The Last Unicorns

Not so long ago, and not all that far away, on a rather smallish island, set quietly in the corner of an emerald sea, the last unicorns talked softly among themselves.
“Something,” said one, “must be done.” And he stamped his foot and shook his silvery head.

“Something, or we may soon be gone completely. And I, for one, do not like that idea one bit.”

And the second snorted. “Just what do you suggest? We have very little choice in the matter, it would seem.”

“It is obvious,” said the first slowly, “that we cannot continue as we are, There’s simply no future in it. Times have changed. We must change too. We cannot continue to live as in the past.”

“On the other hand, can we live in the future? I mean, as we are? We all know that virgins are getting harder and harder to come by these days, and what’s a unicorn to do, without a virgin’s lap?”

“And this horn has become a nuisance. The water is so polluted that even the magic of a unicorn’s horn cannot purify it. And besides, without the occasional dragon to fend off… why, I don’t think I’ve used my horn for –oh let me see — it must be two centuries or so.”

“So, are we agreed? We change, somehow, to better accommodate the times?”

“Yes, Yes, Yes.”

“And now, all we need to do is decide just how.”

“Well, I vote that the horn goes right off. The sleek look is very popular these days, I believe.”

“And I suggest that we sort of, you know, shrink some. Economize, so to speak .. rather fancy being more manageable size.”

“And while we’re at it, couldn’t we do with a bit more in the way of a fur coat? After all, it does get cold and damp these days.”

And so they talked, far into the misty night, and finally toward dawn, they went to find a mermaid, who was, among other things, quite an accomplished artist, and who readily agreed to put together a sketch for them to work their magic ways from.


© Cynthia Mahigian Moorhead. Artwork adapted for the Web by Glenn Short.