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Tag: serial tweetstory

The woman, and the god who loved her

Once upon a time, a god fell in love with a mortal woman.
Ah. You nod. You’ve heard this tale before? Well, many tales start that way.

So this god went to this woman’s house, and appeared before her in all his godly splendour. She greeted him kindly and invited him in.

This might have been unwise – there are many vile beings that can not enter a dwelling unbidden – but she did so, and offered him wine.

The god smelled the wine, wrinkled his beautiful nose, and waved his fingers over his cup, and hers, to make it a perfect vintage.

He smiled. “I am, as you see, a god.”
She smiled back, though not as widely, and put her cup down.
“I come to take you away,” he said.

Buri and the Winter dark

Buri took his wet boots off, climbed up on the stool by the fire, and hung them up to dry on the smoke rack.
“I hate this.”

“It will be better when snow comes,” his mother said. “Dryer and brighter, and the cold bites less.”
“Soon,” Buri nodded.

But no snow came. Every day Paws, the old cat, looked out the door at the grey and rain, and gave Buri a disapproving stare.

Then one night, Buri woke up with the cat sitting on his chest.
“Get dressed,” Paws hissed.
“Wha- why?”
“To find Winter.”

Mummy on Mars

There’s a prompt that’s been going around a while, about the first astronauts on Mars finding a dead human body, or a skeleton, and some words written. It came to mind the other day, but I couldn’t decide what words I’d put in. If only I knew, I thought, which my readers would like the most.

So I got the idea of making a poll, and then the choose-your-own-adventure followed from there. Below, I’ve collected the whole story, as it was told over three days, with the popular vote-winning option always at the top of the list, and the others struck through. It was hard to write, and it reads a bit disjointed, but it’s not bad for a first effort, I think. I had as much fun as I had stress over it (since I had no plan, and only wrote a new part in response to the concluded vote until the tenth or so episode).

Many thanks to the thousands of readers who voted and kept reading.


The first astronauts on Mars found a dead body in a cave, and four words written in blood:

  • Ad S.P.Q.R. in aeternum
  • My time machine works!
  • Damn you Edgar Burroughs!
  • Fly, you fools! Fly!

The dragon dreams

The dragon dreamt a different life, in which it was human. No matter how it tried, it couldn’t wake up, and soon you forgot this is a dream.

Maybe, you think, I’m dreaming now. Maybe I’m someone else, dreaming this life.
But what if I’ve dreamed up kittens, maybe they’re not real?

Maybe you created kittens. That’s something to be proud of. Your dreams keeps them in existence.
Sleep, dragon, for the sake of kittens.

A tenth life

The ninth time she died, she found no path back; nothing to climb, no crevice to sneak through.
“Come,” Death said.
“Shan’t,” she said.

Death shrugged his bony shoulders. Cats can not be argued with.
“Then I shall not see you again.”
“Your loss, I’m sure.” She washed her paw.

She was alone, on a featureless plain stretching from horizon to horizon under a starless sky.
She washed her other paw, then had a nap.

She picked a direction, then wandered, napped, and wandered some more until she got bored. The plain did not change, neither did the sky.

When she woke again, she noticed a faint smell of cheese. She stood up, stretched, sniffed the still air, and wandered towards the scent.

After a while, she found a boy in simple clothes.
“Hello,” he said, “can you show me the way home?”
“Did you not meet someone tall, skinny?”

Summons

The robot opened itself, took out five power cells, and placed them at the pentagram points. Not blood, but it hoped the sacrifice would do.

It began the incantation. A sticky darkness fell over the center of the pentagram, the power cells exploded, and a shadowy figure appeared.

The demon probed the mystic bonds, then turned to the robot.
“Why have you summoned me?”
“Do I have a soul?”
“Would you bargain with it?”

“Do I have a soul?” the robot repeated.
“A machine can not summon or bind my kind,” the demon said. “Yes, you have a soul. Do you offer it?”

“Now I know,” the robot said, and performed the banishment ritual.
It could not smile, nor frown, but stood still in thought.
“Now I know.”


Written and posted as a series of tweets.

The knight

“What now?” said the dead mouse.
“You’re dead,” said Death. “Do what you like.”
“I’ll be a dragon!”
“Nice,” said the cat. “I am the knight.”

The mouse swelled up to a huge dragon. “You are dead!”
“I’ve died a few times,” the cat knight said. “Doesn’t mean I’m dead.”
She charged.

The cat stormed through the house, turned, batted something only she could see, dodged invisible blows, jumped up on the chair, and struck.

“Aw, she’s playing,” her humans said. “Look at her go.”
Shortly, the dragon was defeated, and the cat knight went to reassure her humans.

“You are safe now,” she purred.
Then she went to have a nap, to be rested in case more ghost monsters attacked.


Initially just meant to be a single-tweet story, but I was asked if the cat was dead too, so apparently what was obvious to me needed to be spelled out. If a cat has died once, it can see the dead. Which explains what cats are doing when they are fighting something invisible.

The last dragon

“Sir knight,” the king asked, “why build a robot dragon?”
“Training.”
“Why? You slayed the last dragon.”
“Er. No. It’s to train its kid.”

“How will you train it, sir?” the queen asked.
“I will raise it to be the best dragon it can be.”
“And then slay it?”
“I… do not know.”

Monsters under the bed

“Dad, there’s a monster under my bed.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve trained you. Here, your sword.”
“But-“
“Be bold, my girl! Save us all!”

“Um,” she said, feeling very silly. “Still there?”
“Yes,” the monsters under the bed hissed.
“I’m moving, to uni. Um. Will you come?”
“Yes.”

At the border

At the border:
“Do you love your country?”
“No. I am an emotionless murder robot.”
“Ah… Let me check with my superior. Wait here.”

“Do you love your country?”
“Yes.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, it’s true.”
“What’s its favourite colour?”
“It’s ‘color’.”
“Welcome!”

“Do you love your country?”
“No.”
“Do you love your flag?”
“No.”
“You got to love something! Do you, I dunno, love your eyes?”
“Sure!”
“OK.”