A recap of my #twitterfiction day 3 offering

37 #twitterficton

He had been tweeting – “It matters not that I am an
egg. It is only an icon,” or “Millions of others use it.”

38 #twitterficton

Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself. It was all in
vain. The twitter support team approached him.

39 #twitterficton

Stalking his page, enveloping him in account verifications.
It was this mournful process that made him suspect.

40 #twitterficton

He neither saw or tweeted that he thought my presence on his
page caused the hacker to come.

41 #twitterficton

When I waited a long time, very patiently, without seeing
him tweet, I resolved to favorite again. Just one post.

42 #twitterficton

So I favorited – you cannot imagine how stealthily I chose the
post- until, like a tugging on a spider’s web, he saw.

43 #twitterficton

The egg was tweeting at me. Full 140 character tweets, all
directed to me. I grew furious as I gazed at the egg.

44 #twitterficton

I saw it with perfect distinctness – a plain white egg, that
single solid color around it of the most hideous shade.

45 #twitterficton

But I could see nothing else of the tweeter or his tweets:
for I had fixed my gaze precisely upon that default icon.

46 #twitterficton

And have I not mentioned that it is skill, not madness, to
be a Twitter master such as I? I saw the direct message

47 #twitterficton

It was a low count. Just one message. Quick and dull. Hidden
in the icon of the envelope. I knew it well.

48 #twitterficton

It was typed privately so only I could read it. This
increased my fury like a drum stimulating a soldier’s courage.

49 #twitterficton

But even yet I refrained from tweeting. I scarcely
retweeted. I was motionless in my favoriting, and unfavoriting.

50 #twitterficton

I maintained my gaze upon the egg. Meantime the hellish
direct message count increased. It grew higher

51 #twitterficton

and higher every instant. The tweeter’s terror must have
been extreme! He direct messaged me more every moment!

52 #twitterficton

I have told you that I was nervous. And now at this dead
hour of the night, amid the sleeping followers,

53 #twitterficton

so strange a growing number of direct messages gave me
uncontrollable terror. Yet, for minutes, I did not tweet.

54 #twitterficton

But the direct messages grew in number! I thought my inbox
must fill. And now a new anxiety seized me-