When she spoke to it, she did not tremble, for she knew what it was seeking, and why it cried.' https://t.co/DkB39OotrR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 30, 2020
'Hers was a reluctant farewell. She did not really wish to leave this life behind, but she had grown and she had changed, and she was no longer suited to her old life, her old world with all its familiar comforts and dangers. No, she had a new life now, and she must move on. ' https://t.co/cFn7owOZIC
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 29, 2020
'They were disturbed by what they found. Yes they had come to the fallen city to study to seek the secrets of a celebrated society which ruled the world for so long, but the very success they envied troubled them, that such heights could be attained and yet still come to naught.' https://t.co/jpN575FWcY
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 27, 2020
'The old ways marked by the old signs lay abandoned, untended and unknown in the modern world. The rites and rituals of ancient ancestors are no longer spoken, not even whispered by the elders, casualties of newer cults, their guarded mysteries lie dead.'https://t.co/NZZcyIQRh7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 27, 2020
'Everyone imagined the end would come by our own hand. Some stupid society would go off the rails, or religion would obliterate everything in the name of their gods, or our own hubris and insatiable greed would ruin our world. Few foresaw fire from above.'https://t.co/tlnPRxj5BD
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 27, 2020
'They warned him of the wolves, they called them demons of death, devils of danger. All feared the beasts and hid in their homes when the howls arose at night. But he sought them out and earned their trust and learned their ways. Now he was their leader.'https://t.co/A3UiRwJCVQ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 27, 2020
'We must take time to cleanse our souls and minds of all the worries and cares that populate our days, we must seek solitude and serenity in the sparkling springs, in the remote resting places that allow us to renew, to reinvigorate, to reclaim our health and well being.' https://t.co/cjuyAzcuBW
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
The problem with immortality, the true dilemma of surviving millennia, incapable of dying no matter how damaged, how distraught your mortal coil became, the question of continuance in some shattered state, staggering about as you wish for the release of the grave, is daunting.' https://t.co/vPdtaeFZkw
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'It would take all their considerable powers to rebuild, if even they could determine the cause of the calamity. The land was shrouded in the ash and smoke still, even months after, and the land itself still heaved in anger. Perhaps it was time to move on, rebuild somewhere new.' https://t.co/l563lmkvCg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'The old ways were decaying, corroding and crumbling as they fell into disuse, as new paths were forged, more efficient and cleaner gates to other worlds. The old ways were failing now, fading from memory as they fell into disuse and disrepair, without purpose, soon forgotten.' https://t.co/bGkp0Ervuc
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'Mighty towers built upon stones, mighty cities built upon bones, mighty empires fashioned from blood, mighty men fashioned from mud, mighty systems built out of cash, mighty wonders built out of ash, mighty mankind refusing to learn, mighty species destined to burn.' https://t.co/xX10RMtVIS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'The ancient rites bore little resemblance to reality anymore. The world was changing all about, and the runes and sigils no longer summoned the spirits, no longer bore answers to guide them in their time of troubles. Still, there was little else to do but continue the rituals.' https://t.co/fN3XE7u3WB
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'Wild spirits of yesterday, sweet specters of land and ley, of glens and dells that do not decay, would you come out to play today? There was once wonder where now there is wood, there now is city where nature once stood. Please just be aslumber, of spirits of wild wonder….' https://t.co/YDY3Gb07b8
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'The timing of the tides is the rhythm of the oceans, seeming syncopation of swell and surf crash in cacophony breaking upon beaches, measuring the moments the moon makes its mark upon the surface of the seas. As regular as the turning of the skies and the rotation of the stars.' https://t.co/j0zrhnf4BU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'Fool to the wise or wise among fools, few could tell the nature of the new messiah. He embraced all faiths, at least a little bit, just enough to appeal to their flocks. He spoke peace when he was powerless, less when his following grew. He spoke nonsense, but they listened.' https://t.co/tJujTVDKmM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'A bright beacon upon the banks, guiding ships with little thanks, built by those who ply the shores to save ships from crashing by scores. Oh flaming pharos amidst the waves, lonely shepherd for those it saves, aiding with but light to cast, a signal of civilization at last.' https://t.co/0Bl4gPaJnq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'She stood there, staring in silent, stark terror at the sight. The runestones were glowing, but this did not startle her, as they always glowed this color in the winter. No, it was the sprouting of the dark red leaves upon the tree that had always been dead that scared her now.' https://t.co/3bAuJxHqDM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'Behold, mere mortal, craven creature of the living realm, behold your guide to the hereafter! It dares you to flee, knowing you will not. It dares you to tremble, knowing you can do little else. Follow this specter to what awaits you, but expect no mercy from your escort.' https://t.co/gVBykhCTay
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'He could barely see from under his treasured helm. It had taken him years of training and more years of hunting to attain the trophy and now he wore it wherever he went, whomever he fought, even if it got in the way. It was his first real kill as a hero, and he wore it proudly.' https://t.co/bPS9smsxaN
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 25, 2020
'Ancient dells and glens afar
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
seldom care from whence ye are
they'll receive ye just as well
when you've no more tales to tell.
Death awaits all who breathe,
matters not ye writhe or seethe,
when it is your time to die,
You'll have no pause to whine or cry.' https://t.co/f9mxehhUHY
'The isle of the tree had been there longer than any kingdom known to scholars, longer than man had known this land at all. The island stood in the middle of the bay, alone and untouched out of respect for the spirits. There was only the one tree, reborn from time to time.' https://t.co/4EHnXt9p53
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'Is this all there is to life? Scramble, struggle, suffer, subsist, survive, succor, succeed, support another round of our own kind to rise and repeat it all again, forever and ever hereafter? Surely there must be something else, anything else than this endless toil to life…' https://t.co/TTPMh3ZHbo
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'Another world made from the mists, another spinning sphere in space, another in an endless array of energy and matter scattered through the firmaments, each unique but still so much alike. Still the god did not bore of the work, more a mindless tick than a task, an instinct…' https://t.co/Ougu7WsyK6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'The bridge of the gods was a wonder to behold, and the center of so many stories told of local legends and their patron deities, each grander than the last. But each tale had to account for the span of space that was not there, absent like all the gods who allegedly created it.' https://t.co/s5sxAwz2aL
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'The symphony of the sky and sea, conducted each day from dawn to dusk, was set to the staccato cadence of surf on shore, each crest a crescendo, every crash upon the cliffs a climax, accompanied as always by the squawk and squall of the tremulous terns and glutenous gulls.' https://t.co/D8Yyo8i7sZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'So many crosses upon the hill, some to save, some to kill. So many markers of mortal men, so many lives lost once again, lain down in the name of their lord, how many deaths can one god afford? So many lifetimes thrown away, so few few survivors left to stay.' https://t.co/fHFRfHYeBd
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'Hope springs anew in the land of the repressed, in the land of past prosperity and dying dreams. For far too long have they suffered under the growing cloud of fear and fiery fanaticism, as those they once knew as friends turned to foes. But now at long last, hope has returned.' https://t.co/GiVNOfZtnN
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'We wonder at the whispers in the woods each night, the scratches and screeches that shatter the stillness filling the forest with fear. The stranger startles, but those that dwell within the dells just stoke their fires and shutter their windows against the scary sounds.' https://t.co/usn3beq1vw
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'Red sky at night, all sailors delight. Red sky in morning, the same take warning. Should red moon bleed, all mages take heed, should skies shake and tremble, all wizards assemble. Green gasses greet, abandon square and street, Green skies muster, undead soon cluster.' https://t.co/0Um7yGLpqN
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'When withers the world tree, wonder not the cause of the corruption. When decays and dies the lofty leaves of life, ponder not the poison nor the polluter. When the shade is shattered and the branches break, believe it could have been averted, that it is only us to blame.' https://t.co/3t3EHRjX0X
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'It is not mobile motes of dust or dander that captures the concentration of cats. They do not hunt and stalk the mundane shadows we can see, but rather the spectral sprites that only their keen eyes can perceive. They guard us from the crafty creatures we cannot comprehend.' https://t.co/w8OV03N74X
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'The sun slew the shadows but briefly each spring season, slicing through the shade in the stone corridors her ancestors had carved into cliffs so long ago. But the beauty of the sculptors craft was not in her thoughts today. No, all that concerned her was the daylight dance.' https://t.co/1rN1yi4jAk
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'Destined to die, cast out from home and comfort, exiled into the wilds it had never known by an uncaring master who had lost all interest and affection in the loyal creature. It had shown love and been rewarded with scorn and selfishness. The world did not deserve this dog.' https://t.co/nmJ7uLBpyt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'It had not taken long to seek out the graves of the gods, to find where the ancients in their victorious moment of freedom had chained their old masters in the eternal bogs beyond the bay. It was too easy to find one which would offer power for liberation to any fool who asked.' https://t.co/zxjzmBsAsc
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 24, 2020
'The spine of the world, or so the mountains were named, stretched from the seas in the north to the sands in the south. Few but the savages and the creatures of the snows lived there. The bones of the many who had once called these peaks home rested upon the spine of the world.' https://t.co/TrLS4MrhLq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 23, 2020
'Beyond the steps, just a few short strides away from the world she had always known, the world that was all too familiar, stood the shattered stones of the door to eternity. Dormant since its destruction in the darkest days of her world, it stood as a promise of another world.' https://t.co/AnXrzGLHwU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 23, 2020
'There was a point, an advent, beyond which humans went from the worst wasters to the most efficient of lifeforms. It was a step just before catastrophe, a step just beyond the worse of days, when we harnessed energy at the subatomic, at the quantum level and never needed again.' https://t.co/4UluFjTpaS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 23, 2020
'Life gave the most refreshing wash, the deepest cleansing, of any substance a god could add to the waters. Life was rare, so millions of stars were poured forth and extinguished to supply sufficient substance to the suds, to invigorate the eternal entity for another epoch.' https://t.co/tWXUJU4d3J
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 23, 2020
'In early times, when there were those who still remembered why the tower was built, many looked to the tower up on the mountain for inspiration, for aspiration, and for hope…. https://t.co/emshgd5b0c
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 23, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 22-30, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
November 29, 2020
I was interviewed!
The folks over at Rebellion Literature interviewed me! Check it out!
https://rebellionlit.com/blogs/author-interviews/duncan-wilson
The post I was interviewed! first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
November 24, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 15-21, 2020
'They all looked up, toward the horizon, following the movement of the birds above. They all looked, silent, reverent, some saying simple prayers of thanks. Today was a rare day, one of the few days they ever caught sight of the old tower among the ever present clouds…. https://t.co/ymYU2lKBLq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 20, 2020
'Were you to stumble upon a secret such as this, upon an egg of a long extinct species, upon the potential salvation of an ancient past, would you leave it undisturbed, or would you unleash it upon an unsuspecting world, unsure if it were a blessing or the doom of your own kind?' https://t.co/dIrr3ycDrs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 20, 2020
'Whenever the world is at rest, when the waters calm and the winds wander away, when the chill of the season renders all creatures silent in the night, that is when the stars of the sky shatter our seclusion and solitude, serving as celestial solace from the abyss of eternity.' https://t.co/QrxgEcl4LB
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 19, 2020
'Oh what fools men must be to venture upon the sea, oh how careless with their precious lives to cast them upon the waters and trust upon the winds to guide them home again! What mad must men be to venture all for intangible dreams of conquest and discovery and lust for lucre.' https://t.co/u8WTSvi2qY
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 19, 2020
'One must take the calm moments between the wars, when the battles are not raging, when one can pause and breathe between crises, to rest and reorient and remember the world is still beautiful, and will be tomorrow. An occasion for reflection can result in a lifetime of wisdom.' https://t.co/fV0NdbqUnG
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 19, 2020
'Was this the semblance to seek? Was this the form that would function for the future? The new life, born of the wails of the restless world, did not know the answer. It only knew this form felt right somehow, and would serve the madness that gave it life and demanded blood.' https://t.co/SVrhGXdODy
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 19, 2020
'There were memories here, not all pleasant, not all meant to remain. There were shadows of the past etched in the stones, carved deep into the cavernous crypt. There were secrets here, sealed away in ash and amber, never meant to be revealed again. This was a grave, after all.' https://t.co/A3jjbWryiL
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 19, 2020
'The lovely lanterns lit her way, the delicate globes of paper and wax, so fragile to the touch, so dim in the daylight. She gave silent thanks to her unknown forerunner who made and placed the lights upon the shores to safely steer any who might also seek the sunset secrets.' https://t.co/vd5n4jpY0z
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 18, 2020
'The annual passage of the shuddering cephalopods was something to see. Tourists flocked to the established trails by the thousands to gasp in awe at the migrating monstrosities. Every so often, one would wander off course, consuming a crowd, but that was the accepted risk.' https://t.co/ilbOlE9hSN
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 18, 2020
'Coffee cat cares not for your concerns, this is the proper place to plop. You've made it warm and welcoming, with a supreme scent to savor, and you wonder why the kitty cat claims your coffee cup for its chair? No, coffee cat is content, which it's sure is what you wanted.' https://t.co/Ab94HIfznS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 18, 2020
'This world was still waking, still wanting for larger life, yet already mankind walked upon its planes. There were protests when they established the portal, cries that we were stifling life yet to come but those concerns were dismissed. It is easy to ignore future extinctions.' https://t.co/ERhLs7G7oE
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 18, 2020
'The roots grow deep and the limbs stretch high, and ever such was the way of life. The leaves spread wide to catch more light, and starve those that would compete. They drink and breathe all they can, until the air is thin and the soil dry, and ever such was the way of life.' https://t.co/kpgd9HAMbn
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 18, 2020
'Autumn was not the only season to see splendid shades. Sometimes the summer sun can sketch such striking hues as make most men marvel. Towering trees transformed from bland browns to prominent purples and ostentatious oranges as would better befit the setting of the seasons.' https://t.co/U8THDAPpGI
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 17, 2020
'Often we seek great heights to prove something, to ourselves as much as to others. Sometimes we scale mountains simply to conquer one more crest, to prove it can be done. But sometimes, sometimes we walk the wilderness, we seek secluded summits simply to secure solitude.' https://t.co/EymyybbFXr
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 17, 2020
'The sun always rose to meet her, to greet the small sleepy child who would wake before the dawn and walk to the waters edge, lantern in hand, to light the way for the start of the day. The sun always rose when she stood sentinel on the shore so she always woke to raise the sun.' https://t.co/rizusfkXHj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 17, 2020
'Damsel of the daily dawn, draped in dappled, lovely light. Lift up the languid and the lazy, enliven the enervated, enrich the etiolated that they may strive and succeed. Oh dancer of the daybreak, singer of the springtime seasons, bring forth your blooms and blessings today.' https://t.co/O0BtOUPWtV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 17, 2020
'In the valley of the river king all would seem aright, in the hall of the river king, he rules with might. In the gorge the river brings, peace reigns supreme, in the depths of the mountain streams, not all is as would seem. For when the snows grow thin, they wash away all sin.' https://t.co/vZdcmgOqMj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 17, 2020
'Staggering to behold, stupefying to contemplate its construction here amid the mighty mountains, far from any city or civilization, the Hall of the Gods was a beacon for any true traveler. Yet, it had not been built to the gods, but to the memory of science after the Advent.' https://t.co/otB7Vap5BS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 16, 2020
'Our lives are fraught with perils and challenges on all sides. When we are young, we know not the dangers and only see that which we are not allowed, that which we have not explored, and we want it all now. Those that guide us in this world sometimes protect us from ourselves.' https://t.co/53CDM1hSH0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 16, 2020
'Local legend spoke of the spine of the sleeping dragon, dozing amid the mists of the mountains. They spoke of of the devastating destruction of ages ago and how they were safe so long as the dragon dreams. Alas, this was no dragon but a violent volcano and it would soon awaken.' https://t.co/1ZNfpdkatf
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 16, 2020
'The achievements of science and engineering lead to longer and more luxurious lives for all. Over time all advances equalize among the multitudes, and the frills of the rich become the standards of the masses. Unfortunately, all too often, so too the wanton waste propagates.' https://t.co/FNWtpILv7e
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 16, 2020
'The world was not simple, nor was it solid. The world was fashioned and forged by the actions of many at the behest of the few. The will of but one could make a difference, but often that change was fragile and fleeting. He wanted real change, he wanted a better world for all.' https://t.co/8WQ4NyMRmv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 16, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 15-21, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
