Young Writers Society

His music is calling me, inviting me closer, as it did those many years ago. He cannot see me as I hide, across the street from him, lost in the crowds flowing up and down the sidewalk. He sits on the bus stop bench, his guitar on his leg and a battered ball cap beside him. It contains a few crumpled dollar bills. His face is more careworn that it had been before, with leathery skin and wrinkles beginning to cross his still-young face. It is beautiful. I study every detail, savoring the way his eyes are closed as he plays and the way his mouth barely moves as he sings the words to his song. I remember his voice: deep and velvety. I smile gently as I watch him. He is lost in oblivion.

Although I am so far away, I can see that he is wearing a necklace; its bright surface reflecting even the little sunlight that peeps through the gray clouds. It is a pendant of a unicorn; a dainty thing that looks as though it should belong to a woman. The sight sends thrills down my spine and through my stomach. He had been thinking of me when he bought it. I know it.

I want to go to him, to reveal myself after such a long time. But he wouldn’t recognize me now, I know it. Not in this new body of mine. He would look right past me. I am glad of the traffic separating us. It conceals me from him, so I cannot see a dismissing look in his eyes if he were to look at me. His eyes would see a slight woman, standing forlornly among the crowd. But it would not matter to him and his gaze would continue on its way without recognition. But hiding is just as painful. I want him to see me, to know who I am.

Finally I am working up the courage to go to him. I wait nervously for the light to change so I can cross the street before I change my mind. I scurry over the crosswalk as soon as the green appears. I approach him quickly but nervously. Then I stop at the sight before me.

A woman walks up from behind the bench and sits next to him. She leans over the kiss him, her tongue flickering into his mouth for a brief moment. He rests his hand on her knee, sliding it up to her shapely thigh as he returns her kiss. Her red hair falls like a curtain over their joined faces, hiding them from my view.

I cannot help it; tears well up in my eyes. I fight the urge to cry, but my resistance is swiftly overwhelmed. I turn and run in the opposite direction, my arm covering my eyes as my chest heaves with sobs. I run into someone, feel a hand catching my arm to keep me from falling, and hear a concerned voice, but it does not matter to me. I pull away and continue running, tears flowing freely down my cheeks.

When at last the eye water dries up, I begin to burn with red anger. How dare she seduce him like that? Bewitch him away from me? My veins swell as my heart quickens from bloodlust. I will get him back. I am not going to let him forget that quickly, that easily. He is mine and mine alone. I walk down the sidewalks, past the tall, shadowy buildings. It is dark on the street and I am alone. Damn her.

***

He is sitting under the same tree in the park that he had that first - that only - night we had been together. His guitar rests on his knee and he pulls a tune from the strings quietly. His music was how I had found him before. It was what had drawn me in before. Now it does again, under the same sky, with its bright moonlight.

The ecstasy that spreads across his face as he sees me lets loose cyclone of butterfly wings in my stomach. He recognizes me, now that I am truly me. I want to run to him, to bury my face in his chest, but I also want him to come to me. I want him to want me and to forget about that other in his eagerness to be with me. He sets down his guitar and runs towards me, his entire body moving in a lithe, cat-like motion.

When he reaches me, his hands cup my jaw, drawing my face up to his. He kisses my nose, then my forehead. He runs his fingers through my hair, brushing it from my face. He traces my ears with a fingertip. Then he clasps me by the neck and pulls me to him in a hard, desperate embrace. I close my eyes and lay

my head comfortably on his shoulder, letting the air whiffle through my nostrils as I sigh contentedly.

We lie together, his head against my chest and my nose pressed to his long, sweet-smelling hair and look up at the stars. The night is clear and the moon illuminates the land almost as if it were daylight. My hair gleams in the silver light and his pendant, nesting in the hollow of his throat, glows as if lit from within. But somehow the moment feels wrong, as if polluted by something. It is invisible, untouchable, but it is there.

Then it dawns on me. He is no longer pure! I sit up sharply, looking down at him in scorn. He seems to know my thoughts without my ever having to utter a word.

“No, I’m not a virgin anymore.”

I snort contemptuously and glare at him. He threw away his purity to that woman? As I think of her, my blood boils in my veins. He strokes my cheek, trying to soothe me. His voice is gentle as he speaks.

“We can’t be together,” he is saying. “We’re incompatible. We would never truly be one.”

My heart freezes as he speaks these words. Does it matter that my body could not conform to his? And it is not permanently so. Come dawn, I will be entirely different. But that his affection rests on such a physical thing cuts right to the core of my being. So he would choose another woman over me simply because she could provide him with physical pleasure? He would give up love for something like that?

“It will never be right between us.” He continues to stroke my cheek, then gently rubs his fingers up and down from my forehead to my nose.

I stand, my hooves stamping heavily on the ground. I cannot listen to anymore. Ignoring his pleas for me to stay, I turn and run to the woods surrounding the park. I lose myself in the trees, weaving between the shadowy forms until I fall down from sheer exhaustion. I cry until my eyes are dry, then lie miserably in the dark, waiting for the sun to rise. I know what I will do. I will get him back.

***

The woman’s red hair is hard to lose in the crowd of dull grays and blacks of well-pressed business suits. It bounces slightly as she walks, her hips swaying attractively. My own silver-blonde hair hangs flat down my back, with thin braids dispersed randomly through it. My body barely moves as I walk behind her. Would he find that unattractive? It is disgusting that he fell for a woman only for her sex appeal. It is not true love. I cast the thought away. It is not her fault. It is hers. She had cast some sort of spell on him. It is the only explanation.

She turns into an office building, her stiletto heels clicking on the tile floor of the entrance hall. The sound echoes off the high ceilings. I catch up to her as she pushes the button for the elevator. She holds the door open for me. I do not thank her. I am not going to be distracted from my goal by that nominal act of kindness. Her sin is too great to be redeemed by such a trivial thing. The elevator doors close with a muffled rumble.

It is difficult to change into my other form when it is not time, but my hate and determination to kill this woman makes it easier. I barely fit in the elevator now, but I am smaller than most people think I am. I have enough room to lower my head and plunge my weapon into her chest. I feel her heart pop instantly. A trickle of blood runs from her mouth and she stares at me through the vacant eyes. She dies without a sound, slipping off of the lance that had pierced her.

I change back and wipe the spot of blood away from her forehead where my single curved horn had melted back into my skin. I stretch uncomfortably. My joints ache from their shifting and I am tired by the effort, but I am satisfied. The deed is done. Nothing stands between him and me now. I press a button on the panel. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. The hall beyond is empty. I cross to another elevator and press the button to go down.

***

He stares at me in horror. My worst fears have been realized. He does not recognize me in this false form. I have told him who I am, shown him my changes. But he still does not believe me. Despair weighs like a stone in my chest.

“It… I don’t…” He cannot form a sentence. His mouth opens and closes like a fish’s under water. I study him, pleading with my eyes. But he does not seem to notice, too caught up in shock.

“She and I were engaged,” he finally blurts out.

Not any more they aren’t, I think smugly. He sees the cold smile that spreads across my face. His eyes grow wide with fear and realization.

“No! What have you done to her!?”

Removed the barrier between us. That’s what I have done.

“You’ve killed her, haven’t you?” His voice is breaking. I do not respond. His reaction is all wrong. He is supposed to realize that his fears about our future were unwarranted. He is supposed to be glad that there is no obstacle between us now. But instead, he is growing angry.

“I can see now who you really are! You’re a murderer. The old stories were right about the unicorn’s vicious nature, you jealous bitch! I didn’t want to believe it. But now I do.”

I stare at him, tears welling in my eyes. But they are tears of anger. He had been tricking me all along, lying about loving me. The bastard. He grabs me by the shoulders.

“I hate you.”

His voice is barely more than a whisper but it echoes in my ears as though he had shouted it. I do not hesitate, do not stop to think about what I am about to do. My change is swift and his death is swifter. The hot blood runs down from the gaping hole in his throat.

I change back and grab his shoulders before he falls. I kiss him viciously on the mouth, then shove him to the ground and kick him as hard as I can. The blood gurgles a little as it bubbles from his throat. The pendant is stained crimson. I reach down and pull it from his neck. I wipe it clean on his shirt and clasp it around my own neck. It feels heavy for such a small object; it pulls at the back of my neck.

I wipe the red from my brow, staining my hand, and walk away.

***

The toasters and blenders sit in their boxes, set in neat rows along the shelves. Trays of silverware and racks of dishrags surround me. I wander up and down, looking for the right aisle. Finally, I find it.

The box opens easily. I reach inside and pull out its contents. I study the object. I can see my reflection in it, my eyes puffy from crying. No wonder he hated me. This twisted form would disgust anyone. Damn the curse that had ruined my perfect form, had made me change from human to unicorn with the sun’s rising and falling.

I press the knife to my left breast and jerk it towards myself as hard as I can. It slides in easily. Suddenly I cannot breathe. I must have pierced a lung. I draw the blade out and drive it in again, a little lower. This time it slides into my heart; I can feel the muscle’s steady flexing pulling and pushing at the knife.

The darkness takes a long time to come. I wait patiently, clutching the pendant in a bloody hand. I let out a gentle sigh as it finally begins to creep into my vision. Just before my eyelids fall in eternal sleep, I see the pendant: silver against red. The delicate unicorn is slowly dissolving as it touches my blood. It doesn’t matter anymore. Soon I will be with him, and there will be no more hate. It will be perfect.

--

I wrote this a while ago as something to be submitted to an anthology, but nothing ever came of it. It's short, but it's how I meant it to be. I'd love people's thoughts on it.