Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 1-7, 2020
'Old manor house upon the hill, what are the forgotten tales you tell? Who dwelt within your walls, and wandered down your halls? Did they leave or did they perish, now naught but dreams to cherish? Are they ghostly, bound here closely, or did they wander else and yonder?' https://t.co/XxtcN5YcOx
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 6, 2020
'They had torn the world from this spot, deep below the dirt where the grasses grew and the flowers flourished. They had dug down and ripped what they wanted from below, no thought to the health of the heath. They had left long ago, but still the structure stood , as a reminder.' https://t.co/7xvPN1xy0E
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 4, 2020
'It was a place of worship, of pilgrimage, of wonder and of awe. The priests prayed for its destruction while kings sought to secure it as a locus of power and prestige. They called it the Demon Throne, and all thought evil dwelt there. But it was where angels entered our world.' https://t.co/pGtIM69DUA
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 4, 2020
"What is it, daddy?"
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 4, 2020
"Don't look, child. Come we must go home. We have our catch."
"Is she ok?"
"It is not our business, child. We must not tarry."
"But she looks hurt!"
"There's nothing we can do for her. She is not one of ours. Leave it alone now."
"But, daddy! I want to help!" https://t.co/N4WQL3avhW
'They were a friendly sort, always eagerly awaiting any outsider, smiling at every stranger, welcoming any and all to stop by, have a chat, and relax in the heat of the day. They were incredibly sociable, and could not fathom why everyone avoided them, grimacing at their grins.' https://t.co/bkWkvz9J0I
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 4, 2020
'They flew in formation, as they had trained to do for so many years. She directed them through the smoke and the storm as they approached the entrenched enemies ahead. She felt pride at her warriors, these majestic dragons, but feared many would fall before the end of the day.' https://t.co/vJfv7b9scF
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 2, 2020
'It was not fear that drove her into battle with the abominations. She was not protecting her people from a threat out here in the wilds. Nor was it vengeance for some past wrong. No, her fight with the foul fiends was wholly one of disgust that any would desecrate the dead.' https://t.co/UIiE6g17hK
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 2, 2020
'Long ago, with violent tremors that tore rocks asunder, the land itself seized and split one side from the other. Ever since, life had found its way down into the earth, slowly and gradually colonizing what had once been a wound, mending the fracture perpetual renewal.' https://t.co/vkYRFXlFek
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 2, 2020
'Truly a master of wind and wing, a danger in dusk and dark, a terror to all small creatures that scurry or slither, the majestic and mysterious owl still was no stranger to want and worry. Even the hunters that fear no other must work for their meals and secure shelter.' https://t.co/UgQ5WxnSA6
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 2, 2020
'The villagers cautioned outsiders of the fungus. The mushrooms were not toxic, at least no one had died from them, but then no one ever ate them, heeding the centuries of superstition. In truth, they were delicious and nutritious, but none could get past the eerie lights.' https://t.co/b48XFrDFYt
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 2, 2020
"Admit it."
— Duncan Wilson (@MrDuncanWilson) November 1, 2020
"No."
"I was right, it did rain."
"Alright, it rained."
"I was prepared, you were not."
"Ok, you were. You brought an umbrella."
"… And the rest?"
"Look, I don't care that it's raining, it often rains. And what possible use could the cane be for?"
"You'll see." https://t.co/yNRdZ5iHO1
The post Twitter Art Micro-Stories: November 1-7, 2020 first appeared on Hic Sunt Deos.
