February 22, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a unicorn. It can be realistic or fantastical. Go where the prompt leads.
Charli Mills is in fantasyland this week…
We’ve been there before, 5th June 2014 to be precise when I wrote this, maybe my fourth flash attempt at the Ranch
Dog days and Phoenix nights
It was morphogenesis; Milton was in flames but not in pain. Peter smiled. What next for the Staffie?
‘He’s smiling, Mum.’
‘It’s the sun. When they turn Grandpa to the window, it looks like he’s smiling.’ Mary slipped past the bleeping machines. ‘Here, I’ll move this.’
A horn grew from Milton’s head; Peter knew now. A unicorn. The flames engulfed the dog, leaving the horn pointing skywards. Peter felt happy at last.
‘There.’ Mary pulled the drip stand from the window so its shadow cut across Peter’s face. ‘I wish, he’d give us a sign.’
‘He’s peaceful, Mum.’
Charli has triggered unicorns before, you see, so what now, huh?
‘Do you think unicorns exist, Logan?’
‘No, they’re fantasy.’
‘Are you so sure?’
‘Course. There’s no evidence, Morgan. Can I watch the game?’
‘Why do you need evidence?’
‘Because you do. We’re rational beings…’
‘You believe in the atom yet you’ve not seen it.’
‘There’s evidence. Credible. Please let me watch.’
‘Seeing’s believing, eh?’
‘Is this about religion because we’re one nil up…’
‘This goes deeper that any debate on God’s existence.’
‘Yes, you believe, despite eons of evidence to the contrary that Palace will one day win something…’
‘Was that a unicorn? Or a pig?’