STORIES OF THE UNICORNS BOOK ONE When God created the earth, he asked Adam in the Garden of Eden to name the animals. When Adam picked the unicorn to name first, God reached down and touched the unicorn’s horn. This is a sign that unicorns are blessed above all other creatures. —Nancy Hathaway, Unicorn Shelly looked longingly at the big jugs of water being sold in the shops scattered along the dusty street. “Hey, hey, hey, girlie! Get off’ the road! You’re blocking it with your over-large body!” The voice laughed heartily Shelly sighed. They were the rich boys and newspaper boys. Their favorite activity was to tease Shelly They were trying to provoke her to come and hit them. Then Shelly would be arrested and severely punished by the government. Shelly flicked her long, red, wavy hair out of her face. It fell far past her waist, and many folks thought it greatly needed cutting. Her big, green eyes swept the street floor, searching constantly for dropped or forgotten coins. The nine-year-old girl pushed her small body through the crowds. She desperately wished it was Christmas, her birthday It was the only day of the year when she allowed herself to buy a feast. The boys were partly right about her. Shelly was a beggar girl and was extremely scarce of money. The stream opened into a little pool. Curiously, it was silvery The cold evening wind blew her dress and hair. Shelly could see her wispy clouds of breath and decided to head back to her alleyway. When she at last reached her beloved alley, Shelly immediately curled up in her few blankets. One of them had been hers ever since she could remember. It was silvery blue with a single unicorn embroidered in the middle. The thick blanket felt a thousand times better than silk. Shelly wouldn’t, couldn’t ever part with it. Shelly wrapped herself in that special possession and the other thin brown sheets she owned. Her box stood overhead, weather-beaten and dirty. It was so large, Shelly was sure it once held a bed frame. An eventful sleep took over Shelly. First she dreamed she was walking in a field of unicorns. The earth turned blacker than black and colder than cold. A black-hooded figure loomed toward Shelly through the magnificently never-ending darkness. Shelly backed away and tripped over her own unsteady feet. The figure of darkness (at least that’s what Shelly thought it was) gracefully curved its body downward toward Shelly’s face. At that precise moment, the dreaming girl woke up, breathing hard and sweating. “It was just a dream,” she told herself firmly, “just an old dream. It’s not hurting anyone, and it’s not real.” Shelly tried to sound confident, but her voice trembled slightly. “Big sign of madness, talking to your own head,” stated a newspaper boy by the name of Frederick Afintger, who was passing. He smirked. Shelly ignored him. Dawn was Shelly’s favorite time of day. Most people were still snug in bed. No one shot insults at her, she was free of owners of stalls and shops shouting at her to get away from their selling areas. Shelly was sick of that. Now the girl grabbed the last of her bread loaf and headed for the stream. It was warm, especially for this time of day Shelly finally reached the cold, playful stream that flowed around the edge of the enchanted place, Magic Forest. The beggar girl took a long, refreshing drink from the creek. When Shelly finished munching on her bread loaf, she waded into the water. The deepest place reached up to her knees. Shelly stared absentmindedly at the horizon. The sun was still determined to climb over the mountain. The sun had almost accomplished that goal, which it repeated every morning. Shelly marched back to the bank and dried herself off. Suddenly, she glimpsed a flash of white in the trees. Shelly started. Then she saw it again, further this time. “Hello?” Shelly called out. “Anybody there?” No answer. Shelly entered the Magic Forest and sprinted toward the white. She ran until she could run no more. A stitch had arisen in Shelly’s side and her breathing was fast and hard. She had arrived in a clearing. A small, lush apple tree stood in the corner, its fruits swaying slightly in the breeze. The very same creek Shelly had earlier waded in flowed before her. The stream opened into a little pool. Curiously, it was silvery. It must come from here and go around the wood, Shelly thought to herself. Shelly sighed heavily for no particular reason and headed for the apple tree. She heard a hiss and tripped over a tree root, or she thought it was a tree root. Fangs sank into her leg and poison shot through her body. Hooves pounding like thunder, and everything went black. Everything was blurry and Shelly could hear a faint neighing sound. With difficulty, she sat up and slowly looked around. There, trotting along the path toward her, was a unicorn! He had a long, flowing, milky-white mane, tail, and forelock. His eyes were like crystals, glowing in the bright sunlight. His hooves were cloven like a goat, and the fur was silky. It was beautifully white. He came over to her. Shelly didn’t know how to feel. The unicorn started to speak in a strange language. Oddly, Shelly could understand it. “Hello, my name is Magic Star. What is your name?” the unicorn asked. Shelly replied shakily, “My name is Shelly. I am an orphan.” For a moment, Shelly thought she saw an excited look on Magic Star’s face. But when she blinked, it was once again replaced by a curious expression. “What happened to me? Are you really a unicorn? Why are you here? Where are we? Was that a snake? If it was, did you kill it? Do you live here? Is this forest dangerous? Why is that pool silvery…?” It all came
September/October 2007
Autumn
We see autumn As a blaze Of red leaves, falling leaf-shaped embers From the branch-lined sky, A blaze Of squirrels rushing, Geese hurrying, of motion, A blaze Of jack-o-lanterns. But around the jack-o-lanterns falls the night, Advancing slowly through the days, A black cat stalking the now-mouse-weak sun. Northern winds come Hand in hand with warm zephyrs Above the autumn’s thin skin of fire, Waltzing around each other; Summer to winter and back While below, Frost turns soil to stone, For hardy autumn-leaf mushrooms to stand brittle Like Medusa’s stare. Gabriel Wainio-Theberge,12Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
You Just Have to Trust Me
The first time I ever met Erica Stevens was in Miss Moore’s first-grade class at Thomas Grant Elementary. Erica had had a big first-grade crush on Tyler Applebaum, who sat across from Erica at their table. Of course, Erica, being the excessive talker that she was and still is today, chatted non-stop to poor Tyler every chance she got, whether it was during Miss Moore’s addition lesson or during D.E.A.R. time, which was supposed to be silent. Finally after a few weeks Miss Moore got fed up with Erica’s talking and just like every other teacher we have both had from first grade through now, she moved Erica’s seat. Guess where the chatterbox got moved to? That’s right, my table. Miss Moore had probably figured that since I was extremely shy and hardly ever said a word in class that Erica would have no one to talk to and that would be the end of Erica’s constant chatting. Boy, was Miss Moore wrong. As soon as she sat Erica down across from me, Erica stared at me with her beautiful baby-blue eyes and I stared at her back, chewing on one of my brown braids. Then, Erica uttered the first words she had ever said to me: “Hi, my name is Erica. Do you think Tyler is cute?” That was the start of our friendship. Erica’s talking was contagious and pretty soon I had “caught” it. We talked all the time in class, which led Miss Moore to move Erica yet again. But that didn’t stop us! The two of us were inseparable, and we did practically everything together. We went over each other’s houses almost every weekend, playing with Barbie and Ken dolls for hours at a time (Erica pretended that they were her and Tyler Applebaum). “Look,” she said, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it” Even though Erica and I were best friends, we were still complete opposites. I was unbearably shy around practically everyone but Erica and never talked that much. Erica was always bold, on the other hand, and would say anything that was on her mind. She would always jump off the park swing when it was at the very highest it could swing or would sled down a big, steep hill in the winter. Then she would call after me, “Now you try, Natasha!” “That’s all right,” I would say. “I might get hurt.” “No you won’t!” she would holler back. “You just have to trust me!” The years passed, and Erica and I went through so much together as best friends. We grew out of Barbie dolls and replaced them with CDs, makeup, and going to the movies. Sleepovers turned into giggle sessions complete with gossip about boys. But no matter how much we grew up, one thing seemed like it would never change: we would always stay best friends. However, when Erica and I started the seventh grade, things started to change. We weren’t in the same homeroom like we usually were, and we didn’t have the same classes. Erica started to become more popular. She always had a huge group of girls that would surround her every minute of the day, and it seemed like every boy in the grade wanted to eat lunch and hang out with Erica after school. Whenever I tried to talk to Erica, they would act like I wasn’t there and make me feel small. I made some new friends, and Erica and I didn’t hang out as much as we used to. We didn’t have our late-night phone calls anymore, and there were never any sleepovers either. I felt sad that we never saw each other anymore, but I knew I had to move on. The months passed, and before I knew it the seventh grade was over and summer vacation had arrived. I had always loved summer, mostly because there was no school and I could do whatever I wanted during the day. Erica and I used to get together almost every day during the summer, but I knew it would be different that year. One hot day in July my mom came in from outside where she had been gardening. She was holding a stack of envelopes and magazines in her hands. “Natasha, mail’s here,” she said. “Did I get anything?” I asked, putting down the Nancy Drew book that I had been reading on the couch. I hoped that the summer issue of Teen Wave had arrived. “You got a letter,” my mom replied, handing me a small, pink envelope with sparkly star stickers all over it. I ripped open the flap, eager to see if my grandmother who lived in Florida had sent me birthday money seven months early again. But it wasn’t money. It was an invitation to Erica Stevens’s boy-girl summer bash at her lake house. It was to be two weeks from Saturday. Mom peered over my shoulder and read the invitation, which had a picture of a smiling sun with sunglasses on it. “Erica’s having a party? That’s nice,” she said. “I haven’t seen Erica around here for awhile. Is everything all right between you two?” “Yeah, fine,” I replied absentmindedly, reading over the invitation again and again. Why would Erica invite me to her party? There would probably be all popular people there, and they would all make me feel so lame. Her mom probably just felt bad for me and made Erica invite me. That’s probably why she invited me. I sighed. It would be rude not to go after I was invited, so I might as well, even though Erica probably wouldn’t even notice I was there. * * * The day of Erica’s party arrived, and when I arrived at the lake house, I knew right away that this was a big bash. The house was a small but pretty cottage on a sandy beach that was right by the lake. Streamers ran all across
