For days the able men of the village hunted the unicorn. But they always came back with only the weapons in their hands and sweat on their brows. A woman was ill and it was said that only the horn of a unicorn could save her. But too well the unicorn hid from its hunters.
One night the woman’s young son took it upon himself to enter the woods and continue the search for the unicorn. He wandered through the maze of trees until the light of the unicorn caught his eye as it drank at the stream.
“Behold!” the boy exclaimed. “I have found that which evaded my fathers!”
The unicorn looked up from its drink and seeing no weapon in the boy’s hand called back, “Behold! The son of the men I evaded so well! Either you are a very wise young man or I am just a stupid horse.”
The boy laughed. “Neither sir. I believe it is fate that brought us together. For you see, it is because of my mother that the men hunted you. She is very sick and it is said that only your horn can save her.”
“And you do not wish to take it from me by force?”
“Surely not!” said the boy. “I would think of no such thing! Besides, as we’ve already concluded I am not wise and you are by no means stupid, so I could never best you.”
The unicorn laughed and moved closer to the boy. Moving into the light of the moon, the unicorn shimmered as if it were born from the same heavenly mother.
“Well you are only half right on both accounts,” said the unicorn. “First, you were very wise not to come to me with death on your mind, for a unicorn’s horn can only be given in peace. Second, it can only ease your mother’s pain for a time. Not cure her outright.”
The boy looked down, saddened.
“Do not be sad, dear one,” said the unicorn as it cracked a small fragment of its horn off on a rock. “Take this and put it under your mother’s pillow and she will feel better.”
The boy picked the fragment up off the ground and held it tight in his hand. He felt its warmth surge through him.
“Come back every night and I’ll give you a new piece to place under her pillow.”
“Thank you sir,” said the boy, beaming. Then he ran back home to his sleeping mother. She tossed and turned, but as he slipped the fragment under her pillow she let out a sigh and fell into a deeper sleep.
The next morning the boy found his mother awake and smiling. Something he could not remember seeing in a long, long time. And the weeks that followed were the most joyous of their recent days. Every night the boy would sneak away and collect another fragment of the unicorn’s horn, and every day he would play games with his mother and tell stories that were only mostly true, and she would clap and sing and never cry.
Soon the boy would no longer meet the unicorn out in the woods, but he always found the fragment waiting for him on the same rock by the same stream, and it mattered little to him because his mother was feeling eased in her troubles and that was what mattered most.
One night as the boy readied himself to go out into the woods there was a tapping on his window. He opened it to find the unicorn standing in the moonlight, shimmering less than he remembered. And to his surprise the unicorn’s horn was little more than a flat circle between its eyes.
“It is time, dear one,” said the unicorn. “I have no more horn to give you, and a unicorn cannot live without its horn. But I have one more gift to give.”
“But what about my mother!” the boy cried. “She’s going to suffer all over again!”
“No I won’t, son.” The boy turned to find his mother standing at his bedroom door.
“My dear lady,” said the unicorn. “I have nothing left to give but my companionship as we take this final journey together.” The boy looked back at the unicorn to see it bowing down on its forelegs.
When the boy looked back at his bedroom door, his mother was no longer there. He ran outside to see her climbing onto the unicorn’s back, barefoot and still in her nightrobe.
“I want to go with you!” the boy cried.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, dear one. You have much more still to do in this world.”
The boy looked up at his mother and saw the sickness creep back into her face and diminish the happiness she tried to project outward for her son. He smiled, knowing that the unicorn would take care of her, just as it had all along.
“Make haste if you can, my lord,” said the boy. “Though I do not wish to see my mother go, I want her to feel the wind in her hair one more time.”
The unicorn leapt forward and began their journey to the horizon.
you have a good skeleton of a story here. It probably could use a good edit from a professional, but otherwise, very compelling.
why are you so damn talented craig? it makes me sick.
Damn, I didn’t see that ending coming. Great story with an awesome twist. Nice work.
I really like this — it’s sad but happy.
Well done as usual. You have a flair for poignant fantasy for sure.
Heather has it right, sad but happy. This one would make a good little book like your other one, I think.
HUGS…
Hey, it’s nitpicking time. What’s with the “behold”? It’s used to call attention of others to what you’re pointing out, and there is no one else there! As for the general story, it is well written, but I think too sad for a child. My sister tells me that the feeling of loss is something that very young ones have lots of trouble coping with. True, it is sometimes part of life, whether you want it or not, and trying to “shelter” children from the real world rarely works, but it is really not something i’d offer a child to read. Could work for angst-ridden emo teenagers though
My 6-year old nephew can watch “Alien vs Predator” and think it’s “cool”, but sadness and loss is much harder on wee ones. It’s not about censorship or underestimating children. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You have a legion of adoring fans who will lavish praise on anything you write or do. That’s part of what the blog is about right? i’m sure you won’t let an annoying dissenting voice spoil that feeling.
That’s the sound of Bossy falling out of her desk chair. Take ye to a Publisher.
Bossy!: I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.
Craig: What I like most about your stories is that they present issue in a framework that (hopefully) encourages discussion. My sense is that some of your stories are meant for independent readers, but others are meant to be read with/by someone to a child. I could see this story being used by a parent to open a discussion with a child.
I also really like the consistency you have from story to story in terms of language, theme and feel. The stories with fantasy elements definitely “feel” like they are in the same universe (much like How To Change The Word and The Girl From Cedarwood Drive feel like they are from the same universe). I do think your work has significant potential and think the suggestions of an editor and publisher are great ideas.
I give you credit Craig, both for your discipline of writing regularly and posting your work for all to see. I know and I’m sure Dave S. can attest that any artistic life is one of constant progress with successes and opportunities for growth. It is a pleasure to share the successes with you and hope the opportunities are constructive and beneficial.
Wow, what a great tale!
Forget the kids, I can barely handle this. This story really builds up to an excellent conclusion. Something that is able to touch one immediately like that is what writing is supposed to be. Well done Craig, please keep writing, maybe the next publication could be a book of short stories…
Sorry for my lack of commenting! I’ve been in training all day. Ugh.
I’m really glad most of you are enjoying this story! I actually wrote it using the notepad feature on my iphone on the train ride going home from work last night (my thumbs were exhausted!) with some minor editing when I got back to a normal computer.
David from Brazil: I don’t really think about age groups when I’m writing. Whether that’s a bad thing or not, I’m not sure, so I can’t say for certain that this should be read by children.
As for saying that my adoring fans will praise anything I do, I think it’s a bit insulting to me and my readers. Does Super Viagra only get good comments because people enjoy lavishing praise upon me? Or are those comments legitimate because you agree with them? No one talks shizz about my dancing monkeys but me.
Well THIS particular dancing monkey would love to lavish you with praise…or slather you with coco butter, whichever, I’m not picky.
HUGS…
Polt: I’m sure I can speak for some of the others when I say: “Get in line.”
Craig: how could you do all that on your phone? i get so impatient I can barely text my mom to tell her to “open a goddamn beer for me and get the food ready, I’m almost home”.
Love the story! I found the last one more compelling but still enjoyed this one.
Beautiful story! I like that you tell a story with no regard for age – I think that’s the way to do it. I was a little worried you were going to enter The Giving Tree territory (what a snot that kid was!). Loved where you went with it. Color me impressed!
David – The Little Mermaid (my favorite tale as a child)/Bambi/Bridge to Terabithia are a few classic tales for children. And all have characters who kick it. I can certainly see your point (as a teacher of 4 and 5 year olds), but have to disagree. I think it is wonderful that we have such stories to help young children understand and cope with death or loss (shit happens). Even better if there is someone there to discuss the book and the child’s feelings. Love ya!
Very well done. Good job.
Pardon my lateness. Been away from your blog. Back now. Had to comment on this.
Great story! I found it very touching. I underestimated the depth of the story in the beginning. I initially expected the unicorn to cure the mother because the boy asked nicely. I found the element of self sacrifice on the part of the unicorn very touching. Apparently I am a sucker for self sacrifice. Selfless devotion may be the ultimate and purest form of love. There is something quite supernatural about it.
My favorite short story is the Happy Prince ( http://www.artpassions.net/wilde/happy_prince.html ) by Oscar Wilde. It has a similar theme of self sacrifice. It moved me deeply.