I walk out into the hot summer night and head across the lawn to the barn. Fresh dew covers the lush grass, and I lift the small red backpack that hangs by my side so that it will not get wet. Fireflies flash silently through the air, gleaming like tiny flying diamonds. The full moon shines almost as brightly as the sun. I reach the barn, where my horse, Athena, stands in her stall. When she hears me coming, she lifts her head and pricks up her ears. She snorts softly. I reach into my backpack for an apple, and place it on the top of her door. She devours it happily. I open her stall and she prances out. I take off the thick wool blanket which covers her. She trembles with excitement. She knows what comes next. I slide her bridle over her head, and fasten the tiny buckles. I take a moment to slide my backpack over my shoulders. Then I slip up onto her broad bare back. It wouldn’t be the same to ride her with a saddle. I turn her out of the barn and we walk down the driveway until we are out of earshot of the house. Then we walk a little farther just in case. I don’t want to wake my parents. When we have gone a safe distance, I ask her for a gallop. She responds immediately, taking off, her neck stretching out, her hooves striking the ground in a quickening rhythm. The gentle thundering of her hooves ripples through the still night air. She pulls hard, asking for some extra rein. I let her have it, allowing it to slip easily through my fingers. Faster and faster we go. I feel as though we’re flying and suddenly, we are. She gives one last push with her mighty back hooves, then spreads her giant wings and we begin to soar through a black velvet sky. The moonlight is shining on Athena’s snow-white coat We fly low over the tops of trees, startling birds who are already asleep. They awake unhappily, squawking and shrieking, flapping and fluttering. We are the largest thing they have ever seen in the night sky. Then we clear the trees and we are flying over open ground, sparkling with the same dew that I walked through earlier on my way to the barn. I keep Athena down low so that people cannot see us easily. We fly over backyards where dogs look up at us and bark an alarm. But when people come out to investigate they do not see us, for we are flying so fast we are already gone. I look down to see a series of tiny ponds below me. The moonlight is shining on Athena’s snow-white coat, and I can see her image reflected in the ponds as we glide past. I ease her down out of the sky and we land softly by the water’s edge. I slide off of her back. Athena slips her delicate muzzle into the water and drinks noisily. When she is done she lifts her head and water dribbles from her lips. I cup the water in my hands and bring it to my mouth. It is cool and refreshing. I remove my canteen from my backpack and fill it. I scoop up some water and pour it over my head. Athena watches me closely, enviously. I pour the contents of my canteen over her back and she closes her eyes in bliss. I refill my canteen and relax on the bank of the pond as I sip from it. I am suddenly aware of just how beautiful the night is. The moon’s reflection dances across the water. Crickets sing from the nearby meadow. Tiny bats flutter over the pond, snatching mosquitoes out of the air and swooping down low for an occasional drink. The scent of summer flowers lingers in the air. After a short rest, I mount Athena again and we are off. As we soar beneath the stars, the gentle notes of “Pachabel’s Canon” drift lazily below me. I look down and see that there is a concert on the lawn of the museum. This is one of my favorite pieces of music, and hearing it played live is a special treat. I guide Athena down behind the museum and together we sit and listen to the beautiful notes hanging in the still night air. Even though I have no saddle, the feathers of Athena’s furled wings feel so soft and comfortable that I feel as if I am sitting on a down comforter. When the last note has been played and the concert is over, I turn Athena around and we run again. I am reminded once more of how much I love the way it feels when she finally lifts off. Her speed creates a wind that ruffles my hair and lifts the mane off her neck. It makes the feathers dance on her wings. As she flies, the beating of her wings makes a comforting sound similar to the sound made by my mother’s sheets, snapping on the clothesline on a windy afternoon. I feel as if I could fly forever. I wish that everyone could see her, she is so beautiful as she flies, but I know that this secret must be mine alone. I shudder when I think of what might happen if people knew that she existed. She might be taken or stolen from me. My parents might decide that it is too dangerous for me to fly. Someone might kill her, just because she’s different. Even if none of that happened, publicity could be the end of all that we love. There would never be quiet times again for us to just fly silently through the darkness; under a canopy of glowing stars… enjoying ourselves and all the night has to offer. As we fly, I look down at my watch and realize that it is
Fantasy
To Kill a Unicorn
Our small hunting party trotted silently along the woodland path, searching for the white ghost of the forest. We knew the unicorn’s weakness now. An old enchanter, passing by my father’s castle, had said that a maiden fair of face could trap a unicorn with a golden bridle. We were taking along Jan younger sister, Francesca, for that job. The party was speeding up, making its way quicker now, for we were few. Francesca and her father, who was the Earl of Keshry, Jonathan the dog-keeper and his three finest hounds, me, and my own father. Francesca rode behind the Earl on his gray charger, while I had my own horse: a rather slow brown mare. Jonathan walked, holding the dogs’ taut leashes, and Father brought up the rear on a fine black stallion. I looked around, taking in the forest scenery, and knowing that a unicorn would have trouble hiding its snowy fur among the trees. Suddenly, the dogs stiffened and began to bay, nearly startling me off of my horse. “They’ve scented the creature,” muttered Father to Jonathan. “Quiet them now. They’ll frighten it deeper into the woods.” He turned on his horse to face me. “Matthew, take Francesca into the meadow, then come back to us. We’ll wait in the trees until the unicorn is trapped, then Jonathan will let loose the dogs to keep it in place until we get there. Understood?” I nodded. Father tossed me the heavy golden bridle. Then the Earl let Francesca down off his horse, and I helped her onto mine. She raised a hand in farewell at the remainder of our hunting party, then we disappeared into the trees. I knew the way to the meadow, so it was very easy to let my mind wander from guiding my horse. It had been about two minutes riding, before a voice broke the silence. Had I really set out with a will to murder the rarest animal in the forest? “Do you really think I should do it?” I was surprised to hear Francesca’s question. “Do what?” I asked, looking sideways at her serious face. “You know, catch this unicorn. They’ve always sounded so noble to me, and I don’t think I want to help kill one.” I started to reply, but the trees ended and we were in the meadow. I let Francesca down without answering, and began to turn my horse, but she hissed, “The golden bridle, Matthew!” Uh-oh. I retrieved the bridle from my saddle and handed it down. Then I nudged my brown mare and backed into the forest again. Once hidden behind a sufficient number of trees, I turned to watch. Time passed. I had long since picked out Father’s hiding place, and also that of the Earl. The unicorn had not come yet. How long would we wait? My horse stomped her feet and whinnied softly, and I rubbed my hand along her velvety muzzle. “Shhh, girl. Quiet now,” I murmured. She didn’t understand why we were to stand here for hours on end. Come to think of it, I didn’t really get it either. All this fuss and bluster, for the sake of killing a rare and beautiful animal. Then suddenly—Oh, my. I saw it. The unicorn stepped from the forest, shedding bits of leaves and thorns. Its long horn glistened as though polished to a shine. I saw at once why many men chased after it— the creature was so wondrous. Francesca looked up sharply I could see her hands trembling, clenched around the golden strands of the bridle. The unicorn warily turned its head in my direction, and I almost met its deep brown gaze. But, the thought of looking into the eyes of something you are about to help to kill— I quickly glanced down at the ground. It can’t see you, Matthew. Don’t worry about it. The white apparition trotted to stand in front of Francesca, and lowered its head. My heart was pounding, and I watched as the girl reached up and placed a hand on the unicorn’s mane. Would Francesca be able to do it? Her other hand still held the bridle. The Earl, I saw, was waving impatiently at his daughter, sending a silent message. The bridle! Now! My horse had stopped moving, and stared at the unicorn with simple wonder. I was staring just as wondrously, struck by the sudden thought that Father and the Earl were going to kill it. Francesca grabbed the golden bridle in both hands. She began to bring it up towards the creature’s head; I heard the Earl give a quiet chuckle of delight, but I couldn’t bring myself to be triumphant. Had I really set out with a will to murder the rarest animal in the forest? I wanted to tell myself no, I hadn’t, but I wasn’t sure. At least now I was of a clear conscience. The unicorn wouldn’t die by my hands, I swore silently Father’s face, half hidden in shadow where he was concealed, was smiling, the smile of the hunter who has his prey in an inescapable trap. But no! The unicorn wheeled and ran suddenly, leaving Francesca to sink to the ground. She had whispered something in the creature’s ear, I was sure of it, told it that it would die if it stayed. With a cry, the Earl signaled to Jonathan to release the dogs. My heart, which had risen so suddenly, plummeted again. The hounds would catch the unicorn, bring it down in a bloody scene of horror. The Earl signaled again, but Jonathan hadn’t let go of the leashes. He held them in a white-knuckled grip, his face stony “Jonathan!” Father snapped. “We’re losing time!” The dog-keeper shook his head, slowly walking back to stand beside me. “M’lords, face it,” he said softly, “none of us can kill a unicorn.” He gestured at Francesca, on her knees in the meadow; to me, leaning against an elm tree for support;
The Faerie Circle
Ariel woke up at 11:55 PM. She tossed off her blanket, stood up and tied her favorite silver sweater around her waist. Silently, like a ghost, she slipped out the door and walked down the hallway She could hear her sister Sophie breathing as she walked past her room. Down the stairs, skip the creaky third step, past the dining table, jump over Fluffy the greyhound (Sophie picked the name when she was six), and out the den door. Ariel didn’t know where she was going, or why she was going there, but it felt… right. It felt like there was something she needed to do. Moonlight poured down on the figure moving silently across the dew-covered lawn. Ariel knew this path by heart. She and Sophie went there years ago to play faeries, but they stopped when Ariel entered middle school. Now, as a seventh grader, she didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed to be visiting one of her childhood haunts. As Ariel’s bare foot stepped into the moonlit clearing, she felt a thrum of… joy? Power? Memories? It felt like someone was watching her. She glanced up at the moon and, as she always felt when she looked up at the sky, was awed by the great white disk sending down rays of milk-white light like so many chords of music. Ariel slowly sat down across the clearing from the Faerie Circle that she and Sophie had played in. The ring of daisies never grew over, and the delicate white blooms always grew back whenever Sophie and Ariel had picked the flowers. Now the daisies were splashed lilac with moonbeams. Ariel sat and waited for Them. She had never seen Them before, but she knew that tonight was the night. They didn’t let just anyone see Them. Slowly, the Faeries appeared and sat on the daisies in the circle like chairs Ariel glanced at her watch, pushing long black hair from her eyes. 11:58. Ariel shifted and promptly sat in a small puddle of water. It had rained during the day and the ground had little wet patches all over. Ariel peered into the shining liquid and saw her reflection—a thin pale girl with large violet eyes staring back at her. Ariel sat back and sighed. She wished her dark hair, now tipped with water, was capable of doing something other than just hanging straight around her face. And then she heard it. Or, rather, she didn’t hear it. Everything went silent. Ariel looked at her wrist again. Beep. 12:00. Midnight. Sparkling points of light poured by the dozens from the grand old oak tree at the edge of the clearing. Slowly, the Faeries appeared and sat on the daisies in the circle like chairs. Ariel could hardly breathe. The Faeries either didn’t notice her or ignored her. They were indescribable in human words. Each three-inch-tall Faerie had a shimmering dress in a color we do not have a name for. As the Queen sat down, her sheet of red corkscrew curls fanned out in an invisible breeze. Then the Faeries slowly unfolded their wings, leapt into the air, and started to dance. Suddenly, they started to sing. The mixture of the Faeries’ dance and their singing, so like angels’ voices, was… incredible. It was moonbeams, light, the sun, stars, the four elements—water, fire, wind, and earth. It was rainbows and poetry. It was more than all of that. It was Magic. Pure and indescribable Magic. It felt like they danced for years, but finally, they drifted back down to the Faerie Circle. Ariel was shaken out of her trance as each Faerie picked her daisy, and they arranged them in a pattern on the dirt. The Queen took her own beautiful daisy and placed it in the pattern, then made a call, like a bird, to the other Faeries. Ariel held her breath. It was over. The shimmering Faeries flew back as softly as they had come—little orbs of shining light—and that is when Ariel dared to move. She looked at her watch. Beep. 1:00. Suddenly curious, she moved to a standing position to look at the pattern the Faeries had created. Her eyes widened when she saw her name, Ariel, spelled out in daisies, with the Queen’s own pulsing daisy for the dot on the i. A breeze swept over Ariel’s arms as she bent to pick up the Queen’s daisy As she watched, the daisy disappeared, and in its place lay a gold chain with a pulsing, glowing, shimmering, iridescent pendant. The pendant was a capital F with Faerie wings. Ariel sighed with joy. She had watched the Faeries dance at midnight on the full moon. She had been accepted. She was one of Them now. Alana Yang, 12Santa Rosa, California Susannah Benjamin, 13Greenwich, Connecticut