I Love Unicorns

Veronica Santana

April 29, 2008

Creative Writing

I Love Unicorns

It was a day that started like any other, pogo sticking my way to school. I was running late and pogoing as fast as possible. I was making great time, only would have been twenty or so minutes late, when while passing by the town park I noticed something.

I spotted next to the tire swings, a unicorn. Part of me thought the unicorn was just a product of my sleep deprived state, and my pogo stick rattled brain. Yet the unicorn still remained near the tire swing as I stepped off my pogo stick watching it. This was not your run of the mill unicorn. It was the unicorn of my dreams, well, my childhood dreams. I don’t sit around think about unicorns all the time anymore, just some of the time.

The unicorn in question was pure white, with a rainbow colored mane and tail. A shimmering cloud seemed to surround the unicorn, and its horn glowed like a shining star. I decided I should go over to the unicorn. I figured I was already late to school, so why not? It’s not often that a mythical creature of fantasy is hanging out by the tire swings that used to give you motion sickness.

I walked slowly towards the unicorn, not wanting to scare it off or have it charge and gore me. My knowledge of unicorns painted them a pretty docile being, but all of the knowledge came from My Little Pony. As I crept towards the unicorn, hiding behind the occasional tree and slide, I remembered something from my childhood. I had seriously loved My Little Pony, it was my vice of choice as a five year old. I told my sister once that I often had dreams where our whole family was unicorns. She started crying and told my Dad to make me stop having these unicorn dreams. My Dad tried to explain that imaging us as unicorns wasn’t a mean undertaking. I didn’t get what the big deal was, who wouldn’t want to be a unicorn? She should have been thankful I included her. I should have made her an evil troll with hairy moles covering her face.

Anyways, back to the unicorn stalking. As I got several feet from the unicorn, it locked eyes with me. We had a minute stare down before it bolted for the woods. I, with my pogo stick in hand, ran after the unicorn. I don’t know exactly why, since what would I do tackle it? This rational thought did not enter my mind, so instead I kept running towards the wood, where the unicorn preceded to jump onto the gazebo to stand majestically. “Ill trade you the unicorn…for that,” said a little voice from behind me. Instead of being very scared by whoever snuck up behind me, I got this warm feeling inside. The same feeling I get when I watch Christmas movies and dance to a Platinum Christmas (a compilation of pop Christmas jamz).

I turned around and was not too surprised to see an elf, not a little person, a straight up Santa’s little helper looking elf. He was only about two feet tall with very point ears, and wearing a silvery cloak. The “that” the elf was referring to was my pogo stick. Apparently, the little guy wanted to barter.

“Okay.” I said, handing over the pogo stick. The little elf took my pogo stick with a big heart warming smile. I felt this urge to pinch his cheeks, but I figured he’d probably find that insulting. After giving the elf my pogo stick, the unicorn leapt from the gazebo to stand beside me. I hopped on and unicorn rided myself to school. As I looked backed I saw the elf bouncing his way, presumably, back to the North Pole. I was never late to school again and always found good parking.