Duncan Wilson's Blog, page 5
September 20, 2020
Protected: The Soma Posts
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The post The Soma Posts first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
September 9, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 8-14, 2020
'They could play for ages among the dilapidated structures, abandoned long before their days. They could, but had been warned against the dangers. So they played in their minds, spinning tales of what treasures they would find if ever they explored the ruins before them.' https://t.co/j4FlHVTH7u
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 9, 2020
'"None dare challenge my might!" The words echoed through the lonesome cedars, the burnt out embers that once had grown over the graves of the common people dead long ago. Another spell, another curse, another blight. None dare challenge the lich, for there were none left alive.' https://t.co/TBGyMjoh69
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 9, 2020
'How bucolic was the breeze that wafts through the trees. How busy were the bees that flit and float on the breeze with ease. How languid and lovely were the lands, the furrowed fields lined with copse and stands. Life here was as still and serene as any life had ever been.' https://t.co/K8Z7geyYtZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 9, 2020
'Theirs was a world of great heights, of cliffs and falls and clamorous climbs to seek shelter or succor. Theirs was a world of rock and river, of hoof and wing and tooth and claw, of hunt and flee, of life today and no sign of tomorrow. Theirs was the wild, and it was savage.' https://t.co/ZUK7nbIjwr
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 9, 2020
'The chill of the coming darkness, a brisk blast from beyond the breakers, serenading the setting of the sun in a waning whisper of a wind, gave warning to all that scuttled and crept upon the sand. They would have to seek shelter for the night, against the cold and high tide.' https://t.co/K5um4irEmZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 9, 2020
'Her heart was sacred. It had borne her through her life without err, it had sustained her through love and loss and love again, it had supported her through hardship and joy, and now, now that it was no longer a part of her, it faithfully bore the last blooming of her soul.' https://t.co/882rAMrHvm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 8, 2020
'He wished he were deaf. The tormented screams, the wailing and retching of the spirits as they were torn from their afterlife tore through the chamber from the tear between worlds. Yet, he could ignore the sound but for her. He wished he were deaf to the screams of his love…' https://t.co/QMpkzVtoMf
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 8, 2020
'They had sought life everlasting, and had sacrificed kingdoms and armies, families and fortunes for their prize. All was forfeit to the continuation of their existence, all else was the price for infinity. But now, in their gilded forever, all they have is endless days alive…" https://t.co/Tin9nWcGJe
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 8, 2020
'Picturesque, pastoral, peaceful… The land of the three had known little but prosperity these past centuries, an abundance of art and an acculturation of all who called these lands home. There was a price for this peace, oh yes, but it was paid far away in other lands…' https://t.co/UUbZ3mKSK7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 8, 2020
'His joints were brittle but not from age. No, he knew no age, he knew no time but eternity. No, his joints were brittle for all that he had seen. From a time there were only trees, he had watched life unfold. Myriad species had come and gone, and each death made his bones ache.' https://t.co/2437IAUnKe
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) September 8, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 8-14, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
September 2, 2020
The God Of The Gaps – New Patreon exclusive short story
I have posted a new short story called The God Of The Gaps to Patreon for all $5 patrons and above. This is the 4th short story available to all $5 patrons and above.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/god-of-gaps-40970309
The post The God Of The Gaps - New Patreon exclusive short story first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
September 1, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 1-7, 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
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: September 1-7, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
August 22, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 22-31, 2020
'She would know truth. She would not fail. She would know all that was and is and would be. There was no other option, no place for failure. The world had known enough hardship, enough suffering, enough ignorance. She would know all by her sacrifice, then she could change all…' https://t.co/9YvJEfBL0N
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
"Distant crash and ceaseless roar, clouds a'roil and breakers 'score! The ocean swells know no rest, the storms above and about unending, but the sun bids adieu as its day is ending. The seas will surge throughout the night, as the sun rests it's light far out of sight." https://t.co/LFLyHEjvLr
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
'The seed stones were massive by any definition, and unstoppable once they touched down. No barren world would remain so once the stones fell from the sky and let loose their life upon the surface. Existence is harsh and unforgiving, but the life of the seed stones perseveres.' https://t.co/nGGIoVZgG1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
'It was a very old monk who stood guard over the restless dead. His body was but a shell, and wearing away a little more every epoch, but his mind was sharp and focused and clear. The longer he stood, the more he had to guard against, but he would not give ground, he could not.' https://t.co/NShWaTvTxp
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
'When the sky broke the earth, and the rocks took to the air, there was much wailing and panic. But that was long ago. The impossible had become the rule, and their lives had settled down. Now they caught floating remnants and made bridges to tie their world together once more.' https://t.co/HGimVoj1mi
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
'They were leaving her behind, not for the first time. They were departing, perhaps for the last time. Long had she dreamed of soaring through the skies with them, but there was always some reason, some excuse… Now, she was being left behind, but this time it was her choice.' https://t.co/VUt9C8pdlZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 31, 2020
'On cloudless nights, when the moon is bright and the stars are on parade in all their glory, sometimes even the hunters rest and look to the heavens, imagining other worlds beyond their grasp, dreaming of another life among the lights, the shooting stars, and rivers of the sky.' https://t.co/JEwGPtsygM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 29, 2020
'There were no monsters here, no dragons to slay, no ancient evils lurking, lying in wait to be vanquished. This was a peaceful, pretty place of tranquil trees and sparkling springs, where small creatures could be carefree. None of that mattered to her. She was on an adventure!' https://t.co/uCvk3SmGIK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 29, 2020
'Early in the eerie mornings stood the sentinal, always in shadow or mist, always still and solemn, never speaking, never blinking. The village was haunted, everyone knew, but the creature had never struck, had never but kept at a distance, ever watching, ever waiting…' https://t.co/P1o43b6Gwt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 29, 2020
'Cascading shards of energy and matter, mashed together with terrific force, ricocheting off each other in a fiery inferno of bonds bursting! A chain-reaction, a dance of dismemberment and destruction as all energy was unleashed from the tiniest of atoms into the larger world.' https://t.co/d0MarHNzGP
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 29, 2020
'Why, oh why, is there a castle in the sky? Does it dwindle, does it wither, as it drifts hither and thither? Do they look down from their heights, wondering at all the earthbound sights? Oh mighty castle in the clouds, why do you float in mists, half hidden in shrouds?' https://t.co/lPVZcMs4Wk
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 29, 2020
'It was an old song well sung and well loved. The melody was meandering and the rhythm often drifted and wandered which suited them just fine. The open road was a dream to many and a life to the few that had nothing to lose or everywhere to see. Theirs was freedom, without care.' https://t.co/83H3WLCDvY
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 28, 2020
'That was it. No wait. Not that. Not this not any of these. None of this was right, none of these would do. She blinked, sighed, and looked again. Yes? No. She shook her head, closed her eyes against the tears, took a deep breath, and tried again. One of these had to be her.' https://t.co/xZIb2wqr6c
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 28, 2020
'It was the time of dying, when the once thick and vibrant foliage would dry and fall, when the waters would run cold and the winds blew chill. It was the autumn of the year and all life was in decline. Some slept, some crept into deep holes with fodder, to wait 'til the spring.' https://t.co/QbVvXNFG3b
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 28, 2020
'They had been studying the ruin for ages. The order was dedicated to learning all they could of such things, of the lost legacies of past peoples, and this ruin intrigued them more than all others. Every generation they sent scholars to study and learn. One day they would know.' https://t.co/b8GW4HZkrh
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 28, 2020
'They grew together over time. No one forced them to bend their branches and embrace. No, the path between them was well traveled and many a beast and man interfered with their limbs, batting them aside or cutting them away to ease their travels. Yet still the pair intertwined.' https://t.co/hB9YGJ6TH1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 28, 2020
'What is failure to the driven? What is success to ambition? No matter the victories, no matter the triumphs and the might attained, there was always that next horizon, that greater achievement to aspire to, to seize and make her own. No, this was not enough power, it never was.' https://t.co/dZl5ymksdU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 27, 2020
'"5… 4… 3… 2…"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 27, 2020
Countdown to destiny. This was it, the final test of centuries of work. So much by so many to be decided in the next seconds. But as the ship neared the warp point, the towers twisted, the ramp turned….
"1… 1… 1… 1…"
A countdown to infinity….' https://t.co/obqMFAZFku
'They could not tame it. So many lost in the effort that they always sent more to try, so the rest did not die in vain. Alas, it was all in vain, for the fires of the fiend were unstoppable and the spirit of the beast was not to be broken. Nay, they could not even chain it long.' https://t.co/QvHlWaUEGS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 27, 2020
'No one knew where they came from or what they were. Speculations were never in want, and all held a few theories to heart on the nature of the spheres. Fear, wonder, adoration, indifference. All knew and thought of them and idly asked if they would ever know their purpose.' https://t.co/pStWDuqvG5
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 27, 2020
'They would wander the skies for hours, swooping in and out of clouds, playing with the winds and hiding from the sunlight as a game. 'They were not hunting, they were not traveling, they were not seeking. They were simply flying to fly, and they could wander the skies forever.' https://t.co/xgD1Rcd3EV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 27, 2020
'"How does the moon stay in the sky? Why does it not fall and crush us all?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 26, 2020
Such were the questions of the young and the foolish. Such were the questions of men of old, in the times before science and the study of the heavens. For, you see, that was no moon. They were the moon.' https://t.co/jt7iJv49I1
'Terra-forming was expensive, prohibitively so for any society without the force of will to wield great power for uncertain outcomes. It takes monumental sacrifices and coordination to even plan for such an endeavor, and even the grandest efforts take tremendous time to pay off.' https://t.co/QJcsxMLqgs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 26, 2020
'From life, death, from death, life. All that is will fade away, all that will be will not stay. Cycles of seasons, seasons of being, endless repetition of propagation, expiration, fertilization, and germination. From the corpses of the old spring the young. From life, life.' https://t.co/13v3zEZcJh
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 26, 2020
'Nature is never silent, but it so often seems so. No, the birds, the bugs, the small and stealthy animals can all be heard if you listen. Even the trees and grass bend in the wind and make themselves known to those with the patience of mind to slow down, to stay still, to rest.' https://t.co/xMBiVs7XVv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 26, 2020
'Once, long ago, they had been a threat, a fierce and fearsome foe that threatened to hunt and kill until none were left. But at the height of their power, the balance shifted, and now they posed no danger at all. Now, the towers in the sky stood monument to the last of mankind.' https://t.co/c3mmXM1sfy
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 25, 2020
'Beware the corpsevine! Let alone it grows too strong, too restless, too thirsty for the blood of beast and man! Abominable animator, cadaver collector, eye eater! Pluck out and cast into fire this wicked weed, and for the love of all life that ever was, never let it bloom!' https://t.co/3D3Z2vqVpG
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 25, 2020
'"Hush, my pets. They will hear us."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 25, 2020
They were his, and always had been, even as a child when he dreamed of any other future than the one that came to be. They had always been there, lurking, waiting, knowing one day he would don the robes, take up staff and become their god.' https://t.co/kFS25IcSrn
'Sedate, serene, stupid, the cows cropped the grass and chewed their cud. They had no worries or cares beyond their next graze. The humans about had worries and doubts, but the cows had only heat and flies to plague their days. Just another summer to meander and pass in a haze.' https://t.co/FQBHxYK5uG
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 25, 2020
'It was just a painting on the wall. That's what her mother and father told her, and that's what her friends believed. It was just pigments in patterns, an illusion of something not real. She swung her swing and sang her silly songs of make believe and knew they all were wrong.' https://t.co/gE1yparbO7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 25, 2020
'A sign! A portent! A herald of woe and ill tidings! So many stories of the whale in the sky, so many fears made manifest by the specter of a creature that should not be. They would make the sign and avert their gaze, saying prayers to make it go away. Only she chose to say hi.' https://t.co/RJaa82GxUK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'"Where are we going tonight, friend?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
"Beyond the breakers, there is a hidden cove, with treasure."
"Is it safe to be on the waters in this storm?"
"No, but there are greater dangers than the storm about tonight."
"Should I take a turn at the oars?"
"No, just relax, friend…"' https://t.co/M5wtf0GQ7v
'In the deep dark waters of the abyss, light fades the farther you sink. Here, her colors faded to black then faded from sight. No, this was not her home, and she would have to be careful of those it was. Here, she did not want to be seen at all. Here, she should flee the light.' https://t.co/HIL6XykaLV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'They lit the way and showed her where not to go. The path was fraught with peril, as each shard attested. The way was long and long attempted by her people. The truth was there goal, if they could but reach it. The spirits of those gone before hung along the path, guiding…' https://t.co/FF8EWuxGDE
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'The older she grew, the more often she walked the hidden trail among the trees, breathing in the fresh smells of nature, of life among the undergrowth, secreted away from sight. Every time she walked the path, there were a few more flowers, a few more memories blooming in blue.' https://t.co/yBXfQ8nUHU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'No one appreciated solitude anymore. The big cities on the big worlds held almost all of mankind, packing together when all the sky was open to them. Not her though. She treasured isolation, her separation from the toil and the hustle. Just her, the stars, and her best friend.' https://t.co/bnpBFrPHWx
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'It needed more land, just not where she had been adding it. No, this one was not quite right, not quite ready yet for life to be added. There was still too much chaos, too much out of place. Perhaps she needed to add still more detail to the other side to balance the world….' https://t.co/R1PYlcd228
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'It was a good harvest. The scourge had reached far and wide, aided by the fears and fighting among the mortals. They turned on each other and bickered rather than fight her foul plague. Some denied she was walking among them even as they fell. Yes, it was an excellent harvest.' https://t.co/HlcUDe2xLJ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'The faint red glow grew stronger every new moon. One by one, the pillars of the gods, long revered in this land, began to glow at night, adding their light to the growing crimson in the sky. Soon, the night would be as bright as day, but bathed in blood rather than daylight.' https://t.co/IzRJEHKXyp
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'Kings are not ordained, but forged by might and the will and desire to rule over all other. There were no challengers to his claim, none alive anyway, and he crowned himself in the glory of the conquered and the slain. He was king, for the moment, a king of blood and power.' https://t.co/joxE8LlNiM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'They lived in he legacy of a once great empire. Their little community had never been a major power in the realm, never more than a remote outpost in a distant corner, but they had inherited the knowledge and expertise of their once glorious overlords, which kept them secure.' https://t.co/VauC72TxHs
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'It had been far easier to capture than to tame the fearsome egg stealing demon of the southern swamps. She had simply offered it food and let her slip a rope around it's neck. Now that she had it though, it was proving hard to focus and impossible to train. She would still try.' https://t.co/zyRlZvKOQm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 24, 2020
'The flash and bang, the smoke and sirens, the roar and screams of other protesters turned fighters as the police turned to thuggery and savagery to preserve the parasites at the top. They had been but another citizen a month ago, now they were a warrior of liberty and dignity!' https://t.co/dZb6hGbIfE
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 23, 2020
'They were dignified frogs, with distinguished tastes and refined repositories of ornate and opulent outfits, outfits for all outings or occasions. Yes, they were noble creatures, but spent most of their time in the buff, deliberating on which clothes to don that day.' https://t.co/rvZ85HCLUQ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 23, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 22-31, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
August 15, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 15-21, 2020
'"Stand and deliver!" The cry would sound, in a small squeak from the ground, and any passerby would be obliged to stop and stoop and pay the passage so demanded. They were harmless, no matter their manner, but all obliged. After all, they only asked for crumbs and berries.' https://t.co/CsyxxOkWsA
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'It was a wizard's grave, the grave of the last wizard to ever live. They had forged a world of wonder and of terrifying magnificence, but they had forgotten their own limitations in the forming and the magic of the world had strained and cracked, and the world crumbled with it.' https://t.co/SmHhm97Hfb
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'From the ring cities in the distance, rescue came as it always did. They had traveled too far from the comforts of their upbringing, from the safety of their society and technology. That had been the point, but no matter the risks they took, nothing seemed challenging anymore.' https://t.co/u6x646VqLv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'The dust storms were a hassle to be sure. The sanctuary seemed almost purpose built to collect as much of the airborne dirt as it could in the worst spots to clean. Still, while the acolytes of the key grumbled, still they swept after every storm, chanting the hymn of the lock.' https://t.co/D3u7wNprVv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'The frog of good luck was a small god, and never popular. Austere adults thought it small and silly, and it rarely blinked. For when it blinked, some small child would find a coin or score a goal. Unpopular, and fairly useless, still the frog was adored by luckless children.' https://t.co/wZgOV5p4F8
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Whimsy and joy and the laughter of children had brought her into this world, and every night the dream princess cast forth the grandest and happiest of visions, to dance in the heads of all who were young or young of heart. She was a dream creating dreams, and she did it well.' https://t.co/RAFm5ODjPP
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Secret societies and clandestine cults across sickened societies and corrupt countries in all ages had slaved arduously and with no small amount of innocent blood to open the night gate. The why had been lost long ago in the quest, only to be asked anew as the demon emerged.' https://t.co/1hDK4Q64uW
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'At last she had found it, this relic of mages past, long since lost to common knowledge. This could be the answer to all her people's troubles, or perhaps give her the powers of a god. Still, as she studied and contemplated her prize, she wondered why the mages past had passed.' https://t.co/1SdBCsdUpU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Oh how frightened the whole world had been when they had first arrived, these unfathomably massive creatures from the depths of space. But beyond an interruption of air travel soon adapted around, they had proven gentle, playful, benign. Now, the sky whales were treasured.' https://t.co/FnzlMPAyiR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'At first, few believed the tales of the maiden of the depths, dismissing the wild tales of those who had seen her as diving fever or worse. Yet, as more saw her, floating eerily among the ruins, always seeking, always searching for those she had lost, they began to fear her.' https://t.co/hmXxlFB01D
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Life was unfair, it was true. Some days you would eat, some days you would be eaten. Some days you would feed on life some days you fed another in its fairer days. Life was but the one sort of day until it was the other. This thought served no comfort for the firefly today.' https://t.co/EuAaC0od6k
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Another day without a meal. This was normal now. Soon it would have to leave its homeland or starve. Every week there were fewer rats to catch or carcasses to scavenge as the air grew hotter and dryer. The plants had died long ago. Now their roots were dry. His home was dead.' https://t.co/wBu1xLq1B6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'He almost screamed. Some did loudly. He stayed still though he felt like struggling. It was odd, eerie, and unnatural, but he could not think of what to do next. Panic was coupled with passivity. As they floated higher all he could think was how he had forgotten his phone.' https://t.co/VglYxq954M
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'She did not need the colors of the sea beneath her skin, she was already one with that world, she was as part of it as it was part of her. No, she did not need to write its mysteries upon her, but still she added more with each passing season, out of love of her domain.' https://t.co/TLSRzuwZNO
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'The evening sun always cast such an alluring hue upon the world. The hottest hours of the day were also the most colorful, when crimsons danced with deep oranges and vivid greens. Golden hour was more than just beautiful though, it was also when all sprites arose and played.' https://t.co/TZdQzZN56I
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Storms often broke upon the spire, built for far fiercer forces than mere turbulent weather. Or so they thought. Never had this land seen such a storm as was unfolding, and they were soon to learn that siege engines and grand dragons are not the worst the world could summon.' https://t.co/7nMvOlVT0j
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 21, 2020
'Alas, that was not the spell to toast his bread, the old wizard realized slowly, his now smaller brain only allowing for such thoughts with great effort. Well, it could be worse, he thought over the next hour. He could have turned himself into a worm like he did last year.' https://t.co/GQEoLQDJSV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The nightbeast would not give ground until the sun's rays first struck. Until then all held their ground and braced for each attack, each attempt to drive them from its lands. They had come to give battle to the brute and they would sustain what losses they must to see it dead.' https://t.co/cX61bwjm2n
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Oh little worm, how you churn the rocks to dust and turn the world asunder! Your eyes are blind to all mankind and all his wants and woes! Will you stop your onslaught before there's naught but dust and death? Bit by bit you grind to grit all that this world has." https://t.co/Vb3WkUHlsI
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'She had sacrificed so much for power. Her appearance, her youth, her ability to see purple. She thought she was invisible in her cloak of no color. Still, they ran from here and her needles. She could stitch the madness away, she could mend the world, if only they'd let her.' https://t.co/1FKPpwOyx2
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The day of the celebration, the streets were all decorated, festive but empty. The siren had sounded and the houses emptied all life flowing out of the village. Their homes, their businesses, their world now abandoned. The town was silent, dressed for a party no one would hold.' https://t.co/nSqPjYqJeT
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'It did not take long in a manner of speaking. A month at the most and the would had lost all vision. Smell had left long ago. Now all it could do was hear, so it sat still, listening to the world it no longer understood and would soon be leaving. At least it was painless…' https://t.co/xlvSgUNB4R
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'"A tall glass of… what?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
"Of life! Of that certain something any world needs to become… lively! Will work a charm!"
"Do… Do I drink it?"
"Certainly not! No, just pour it into any ocean, wait a epoch or two, and bam! Instant megabiome! And at a cost any god can afford!"' https://t.co/1H5vdvlV4Y
'The behemoth scared many when first it appeared, emerging slowly from the melting ices. Then, they thought it was dead, so slow did it move. Then, as ages wore on and no danger arose, the dragon was worshiped and then ignored. One more benign feature of the land around them.' https://t.co/qPHZSnWoHV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'"Hello, friend rabbit! I am a small furry forest creature like you!", lied the serpent.
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
"No, no, no! You do not fool me, foul snake! We do not have horns nor antenna! You've got it all wrong!"
"Curses!", cried the viper as it crawled away to look for more skins to try again.' https://t.co/wE84saLCz8
'Though the path ahead was treacherous, tried and failed by so many before, the seeker would find a way through and at last be before the throne of the gods themselves! At last, mankind would have answers to all the questions, asked and unasked, at last they would have meaning.' https://t.co/PusveRiAQE
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Tempest above, foment below, yet amidst the fury was the greatest woe! Caught between heaven and the abyss when angels and leviathans wage wars of winds and waves, the unfortunate few betwixt the blows bow and pray to any who listen to see another day.' https://t.co/ZtDigWgA6X
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Here was safety, here was home, here was family and some secure forage. Here among the berries the bunnies could dwell in peace. Here, in the garden of an elder groundskeeper who no longer tended the bower, no longer chased them away from his vines, here they were at home.' https://t.co/4jYWh4ggmJ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The question, the quandary, the mystery he knew not the answer or the meaning of, though it haunted his every waking and sleeping moment! No peace, no haven, no escape from the nagging enigma of his whole life! He could not sleep, could not think, could not know the answer.' https://t.co/Ic90CLjlwX
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The towers of man and the pillars of nature blended one upon the other, until the simpler folk supposed they were the works of ancient gods. Braver youths would climb the sides, to find but empty husks of stone inside. They were ancient, but were built by men, men of hubris.' https://t.co/ktNrRvYEf1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The land was lifeless, laid barren by the burrowing beast. The wyrm was fierce but did not strike any. Nay, the white wyrm of the salt sands was alone in the arid slopes. For, it did not feed on beast or plant, but the soil itself. The salts were a world of its own digestion.' https://t.co/EhfM5UKNSV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The power and might, the clash of wings and snap of talons shot through the skies, terrifying the watchers. Some thought it would be sudden, surely the one was outmatched by the other, larger brute could not be beaten. But speed and wit let the little one harry the larger…' https://t.co/UkoBSl9KwG
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Ahah! Stop! Look! Listen, friend! Behold a king, like your king! Watch and stay quiet, good friend! This king, like all kings, but not your king perhaps, will punish all who speak out, all who stand up, so stay silent, friend, and stay safe! Not all kings are so small or silly!' https://t.co/JqGO8VO7Fm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Another year, another bundle of books studied, another frustration. Again and again he circled the world, searching, seeking, scouring endless libraries and collections for the secret he knew he needed, even if he did not yet know why. He was immortal, but the world was not.' https://t.co/nP0jWa2AH6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'Red sky, red sands, red blood, red death from above. The western wastes were home to but fools and food for the merciless hunters from above. Few saw their own demise from the skies, swift and sharp and savage. Red scales stained redder still, from each and every kill.' https://t.co/roUWlCCxyi
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'He had names, they gave him names, each people in every age named him again. There were other spirits of the forest, each more terrifying and fearsome than the last, but the great stag of new life was the oldest, and the wisest, and the only one who mankind honored as king.' https://t.co/5IfIBa7Jmb
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 20, 2020
'The volcano had left grave scars upon the land, and in some places life had yet to return. The corpses of copses still lined the ridges where ash and clay had smothered the air. It had been many years and would be many years yet before the land recovered, but recover it would.' https://t.co/eQPzluzGE6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
Rugged domain. From half a year ago. Interesting, this painting got caught by the eye of a commissioner from Games Workshop, and got me to do some work for Warhammer40k. #digitalart #fantasy #landscape #artwork #krita pic.twitter.com/2YZ6X6ej2W
— Philipp Urlich (@somartist) August 13, 2020
'It had looked better on his father and his father's father. He did not like the colors or the cut, but every year he still wore the shirt just as they had. It was a tradition and he was always mindful of tradition. He was still a young owl but he would wear the shirts he hated.' https://t.co/vchsxCny75
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The sunburst came at midnight. Most were asleep but not all. Some saw the light that should not be shatter the darkness, some saw the illumination of the horizon that foretold their end. Alas, even those with eyes wide open had but a moment between the light and the apocalypse.' https://t.co/C5tGxKxCmU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'"Is this what you wanted? Is this what you sought? You have broken the seams of the world and shattered the boundary with the heavens! Is this what you have been searching for all these decades?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
"Aye, this is what I was looking for, but this is not the god I expected."' https://t.co/2oY69hU28K
'Nature knew no boundary, at least where nature could take hold. But on alien world and under alien sun, mankind had to fight and forge the periphery. They sought to harness and bind the wild, but in the end, long after men had died, nature would grow unchecked upon man's glory.' https://t.co/FaNQoW1xOd
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Her sorrow was endless, never could she cease. The other gods forgave her grief, for she mourned for all life and its fated end. Still, she was not just mother to the dead and dying, she was mother to those just born, and with every tear and sorrow she let another flower bloom.' https://t.co/rFumfzZDNU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The solemn march of the mourners neared the lost temple. The sacred rite was held every year, and every year was marked by the procession. None knew the dead god's name, nor the people who worshiped him, but year on year the mourners held the rite, bringing the next year to be.' https://t.co/7mR9dEv6xt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Spring, summer, autumn, winter, the cycle starts anew and renews forever. The more life grows, the more it dies, the seeds it sows grow where it lies. What was is no more, what will be was before. Summer, autumn, winter, spring, death and birth, the next cycle bring.' https://t.co/BoD1u5fhuY
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The tree of all men's dreams stood alone, far from any other, but it stood safe from ax or blight. The tree of the day and the night gave both grace and nightmare, but none dared do it harm. By dawn or by dusk, by spring or by winter, none would slumber except the tree allowed.' https://t.co/08SbTjVpMu
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'In light of day, she stands eternal, a face toward her subjects, their worship toward her. There is no limit to her power, no limit but that of nature, and her own mercy. Never should power be thrust upon any who would use it fully, and she was no monster, this day or the next.' https://t.co/LD5bF5IjDq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'All that glitters is not gold, all that rots is not old, all that sparkles is not gem, though we may still value them. Time shatters stones and crumbles thrones, murders kings and dusts their bones. All that shimmers is not treasure, and all that lingers has no measure.' https://t.co/AzZUIB5fda
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Dragons, why was it always dragons? Why couldn't his kingdom be plagued upon occasion by something simpler, like dire-wolves or wights? He would kill to have to kill a lich lord or a zombie horde. But no, it had to be dragons, day in, day out. He was weary of slaying dragons…' https://t.co/JzPMs21IfB
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Be the girl nature loves, they always told her, and she always tried. She lived her life with kindness and with grace, and became the girl small animals would seek as sanctuary from the harsh world. Now, she was no longer a girl, but she was still the woman with butterflies.' https://t.co/GiWo7ek5Cz
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Avoid entanglements she had always told her daughters, her many daughters of the sea. Avoid entanglements, be they nets or weeds or the snares of mankind upon their minds or bodies. Yes, the traps of nature were dangerous, but the lures of the heart and soul posed as much risk.' https://t.co/0eS0o0OLcN
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The city of the night's eye was never asleep, not even during the persecution of the sun. They had dreamed large and they had built greater, and in the end their monuments to their own might served as both shrine to their wills and sanctuary from their weakness.' https://t.co/DqiVtEsg4D
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The magic of the morning mist can still the murmurs of the morning melody, can silence the sounds of the forest creatures, and can steal the imagination of any who stand still and listen for the sounds that are not there and look for shapes that never were and never will be.' https://t.co/QJ66VWziAM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'For untold ages it had dwelt in the depths few can fathom, for myriad millennia it had foraged and fed in underground caverns and supped from subterranean springs. But the springs had run dry and the food had dwindled and died, so the great salamander emerged upon the earth.' https://t.co/7jguVO0R9I
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'"You know they hate us."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
"I know, for that is their way."
"You know they fear us."
"I know, for that is their nature."
"You know they would kill us if they could."
"I know, but they cannot for we do not die."
"But we're still going to help them?"
"Indeed, for that is our way."' https://t.co/hW5NPLFL9C
'They built their cities upon the sands, the shifting sands, the still sands, the hard-packed sands that could be rock on another world, but for lack of gravity. They built their cities upon the sands for there was little else to build upon. Yet still they built, and thrived…' https://t.co/cdp7ZaCv5R
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'"Do we eat it?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
"No child, we do not eat it."
"What about those?"
"No, not those either. We do not eat any of these creatures, that is not what we are. We do not eat any, we do not kill any."
"But what do we eat then?"
"Only their dreams, little one. Only their dreams."' https://t.co/t7aXePbr8s
'Life at this level, life at any stage in any age, is dark and brutal and bloody. Life is a struggle beyond a need, a driving force to survive and thrive, to strain and gain, to make it one moment more before there is no more, before the darkness of the void. Life is survival.' https://t.co/2bFYGupuyV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Why does the wanderer wander, why does the scholar study, why does the seeker search? For some, it is a matter of need, of want, of an unspeakable desire for the new, for the undiscovered, for more. For some, it is a want of something they know they need but do not yet know…' https://t.co/3MFkKuvMVj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'They knew they did not belong, they knew they were an abomination of death given life, a form no nature could sustain or even endure, they knew for they were cursed not just with life where no life should be but also with souls they should not have. Still, they could not die…' https://t.co/a8EC3dTfD1
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'Like so many over the ages, they knew not how to survive their own folly. Indeed, they would very likely perish this day at the hand of their own hubris. Yet, like so many over the ages, they had felt the risk justified for the chance of great glory, at a chance at greatness.' https://t.co/ngRbZIVr9K
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The golden forest was untouched by man or beast. Truly not even bugs or birds touched the pristine grove, said to be planted by gods themselves. None knew why, not now, not for thousands of years, why they never set foot in the wood. So it stood apart, serene, sacred, deadly.' https://t.co/vUkf6aaILX
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'The cozy house with the happy little smokestack puffing out warm smoke into the waning winter night was so simple and homey. One could almost say it was the ideal cottage upon the lake, small, serene, safe. Yet, the locals kept away as it had not been there the day before.' https://t.co/5mc6yIMsyg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'It should not, could not exist! No creature, no monster, no god like this could possibly be real! The mind shuddered and gibbered and shut down, rejecting what it saw, what it heard, what it did not want to perceive. No, this could not be real, yet there it was all the same!' https://t.co/g2BcdFWUWu
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
'This alien world was all too familiar. The ground beneath their feet was solid, the clouds above still drifted in an oh so familiar manner, even the gravity was nearly the same as their homeworld. Yet, without the safety of their suits this world would kill them in an instant.' https://t.co/vYWK649HVF
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 19, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 15-21, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
August 8, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 8-14, 2020
'He knew it was there. He saw it every time he approached the mailbox. The eyes flickered and faded away when he got too close, only to return when he walked away once more. He had always known it was there, but was not afraid. After all, it said thank you every day as he left.' https://t.co/DvZTm9DrGB
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'To most it was a wasteland, to be avoided if at all possible. There were far easier courses across the region, far less treacherous roads from here to there and naught to be found worth having here in nowhere. Still, there were some small creatures that called this desert home.' https://t.co/PKpBTR7DSM
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'It was a strange world, the strangest he had ever seen. His form here was shifting, slipping from time to time and place to place rather than moving in any meaningful manner. Odd and perhaps disconcerting to any other, but not to him. He was an explorer. This is what he loved.' https://t.co/RANPKJe4vf
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'This was her moment. No one had helped her, no one had encouraged her, no one had held her hand or showed her the way. How could they? No one had ever gone where she had nor worked as hard. Now, this was her crown, a symbol of her glory, alone in a world of her own making.' https://t.co/K5JrWlhl1g
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
''This… was not a safe place. No idle wanderer should dare venture unprepared into these wilds, these unexplored realms of times long forgotten and creatures long feared. No, this was no place for any but the best and the bravest to venture. Such as her. She was in no danger.' https://t.co/VO5uA9BNSt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'Oh the darkness we perceive, Oh the bleakness we believe, Oh little evils we conceive when our loves we bereave. Such is sadness in our woe, when pain is all we know, when no joy can we sow, then darkness will surely grow, and all those who did us wrong will grieve.' https://t.co/nWpiSwnzEk
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'His people would never believe him. He had never seen wonders like this. Truly, he must be in the lands of the gods themselves, so great were all he saw. And yet… all about him, all these miracles were crumbling and decaying. They may have been gods, but they must be fallen.' https://t.co/N7fZJoPxuh
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'She was not their mother, she was not their maiden, but the drakes would not harm her. She came among them not as protector nor as prey, but the fierce hunters of the sky posed her no danger. She was their friend from childhood, and they considered her one of them, a sister.' https://t.co/NI9S6XLbNl
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'Nothing lonelier than a crowd as an outsider. The seclusion and the solitude. The disgust and disenchantment. All dressed to party yet passed over and pushed to the periphery, another who wants to belong but languishes in the limelight. Perhaps tomorrow affinity will come.' https://t.co/KgptbHjhXV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 15, 2020
'This was it, what he had been searching for. Here, in the heart of the old wood, deep in the darkest reaches of the swamps of the past, in the decay of civilizations long lost, in the mire of those who had once been mighty but were now lost, here he would start the healing.' https://t.co/xL21uFF0rL
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'The mother of all life had suffered for her children. Many were the troubles she endured at the hands of her offspring, many were the slurs and insults given by her bitter and ungrateful issue. Yet still the mother opened her heart to her children and beckoned them closer…' https://t.co/Yd9D2XyU0h
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'It seemed too good to be true, this hiding place in the middle of the metropolis. It seemed far too special and secret amidst the tussle and toil of the sprawl of city soaring overhead. Yet, here beneath the bridges stood a nest for nature and the small of body and big of mind.' https://t.co/QFhSKb3P8A
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'All was dead. The world was torn asunder and riven with blood and ash. The gods had fought amongst themselves and destroyed all of life and creation in their struggles. None were spared, not even the gods themselves survived. But from the ashes of the dead hatched new life…' https://t.co/iTph0kJg7t
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'The old gods are not what men think. They are not mighty kings towering above, they are not mighty giants in mankind's own image. No, there are old gods, the gods that brought forth all of existence and sewed life among the stars and streams. But they are not what they seem…' https://t.co/p7czy87vrc
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'Long had he traveled, following the birds. Long had he sought the highest rise, the tallest peaks, the pinnacle of all of creation, that place closest to the heavens and to the gods therein. Long had he trekked, but just as he thought his journey over, another loomed ahead.' https://t.co/sOqZFR5Ecj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'Theirs was an old world and they were older still. Whole galaxies had come and gone in their time, and they had seen more than any mind should remember, and still was their time not yet passed. Still, they were the last of their people, and the eons could get lonely. Perhaps…' https://t.co/4YVqm8sqct
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'They were afraid, but at peace. Not so much peace as exhausted and accustomed. One moment they could converse, the next their tongues were twisted, and another they might not exist at all. They all knew their god had a plan, the world would make sense soon. Or so they hoped.' https://t.co/9Z0PpOsmIr
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'It had drunk from the amber pools of yore, the poisoned wells of the dark deep its kind had always avoided. It had supped upon the wellspring of the wild, upon the waters of the wilderness and all now was revealed. It may not last the night, but it can see all of eternity now.' https://t.co/BpsP2f9orC
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'The standing stones were lifeless, or so they all said. The silent stillness of the shallow steppe, steeped in mist and mystery, had long lay dead, or so they all thought. Yet when the lifeless stones glow and the shadows grow, all they said and all they thought is for naught.' https://t.co/oURGhlrDqd
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'The mighty mountains of mist were famous. All knew and stood in awe of the soaring white pillars, piercing the cloudy sky and shifting the storms themselves. Yet, what men had always known as majestic peaks were but the worn skeletons of grander, taller ranges from long ago.' https://t.co/6vpgzCfsoF
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'These had always been their woods. They had always been kings of glade and meadow, even when challenged by hunters, whether of two or four feet. This was their forest. They had always been there, and they would always be there, even when they were no more. They were the woods.' https://t.co/n5NZ5tctBC
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'We are not who we once were. We are not even the same person as a moment ago. Each instant, another us, each instant, another person that was here is gone, never to return, never to see who we are now and who we will be in the next moment to come. Echos of us, fading away.' https://t.co/DdbbpXqud4
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 13, 2020
'It did not want to fight those that came to fight. Still they came to try their might against its mandibles, to break their swords upon its impenetrable carapace and throw their fragile bodies at its sharp pincers. It did not want to destroy or damage. It only wanted a friend.' https://t.co/MQFwaau9FK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'He was a serious mouse. A serious mouse with a serious job and a serious life. He had no time for whimsy or wander, no mind for wit nor whit of wonder. He had serious business to be about, this serious mouse and cared not for the diversions of those less devoted to their craft.' https://t.co/TCKFSjVFPH
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'The world at his fingertips. With the merest of whispers the mightiest might cease to be, with the faintest of flickering fingertips he could unmake the whole of existence or summon forth another in its place. Yet even as mighty as he was he could not conjure himself a purpose.' https://t.co/vM87gvzwD2
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'It never ceased to awe them, even the old and experienced, whenever they passed the fallen remains of a once mighty sentinel of the wood. It was a lesson in life and in loss. Their lives were simple, true, but they knew well to treasure what little they had while they had it.' https://t.co/OopPrZHFJV
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'Another year, another whole reality brought forth, built up, broken down, burned to bits and buried and banished in the multitudinous madness of her mind. She would miss it and mourn it, then move on to the next. She had to do something to pass the time as a skull in a jar.' https://t.co/jAZq0YXfBZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'It was a pleasant enough afternoon to take a walk, not that they ever let inclement weather prevent them from their Sunday stroll. The days always seemed shorter with each passing season, but they always found the time each week to get out and enjoy the world together.' https://t.co/faBi9kHMo5
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'In midday or deep night, in shadow or daylight, in wind or rain, in loss or gain, they swoop and sing, no care what life may bring, as long as they have each other, forever together.' https://t.co/fJ9lQkljOl
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'He knew fear. He had known fear all his long life. Terror had found him when his people had vanished in the night. Horror had stalked him, haunted him every time he sought answers. He knew fear, but he did not know what awaited within the tree, and that scared him still more.' https://t.co/PR5xZVX5IZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'The mother had been crying for so long now that none alive could remember any different. The mother was crying tears of precious life that were gathered and given to those in need. They had long ago ceased asking why the mother was crying, instead giving thanks for the grief.' https://t.co/yCURwxMJoE
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'The world was not ready yet. There was so much to do, so much to change, so much to set in place, and so much yet to unset and replace. No, the world was not quite ready yet. It was much too soon for it to be added to the mix, much much too soon for such fragile things as life.' https://t.co/HaFlJa73gw
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'In the meadow lands, amid the buzz of bee and merry cheeps and peeps of birds, the sultry sunlight spreads serenely upon the surface of the waters, warming the ripples and waves of even the smallest of creatures, lighting the landscape in muted colors even as it ends the day.' https://t.co/JtBjn8GuGx
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'The owl cared not that men feared it or called it by many names most foul. The owl cared little for this world or any world that has ever been. For you see the Owl of Time had few cares in life, its next meal, its next kill, and the sanctity of the timelines it watched over.' https://t.co/88dK0ODB6Y
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 11, 2020
'The small trees and shrubs had fallen into darkness, as is natural. Their taller neighbors soon eclipsed them and grew out of sight, leaving them to languish and die out, as is natural. But even giants die eventually, and new light meant new life for those in the right place.' https://t.co/EPFA6Rcc0E
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 10, 2020
'It wasn't much but the hermit did not want or need much. The ground was hard and unyielding, the trees all dry and dying. Few animals, much less humans, ever found the need to intrude upon this land, this place of isolation. It wasn't much, and the hermit preferred it that way.' https://t.co/IGnNJJxgNS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 10, 2020
'Gnarled and twisted and turned all about, the branches must grow high for the shoots to sprout. But one of many, no more important than any, the tree perseveres all the same, Roots planted deep, inch by inch does it creep, ever outward and upward it advances its claim.' https://t.co/uCAqDWOXW2
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 10, 2020
'The wall had been there long before the city, long before the the castle. The wall had been there before there were any houses or humans living within. The tribes of the mountains had built it against a threat that no longer existed, and none recalled but in their nightmares.' https://t.co/HSrUJt0soJ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 10, 2020
'They would hunt again that night, like every night. It seemed like they had always been hunting, always been haunting the dark wood, stalking the myriad small imps and ifrits that bred in the shadows. They would hunt again that night like every night, because no one else could.' https://t.co/6PVqUW2giS
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 10, 2020
'This was but one of the conduits of power in the world, one of thousands spread amid the ceaseless snows that had taken hold so long ago. It burned brightly, but had begun to flicker and fade with age. Soon, the flame within would flutter and die out, and the snows would grow.' https://t.co/9pLCnT5sb5
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 9, 2020
'The magic she practiced to bring life from where there was none, the craft she wielded to commune with existence itself appeared gentle to those that witnessed its use. Yet long and hard had been the journey, fraught with danger, filled with blood and death, to master the art.' https://t.co/JzgjEAdCPP
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 9, 2020
'It had been hundreds, no, thousands millennia since the world had been shattered in the great upheaval, and still there places where life had not returned. Not but mosses and lichen now knew these rocks that had once been mountains. Not but birds and dragons hunted here.' https://t.co/Z7wkFNBYd0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 9, 2020
'Before there was color, before there was form, before there was wind or rain or sun, concepts and chaos swirled and danced on the edges of eternity next to nothing at all. It was not gods or men that tamed this madness, but baby butterflies, flitting and flirting with infinity.' https://t.co/DIIHbIFq1O
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 8, 2020
'Their neighbors never understood them, but then their neighbors never came to their happy valley. From terror and ignorance, all left the small community alone, cut off from the outside world, content to live in tranquility and peace with their fearsome dragons in isolation.' https://t.co/9S8mq9hAu0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 8, 2020
'They called it the demon hour, but it was not considered a cursed time when the sun shown through the hollow of the mountain. Nay, 'twas the hour for revelry and celebration, for new loves and new promises. The demon hour was a daily reminder to live while life was at hand.' https://t.co/t8P0mX2y1j
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 8, 2020
'In a quiet corner of a bustling world, the gentle river wandered amid the meadow. The wind bent the stalks of grass and rustled the leaves in the trees that drank from its banks, but little else disturbed the ease and calm of the day in the middle of nowhere in particular.' https://t.co/fM1BkvP08F
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 8, 2020
'Battenburg did not know what he was. He knew he was himself and at the same time, he felt like a little bit of everything. But Battenburg did not feel alone or afraid. The whole world was full of so many wonderful creatures, and he felt like part of each and every one.' https://t.co/qZKeFvLmsK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 8, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 8-14, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
August 6, 2020
The Old Grove – New Patreon exclusive short story
I have posted a new short story called The Old Grove to Patreon for all $5 patrons and above. This is the 3rd short story available to all $5 patrons and above.
August 1, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 1-7, 2020
'Harold was a good creature. Harold was friendly, approachable, kind-hearted to all the other creatures in the world, even those that screamed in terror and ran away. Harold was just nice like that. So he grinned his toothy grin and looked with its terrifying eyes for a friend.' https://t.co/HUBXg8N5wf
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 7, 2020
'There was a window in the canopy. It was not much, but it was large enough to let the light in. The surrounding trees were too distant to spread into the gap and the ground below would not bear any more than grasses and brush. In this gap the small bushes grew their flowers.' https://t.co/p54UaYuDuj
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 7, 2020
'It was a weed to most, pretty but poisonous both to the creeping creatures and the other flowers and grasses that grew alongside. No beast could eat it, no bug could safely tread upon it. No bug, that is, but the butterfly that bore the same colors. To it, the flower was home.' https://t.co/9X7NSf6xOq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 7, 2020
'Scourge of the borderlands, death of travelers, murder angel and monarch of misery. It was known by many names, none good. None but fools approached the otherworldly figure that walked the deserts, denuding the sands of any life rash enough to try to grow. A deity of death.' https://t.co/y57RPZzsx8
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 7, 2020
'They had traveled far and endured many hardships, but this was their land now. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. Their cattle were thriving, their families were growing. They could only hope that if they had been followed, that the dragons would not be able to see their homes.' https://t.co/5gjcsDQfw4
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 7, 2020
'The roads were woven through the jungle, with tender care for each bent limb, for each twisted vine, for every root shifted, supported, replanted in just the right place to allow for the paths continuing unobstructed. These were living roads and they would outlive their makers.' https://t.co/kxXajawJnz
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'He was the ideal man. Strong, tall, solid, dependable… He had been less than ideal once long ago, before he wandered too far into the forest, before he stumbled upon the daphnaie and meliae dancing to the morn dewdrops of the dell. Now he was the ideal man, forever amid them.' https://t.co/H89mTy5TSv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'Upon the edge of eternity, when the moon blesses the sky and stars shine amid the clouds the lonely little tree reaches for eternity. The last of its kind, sacred to the birds and bugs of the sky, the pink leafed tree serenades the night with its silence, shedding tears of joy.' https://t.co/Gm5sZNQ4YZ
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
"There are no deer in these woods. Not for many generations now."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
"But, I swear I saw one!"
"… A stag?"
"Yes! Dark as night!"
"That is no deer. That is the spirit of all the deer that once were and are no more. It haunts this forest. It is not a friendly spirit. We should go." https://t.co/AIMzVV1iMu
'The mighty wyrm of the depths bellowed in the empty air. It had emerged after centuries in solitude, no longer satisfied with what it could find in the darkness below. The earth trembled beneath its weight, the air shook from its roar. This fresh new world was the dragon's now.' https://t.co/YcaxhGs9Ow
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'The storm was gathering. Everyone could see it, everyone could smell it, everyone could feel the changing of the wind and the growing chill of the tempest soon to erupt upon their land. Some prayed, some fled, some hid as best they could. There was no escaping what was to come.' https://t.co/ejFnBHD8RT
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'In the darkness of the wood hide all the creatures who must flee from frequent foes. In the deep dense undergrowth, do prey pray to their primitive spirit patrons, seeking security, seeking sanctuary. Still hunger drives them out into the light, to seek sustenance in the glade.' https://t.co/6qcZx5mKZe
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'At last, he had found it, the source of all the chaos, of all the destruction across the lands, of all the uncertainty and upheaval that had cast most of mankind into turmoil and brought low so many ancient empires and institutions. It did not seem like much up close.' https://t.co/SVy9NkFR30
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 6, 2020
'He was not sure it was a monster. Surely, it ate many humans, but only those that came to slay it. The creature had not attacked him, and he had studied it for weeks now. Of course, it was blind, and perhaps it had yet to notice him. But still, he was not sure it was a monster.' https://t.co/wvjnlVy8Yq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 5, 2020
'There was only the one prisoner high atop the peak of the world. Those that guarded the way and the edifice carved out of the living rock spoke little but to each other, and never with their captive. Few came to visit, fewer every year. 'Twas the only fitting way to cage a god.' https://t.co/T35wam0Hzv
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 5, 2020
'The dominions of man are vast and magnificent, at least to the minds of men. But the beasts of the field and air care little for the mighty walls of the cities nor the spires reaching for the sky. Let man have his kingdoms, the wilds will always belong to untamed creatures.' https://t.co/kzUwHPIbAL
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'The chill of the winter was wearying, and was yet to wane, but still the red-breasted robin knew no worry, no want. While others fled or hid, the robin still knew where to find food, even in the worst of snows. In the stillness of the snows, the little bird was at home.' https://t.co/F8lFeiVgJt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'It is not always what we see in the mirror that matters. It is not the sadness that seems to pervade our features after so many years in the struggle of life. Often, what we see is not what matters, but the strength and warmth within that keep us looking for more in the mirror.' https://t.co/BCkmws1w1D
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'The behemoth was walking slowly now, its steps sluggish, its mind seeking naught but sleep. It was almost there now, it was almost done treading the tundra. It only had a few steps farther to lie down with the bones of its father and its father's father, and then it could rest.' https://t.co/07tavSmFit
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'Danger in the depths deigns no disguise. No need of nicety nor mesmerizing a mate with a magnificent mask. No, the powerful predator of the abominable abyss had no illusions of intent, other than the lighted lure it carried for the unwary and the unwitting. Dazzling and deadly.' https://t.co/G3b9Z3S95n
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'The white tree buds but once a decade, standing bare in the interim. None alive know why the tree can live so deep underground, or why leaves grow red. The tree, and the chamber it calls home are ancient, older than the city above. None know the last king nourishes the roots.' https://t.co/mYOX3m4Kwm
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 4, 2020
'The hulks had been there forever, longer than his species, longer than any life on his world. Some had feared the relics of another world, some had worshiped them. He was here to strip pieces away, to demolish the past to build the future. They would not be there forever.' https://t.co/kqPaQn4bdg
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) August 2, 2020
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: August 1-7, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
July 16, 2020
Twitter Art Micro-Stories: A List
Lately, I have been writing micro short stories on twitter based on incredible art and photos by the talented community there. These stories are scattered among my many other tweets, including excerpts from my book and many works-in-progress, and can be hard to find without a lot of scrolling.
So, for your reading convenience, here they are in one collection (newest to oldest):
"Can't believe you're fishing for birds. Birding!"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 16, 2020
"Not birds."
"No? Whatcha trying to catch?"
"Old droids. Ones who have nowhere to charge anymore, whose owners passed on."
"Oh yeah? What do you do with them?"
"Take them in, give them a new home."
"…Mind if I help?"
"Sure!" https://t.co/p4qWrVgaQg
'Within the shell of a dead mountain, within the walls of the earth itself, they built a house, safe and sound. No matter the raging storms of the world without, the rocks and bricks would protect those inside, sheltered and secure in their own little world within the world.' https://t.co/gJk1hw0DbO
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 15, 2020
'The trees and grasses came back after the deluge. There was so much more fertile soil to take hold upon. The old land had been swept away, but the plants adapted and seized upon new deposits and new opportunities, forging a fresh new land, bringing life back after the flood.' https://t.co/lc4yabgNhi
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 14, 2020
"There wasn't always two moons."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 14, 2020
"You're nuts."
"No! I swear! The truly ancient texts speak of only one moon!"
"Then when did the second appear?"
"No one knows, but there's a gap in the texts of thousands of years, of no writings at all. What I fear, is the arrival of a third…" https://t.co/wZCwHopcdQ
'Over hundreds of years the path was worn into the ancient stone. Not by purpose, but by a million weary travelers walking up and over the shortest path, by a million tired souls, resting upon the rock as they paused to catch their breath at the top. Now, no one remembered how.' https://t.co/th6Us2Xb30
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020
'Not long ago, one could ford the river, not long ago, this was an undivided land where the river flowed freely below the ancient mountains. Not long ago, there was no gorge, not long ago by the reckoning of the stars. Yet that was a time before the first man, not so long ago…' https://t.co/mPnIY3Wwnq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020
'The old god was at rest. Many thought him dead. Then, many thought him a legend. Then, many thought of him no more. The old god sat, still and silent through the ages, pondering the passage of time in the movement of the waves. Asag would watch the tides and storms forevermore.' https://t.co/7mG0A3nrao
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020
'The world was new, volatile, fractured and unsettled. Nothing stayed the same for long. Colossal plumes of gas erupted upon the shattered plains, thrusting jagged shards of crumbling rock up from below. No life could survive this hellscape. But, life had never known this world.' https://t.co/d0dOfuYCTU
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 13, 2020
'Lush was the valley below the great peak, filled with all manner of creature and plant thriving among the cold waters. The summer melt brought the waters and the bloom of trees and grass fostered life in the valley for another year. The mountain was dead, but gave forth life.' https://t.co/vKOmPnZ88n
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 11, 2020
'The storm was coming. They all knew it. The birds and the lords of the sky sought refuge at the heart of the gathering tempest, circling, on guard, ready to flee the moment the winds shifted. They all knew the storm was coming, but none knew what would be left once it was gone.' https://t.co/p7B0w5Fziy
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 10, 2020
'It took ages, but the portal was built. It took another age for the people of the doomed world to filter through to the other side, a refuge from their dying lands. The portal stood alone and silent on the dead world. One day it lit up and refugees started to return…' https://t.co/lCMwxHz7zH
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 10, 2020
'It was a long and difficult climb to make an offering to the god of the summit, but every week he would make the journey with thanks in his heart.. Little by little, his fortunes fell and his people died away, but still he sacrificed. Surely, persistence would pay off some day.' https://t.co/0Q44Yl6FkK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 7, 2020
'Gods, giants, wizards, wyrms, dragons, and demons, all had created the hidden rift valley in the old stories. None knew how it came to be. In truth, it did not matter. Those that settled in the concealed chasm led peaceful, prosperous lives, hidden away from the wider world.' https://t.co/S76xHNh8WB
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 7, 2020
'In the chapel of the vale, there are but few parishioners. The path to the place of worship is treacherous for those who know where it lies. Yet, no matter how few come to pray in the lonely sanctuary, none are turned away for want of wealth. The chapel is a refuge for all…' https://t.co/g5CHsMmR4y
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020
'The songs started at dawn. The haunting wails of the creature wafted across the land as it slid through the air, but none paid it anymore mind than they did the birds or bees. No one knew what they were, but no harm had come in the millennia since they arrived, so none cared…' https://t.co/1Xbhvbz091
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020
"T'was late in the season, the roads were slick with ice. T'was late in the season, the streams had ceased their flow. It was late in the season, his cart was full of spice. T'was late in the season, he made to race the snow. T'was late in the season, the risk worth the price…" https://t.co/zaYcUFZxa7
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 6, 2020
'"Do you see lights rising up from the ridge-line?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) July 1, 2020
They looked at him in shock, backing away in horror. "Oh no… Your time has come! Only the damned see the lights! They'll be here soon!"
He stammered in fright, but they were already chanting. Then he saw the white horses…' https://t.co/puTIJ0arWa
'No one knew why it was there. No one knew what it was for. There was no city here, not even settlements. The tower stood alone. Many came to see it, to study it, to dream of it, and when they went away, their dreams remained. Little did they know, their dreams were the tower.' https://t.co/l3usRDvY4L
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 30, 2020
'There is trade between gods and men. Men would pray and gods would bless. It had always been that way. It is why their city thrived, or so the lords of the city always told their subjects. Yet the subjects prayed as well, seeking something far different in trade from the gods.' https://t.co/4SOLXltkul
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 30, 2020
"The silence shattered with a million gasps! The clouds were parting, the darkness receding, the sun they thought they'd never see again but as a dim haze above, emerged from beyond the gloom! The pharos was alive once more! Hope and light had returned to the world at last!" https://t.co/WPv2Klqmpq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 30, 2020
'Few walk the land of the dragons. There is no need. Few creatures can live and nothing grows in this remote region. Some brave souls come every so often to challenge themselves and learn their worth. Few walk the land of the dragons, but many that should be feared fly.' https://t.co/pIGfFHs3V0
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 25, 2020
'The rider did not, could not, look up for fear they would notice. The guardians of old were jealous of the path to the temple of truth. None had dared venture there since they took up watch. But the terrified rider kept toward the temple. Someone had to try to learn the truth.' https://t.co/YpeCCJyUa6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 25, 2020
"They had been an empire once. The relics of a glorious past served as a reminder of their lost power. Grand structures, crumbling away with the ages, the memories of their reign fading away with the features on every edifice. Their life was simple now, simple, small, serene…." https://t.co/xdELtLK9VR
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 23, 2020
"Far from the gleaming cities with their teaming crowds, far from the grand cathedrals and grander monuments to the glories and triumphs of civilization, the isle of the wilds sits in solitude. Few frequent its shores or worship at its sacred shrine. Far too few feel so free." https://t.co/sahksADrbw
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 23, 2020
'The Temple of the Missing Gods existed before the faiths of today. When it was built, there were many more gods than now, each with their own temples and followers. But gods rise and fall and every generation there are less than before. The Temple was ancient, and full of gods.' https://t.co/57Q3XCtBt4
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 19, 2020
The house loomed on the hill above, casting pools of eerie green light and darker shadows in the gloom about her. Turning to her companion, she asked, "Is that it? Is that the house you warned me about? The house of evil?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 11, 2020
"No, that is the home of the one who holds it at bay." https://t.co/d8M3sdWq96
"They all looked up, toward the horizon, following the movement of the birds above. They all looked, silent, reverent. Today was a rare day, one of the few days they ever caught sight of the old tower. An age ago, it was their strength. Now, it was a memory, seldom seen." https://t.co/ymYU2lKBLq
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) May 25, 2020
"No matter how dark the night got, no matter what the blight blotted all about, the tower stood alone, aloft, aloof. It was never stained in the sins of the simple, it was never tainted by the corrupting touch of life, but only because the tower never deigned to become involved."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) June 5, 2020
"It once was a symbol of power, authority, and dominion over the lands around and all who dwelt therein. Now, as the tides go in, and the tides go out, it is a symbol of nothing more than the passage of time, and the memory of long ago times, fading and crumbling with the ages."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) May 25, 2020
"A gateway into another world?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) May 19, 2020
"Perhaps. Perhaps it is but a gateway into your own soul, where the only company is your own mind."
"Okay, now I'm scared…."
In that moment between light and dark, in that period between the seen and the unseen, the hidden colors of the world burst forth to paint our skies and our lives, brilliant and vivid for but a brief time, only to fade swiftly to grey, not to be seen again for another day.
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) April 29, 2020
The place seemed so tranquil now. Every so often, a jogger or hiker would pass by, never knowing, never suspecting. Water washes all away in time. No trace remained of either of them anymore. Not their footsteps, not their blood, not even their bones remained after so many years.
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) April 11, 2020
