The Talking Unicorn
Once upon a time, there was a young boy who worked for his dad on the farm. He milked cows; helped his daddy maintain the tractors; and even helped his mom in the kitchen when he was allowed. He worked until his youth, became a strong young man. His name was Paul, like the Biblical name.
One night Paul’s parents were sleeping, and he was deep in thought. Not yet 18, he knew he was going to be making some life-long decisions, soon. He was doing fine in high school – he was in the top 1/4 of his class during his junior year. Paul could not sleep, and it was a Friday night. He would not really have to wake up too early the next morning, and he did not really go out partying or anything. Paul decided to take a walk. After all, a full moon showed white like a sun one could gaze upon.
Paul left a note on his nightstand in case his parents woke up. It read, “I am gone for a walk, I will be back in a few hours – Paul, 9:42 PM.” He left their house and headed towards an old familiar trail in the woods. It lead to a clearing. The clearing used to be on his father’s property, however his dad sold that part of the woods to buy two more acres of farmland.
Paul had not been to “The Clearing” in quite some time. It was formed naturally from a small hill half of an acre from a creek. He made his way to it through the grown over brush, and sure enough, it was still there. Something else was there – a blue and purple campfire. Paul also saw an old bum in a pointed hat sitting by the fire, or so he thought. He walked over to the man and said, “Hello.”
“What are you doing on my ground?” asked the old man. “Breathing,” said Paul. He knew it was not his property, did not know his dad’s buddy like to dress up like some kind of a magical fairy man. “I did not mean to interrupt you, sir,” I will leave you be. “No, no,” said the white-haired wizard, Mr. Olens, “Have a seat here. I remember you, Paul.” “From when?” asked Paul, knowing that it had been a few years since the two had spoken. “The hardware store, two years ago,” said the wizard.
“That I do not recall,” said Paul, “Of course I bet you did not have on that hat.” “No, I did not,” said the wizard, “What brings you here?” “I do not know what I want to do when I graduate,” said Paul, “I can either go to school or stay and work on the farm. Even if I go to school I would come back and build a house in the same zip code. I would study business, religion, or agriculture, for myself or dad.” “Sounds like you already have it planned out,” said Mr. Olens. “Sure I do,” said Paul, “However I am still uncertain.” “Well,” said the wizard, “That is how life is – at least you will be able to do what you put your mind to.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, “So, what is with the outfit?” Mr. Olens said, “Little did you know, I happen to know some incantations, recipes, and a few other things about magic.” “What is with the fire?” asked Paul. “It is a blue and purple flame,” said the wizard, “I can do that with a spell my great-grandfather taught me.” “Are you not like 90?” asked the boy. “Sure,” said the wizard, “I am about five years shy of turning 100.” “Wow,” said Paul, “I remember the day dad and I saw you bail that field of hay by hand in the rain.” “Forget all of that,” said the wizard.
“So what all can you do?” asked Paul. “Oh I can cast a great many spells,” said the wizard. “Can you turn me into an animal?” asked Paul. “That is an easy one,” said Mr. Olens, “I can turn you into two at the same time.” “Wow,” said Paul, “What if I said, ‘Mr. Olens, you are a great and wise wizard, an appreciated man, and I want to become a beautifully handsome black stallion with one horn and able to fly with the huge wings of a condor for a whole hour?” Paul doubted the old man, forgetting that the blue flame burning in front of him was suspended above the ground with no fuel.
“Well then,” said Mr Olens, rising to his feet, “I would say…” The wizard raised his hands above the sitting young man high in the air, spread them apart spanning at least four feet to form a white glowing sphere-ball of magical light. The wizard exclaimed, “Condunistalker!” as he zapped the boy with a powerful beam of energy, and Paul stood there in front of the purplish flame as a handsome black unicorn with large and fitting condor wings. The new being was amazed. Paul said, “Can I fly?” The wizard laughed a little and said, “Well, for about an hour or so.”
Paul flew around the farm lands in the surrounding community in the bright moonlight for some time. He also galloped a bit along various old dirt roads, and flew back to the wizard. “I think you still have about ten minutes,” said Mr.Olens. “I am tired,” said the unicorn, and he sat down to watch the blueish fire blaze away. Paul faded back into a young man within ten minutes or so and thanked the old wizard. “Thank you,” said Paul. “Anytime,” said Mr. Olens, and Paul walked back home and went to bed happily.