Why Unicorns?

A good question. I don't know why I decided to write this about unicorns. This was written back when I thought I wanted to be a writer, and I was writing down all sorts of strange things. I think I just used all of the forms of the verb "write." Oh, wait, I missed one. So here's what I wrote.

Unicorns are, at their essence, quite grumpy creatures. You didn't know? Oh, I see. You've been put under the assumption that unicorns are grand, mysterious animals of a noble quality. Which they are, I suppose. A more apt description of a unicorn's character would be as follows: aloof, touchy, easily angered and offended, and just plain grumpy. And why not? If you had crowds of people constantly barging in on you at breakfast, lunch, or any other conceivable meal to "ooh" and "ahh" and point and stare or, much worse, try to saw your one and only horn off (it has healing properties, you know) wouldn't you be a bit on edge? Wouldn't you go to length to avoid those staring, unbearably intrusive crowds of people? Wouldn't you feel the least bit upset if, despite your best efforts, one of these crowds did manage to find you?
So we see that that the tales of the unicorn's majestic, enigmatic nature all derive from the beast's desire to avoid human contact. Or any type of contact for that matter. They just want to be left alone. I don't think that this was always the case, however. I have heard that there was a time when unicorns were positively gregarious. This, or course, was before humans came into the picture, and there really wasn't anyone else for unicorns to be gregarious to except other unicorns. I mean, there was the occasional satyr, centaur, or dragon (and these last were very occasional indeed) but back in those times most creatures kept themselves to themselves.
Gorfund was one such creature, a unicorn as I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to learn. Gorfund was as normal and average a young unicorn as you could possibly imagine. He had a glossy, white coat, glossy black eyes, and fine matching glossy gold hooves...


Of this tale, Dodger wrote no more.

A River With No Bridge

Those who reach for the stars most often receive naught but burned fingers for their trouble. And these are the lucky ones. Let us never forget the fact that stars are very, very far away, so it is a rare few indeed whose reach extends to the point of singed appendages. In light of this, is it even worth it to try? What would you want with a star anyways? What would you do if you reached one? Would you engage the star in polite conversation, or invite it to dinner or something? No. You would be too busy melting into your constituent elements. For let us never forget the fact that stars are very, very hot.
You really do not have much to offer a star. I doubt one would find you very entertaining. This is, of course, assuming that the star even notices that you are there. It is a fact that we should never forget that stars are very, very big. You are very small (regardless of how big you might consider yourself compared to other humans, you could take comfort in the thought that on the stellar scale, none of us nudge the needle past zero).
But whatever would you talk with the star about? "So, what color is your corona? Oh...you don't have a corona. Well, does your magnetic field ever feel like it's just not performing like it should? You don't have one of those either? ....So I guess there's no point asking how much gravitational force you exert, is there?" Not a very interesting conversation on the star's part. Your situations in life are too different.
Stars need other stars to give them what they need. You know, to hang out with and orbit and form constellations and explode in fantastic displays of fiery nuclear death. Star stuff. You can't give any of that to a star. Why reach? Burn your fingers on something nearer home.

Oh Really?

A word once spoken to the wind,
It is gone.
Do not strive to take it back.
Do not reach for it.
It has gone; it is fluid now,
And it will run through your hands like water.
The echoes, the ripples it leaves behind will sing through your mind,
But the word is gone.
Can you take a drop from the sea?
Can you sift a breath from the wind?
Can you bring back a word once spoken?