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The Unicorn
She shook her mane. It seemed she sparkled where the moon touched her. She was pure white, like the newly fallen snow in the winter. Her hoofs barely made a sound as she stepped forward. She leaned down to take a bite of grass. She nibbled the little tuft and then moved on.
She looked up and you could see her eyes. They were as blue as the noon day sky, and her pupils were as dark as the frozen lake. She trotted forward with grace and beauty, her tail swishing back and forth, her main bouncing up and down. Her hair was made of a silver thread that could almost be the threads from a spider’s web, easily broken, but strong and cool. Her little hooves kicked her forward gently, playful and elegant.
Only the ones who believed could see the horn, the swirl of white rising from her forehead. It seemed to make the darkness succumb to her will. Just the sight of the horn made you see the beauty and majesty of the night. You could almost see a small light at the tip, guiding the creatures of need to her side.
She could do anything for a child. She could comfort a lost and homeless girl in the dark. She could fight away the nightmares of a little boy and she could chase away the bad in the world. She would fight against the most cunning of beasts and come out as the victor. You could see her as a strong and mighty animal, with muscle and wisdom.
She turned her back and trotted out of sight disappearing through the mist. It swirled around her like a blanket and enfolded her into the whiteness. It seemed like there was now something missing. Something was gone. The magic in the trees and in the flowers had faded till it was hidden so deeply you couldn’t see it. The silence was strong, like a dagger piercing the sky. The forest held its breath waiting for her to return, but she was gone.
The trees seemed to fall asleep and the moon seemed to fade. Everything turned dull without the magic. The magic made things come to life. The magic had created her. She was created for a purpose, but now she was gone.
The magic had gone with her. She had taken it to someone who needed it, some young child in the dark, hidden from view. She has gone to give the child hope and love. Hope is the strongest of all. That is what she is meant for. That is what she is made for.
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