by Peter Harris
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ said dad. The bonnet was steaming in the rain that pelted down. Everyone breathed heavily in the sudden silence, then both Shelley and Mark began to shout at once.
But a moment later dad saw the white unicorn. He silenced them with a quick motion of his hand as he stared out the window in horror.
‘Nobody move or open any doors. Mark, get down on the floor, NOW!’ He reached over and pushed Mark down, ignoring his protests. Then he too cowered down, looking as if he had seen a ghost. But Shelley hardly heard him. As if in a dream – though the most real dream she had ever had – she picked up the leaf (which she had dropped during dad’s outburst) opened the door and began walking towards the unicorn, which had come to within a few metres of the car and was looking straight at her. She held out the leaf to it, and it whinnied, as if it knew…
She heard dad calling after her in an odd-sounding voice, as if he was trying to whisper and yell at the same time, ‘Wait! Shelley! No! Drop that leaf! Come back! You don’t know what you’re doing!’ She turned to look. Mum was staring from the back window, motioning to her to go. Shelley felt a sudden huge irrational bond with her mother that leapt crazily over all the negative feelings. Her mother understood! Maybe she really was mad, but she didn’t care; she believed her mother knew this was ok… She waved goodbye, then turned and climbed the fence. As she walked towards the beautiful apparition before her, she heard its breath, saw the mist coming from the wide nostrils, felt the silent command:
‘Come!’
Up into the windswept paddock he led her. She glanced back; the car had faded from view completely, as if they had passed into a different Silverwood, a dream Silverwood. Higher and higher the unicorn led her, until they saw the rain below them and the sun shining on the wet leaves of the forest. The unicorn leapt the fence where the sign said ‘Fairyhill Reserve. No shooting.’ She climbed the stile, dried her glasses on a dry part of her t-shirt, and followed the magical creature into the trees. It was waiting for her in a clearing with a large mossy stone in the middle, and big trees all around. There was no sound but the steady dripping of raindrops from the wet leaves.
Now she somehow knew something really scary was going to happen. Her heart was pounding. The unicorn stood, waiting for her to catch her breath. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do. She reached up with a trembling hand, grabbed hold of the shining mane, and jumping as high as she could, managed to swing up onto his great back, still damp and steaming from the rain. His coat was silvery, silky smooth, and smelled reassuringly like a horse’s hair in the rain – like her grandfather’s pony had smelt. But this was no safe little amble down a farm track…
Rearing high, the white unicorn leaped with awesome power out of the clearing into a silent night sky filled with millions of diamond-bright stars. She clung on to the mane for dear life, still holding the leaf, as if it was a ticket. For a moment she felt they were falling; then she realised they were now gliding weightless, the unicorn’s head tossing, his horn brilliant white mother-of-pearl with rainbow hues against the gem-studded blackness of space. For an unforgettable second there was a great silent immensity all around her. Then they really were falling. Then the glorious warmth of golden sunlight enveloped her as she landed lightly on a rocky ledge overlooking a slope which ran down to a dusty reddish road. The unicorn had vanished. Stumbling forward as she regained her balance, she stopped, inches from the edge. The dream-like feeling had gone; this was hard reality again. But where on earth was she? She dropped the leaf, adjusted her glasses and looked around, her heart beating faster than ever, but now less from fear than a kind of wild joy.