AN UNUSUAL ENCOUNTER

PIX UNICORN

AN UNUSUAL ENCOUNTER

Some days are different from all other days. Other days, months, years seem to pivot on days like today.

I was hungry, and I went dumpster-diving behind the local grocery store.

And, suddenly, life ceased being normal.

Next to the dumpster, stood a huge unicorn; his horn sparkling in the Colorado sun, as if it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

He lowered his head, almost as if he was looking down his nose and laughing, silently, at my confusion.

I just stood there, as you do, you know, when you’ve just stumbled upon your first unicorn.

“I, ummm, hello! I’m Wendy. Nice to meet you. Ummm… is your magic in your horn?”

“I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I have no hands. So… I can either slap you with my rather substantial tail, or I can tap you elegantly with the tip of my horn. Simple, really. But I must tell you that, occasionally, I choose simply to smack people with my tail. Sometimes that’s the only thing that seems to have any effect.”

My eyes are big as saucers, and he snickers.

“What did you think? I just prance around being NICE all the time?” He tosses his beautiful head.

I am silent.

“Child, I can sense the magic in you. I can tell if magic runs through your veins, more than death does. Don’t laugh… to me, magic smells like daffodils, but many smell something else.”

I stand, transfixed, unbreathing…

“I know if you have the capacity to turn away from hatred, leaving death behind, and drawing more magic to yourself. If you want it enough, you WILL find it. It is only a matter of time, and there is no end to time while you live.”

I could swear he almost smiled. “What on earth do you mean?”, I asked.

The unicorn throws his head in the air and laughs; as if I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Earth?” he snorts, “Why do you limit your thinking to Earth? It is a lump of rock with its own timetable; spinning until it doesn’t, until its particles migrate to other realms. You just happen to exist on it, right now.”

He lowers his head and probes me with those sparkling eyes… eyes in which whole universes seem to revolve. And there is silence, for what seems like eternity.

Maybe it was eternity. Who knows?

“Human…” he eventually asks, “do you draw the magic to you, or do you kill it when you see it?”

A sudden sob escapes me and the tears flow. “I crave the magic more than I crave life itself!”

He softly touches my tears with the tip of his horn.

“Silly girl,” he whispers, gently, “they are one and the same.”

 

 

Wendy Anne Darling, 2016.

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