Thursday, July 21, 2011

a story about a unicorn on my blog

For my sister's golden birthday (even though she lied to me and told me it wasn't her golden birthday):

Once upon a time (21 July 1990, to be precise) a mommy unicorn named Sirena gave birth to twins, Malina and Petra. Both her unicorn foals were up and walking within minutes of their arrival. Despite their healthy and strong statures, Sirena looked down at her newly birthed babies in horror. She wasn't dismayed by the remnants of blood upon their bodies. That was nothing, really. What Sirena saw, and didn't see, shocked her beyond anything she'd previously experienced (which is quite a lot, you know, because unicorns lead very fanciful lives). What did she see?

Malina sported two horns while Petra lacked any horn at all.

"What's wrong Mommy?" the two-horned unicorn questioned.

Sirena couldn't even come up with a reply. She sighed. She snorted. She shook her mane in disbelief.

"I know what's wrong," Petra piped up, "You got my horn."

"You got my horn," she repeated, "And I want it back."

Petra reared back and readied to charge. Malina stood there confusedly. Sirena said, "Wait! That won't fix anything. You'll put two holes in your head and won't be any nearer having a horn."
But Petra couldn't wait. She couldn't rationalize. The newest unicorn on earth wanted her horn and she wanted it badly. She whinnied and charged. Malina stood with glazed-over eyes and made no motion to move. As Petra approached and was within inches of her, Malina flapped her wings (what? You think unicorns are wingless? Well, some are, but not Malina.). Anyway, back to the story. Malina flapped her wings and jumped up and out of the way just in time to avoid colliding with Petra.

Petra wheeled around, even more angry and frustrated, "Give me my horn!"

Malina didn't even pay her a glance; she came down from her burst of flight back to the ground. As soon as she touched down, she broke into a run and sprinted towards the nearest tree. Faster and faster she sped. She didn't slow down at all, not even as she bore her head down towards the tree's trunk.

After the impact, Malina crumpled to the meadowy earth.

"She's bleeding, Mom!" Petra cried.

"She'll be ok. You don't know this yet because you're only 14 minutes old, but unicorns heal more quickly than any beast of the forest," Sirena said, "And look what she left for you."

Petra looked at the tree and embedded into it was one of Malina's horns.

"What do I do?" Petra asked.

"Go over to it," Malina said weakly as she struggled to get back on her feet.

"Go over to it and just see what happens."

Petra shuffled over to the tree, sniffed the broken-off horn, touched her nose to it and then her forehead. When she lifted her head away from the tree, she saw the horn was gone. Cross-eyed, she peered at the new sight before her--her very own horn.

In a sing-songy voice, Petra rejoiced, "Thank you, Malina! Thank you and happy birthday!"

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


Papi invited me over for his patch's semi-weekly raspberry picking. Me oh my did I get us some beautifully big raspberries. It was worth getting out of bed at 5:30. So worth it. I'm going to be adventurous and try my hand at jam tomorrow or Thursday. It will be my first time doing it NOT in Dad's kitchen (read: without his vast canning wisdom). I'm nervous but excited--feeling like one more part of me will be a little bit more grown up.

a sequence

29 June
Eamon and Finley