A Unicorn in a Storm
A Merrows Moon Academy Entry
Surprise post! Here is my submission for the Merrows' Moon Academy monthly prompt. This month’s prompts were "Unicorns”, “Santa”, and “Snow”. I wrote this one rather quickly and haven’t had much opportunity to edit or record a voiceover. Please excuse typos, etc.
It was a dreary, rough day for me - and taking an evening to write about a bitchy unicorn helped. I hope you enjoy this a little bit too.
A Unicorn in a Storm
“You can’t do this to me! I am a unicorn. Unicorns do not go to jail! I’m going to sue the bells off you! You’ll regret this!” Natalie rattled her horn against the cell bars before screaming in frustration and stomping her hooves.
“‘First time?” A small, bare chested, pot-bellied satyr looking creature was slouching on a low bench. He picked at his teeth as he looked at her.
She turned her nose into the air. She might have been locked into this dump, but she wasn’t going to lower herself to talk to a grubby little half man in a jail cell. His chest was too shiny, and his horns curved in a way that was practically obscene.
He was probably in here for something indecent.
“Never met a Krampelf before, huh?” He slid off the bench, his hooves clattering as he stretched on the floor. “The name’s Bob.”
She pointedly looked away.
“Listen, Natalie. You could have it a lot worse.” Bob drawled as he conjured a deck of cards and began a game of solitaire, “You could have been put into the Naughty jurisdiction’s holding cells.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I’m part Krampus, I know everything about you, Natalie.” Bob’s eyes never left his cards. “I know that you’re secretly jealous of reindeer, I know you’re the one that peed on the snow art installation outside of the snowflake factory. Oh, and I know that you’re the one that wrote ‘bum-hole’ in the snow outside of Santa’s stables last year. And that the only thing you ever wanted when you were a colt was to get to be the star on top of the tree, just once.”
She tried to keep her expression neutral. She had done those things. But she didn’t need to let him know that. Her throat felt tight.
It had been a long time since she’d thought about being a Christmas star.
-
“Natalie Nice. You are hereby charged with one count of intention to commit minor naughtiness, one count of potty mouth, and three counts of disturbing the peace. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty! I am innocent, Santa!” Natalie sputtered, “Your elves should be out there arresting actual criminals! This is unacceptable.”
“That will be quite enough Ms. Nice.” Santa lifted his glasses and rubbed his face wearily before muttering, “I don’t have time for this.”
Natalie seethed as Santa reviewed the papers in front of him. He opened another file and tilted his head. “Bailiff, bring me the next docket.”
Bob strolled into the courtroom without a care in the world. He hopped up on a small stool placed in front of the stand.
“Sup, Uncle Nick.”
“Again, with the yetis? Really?”
The Krampelf shrugged.
Santa wagged his finger at Bob. “Bauble Pintinsel, your mischief has been getting far too close to naughty for far too long.”
“Bauble?” Natalie muttered and Bob shot her a dark look.
“Natalie Nice, you are sentenced to one tour in the 4th Snowglobe.”
The gasp from Bob startled Natalie.
“Something wrong, Bauble?” Santa raised his eyebrows. “Bauble Pintinsel, you are sentenced to community service. This will be served in the method of tour guide to Ms. Nice.”
“What?” Bob shrieked, “Why do I have to go with her?
Santa shrugged before he flipped the files closed.
“Instead, I could just declare you both officially naughty and you’ll progress to your mother’s jurisdiction of Naughty in Krampus Court.”
“Uncle Nick, come on. You know I’m not actually a Naughty.”
“It’s Santa Claus in this room, Bauble.” He flipped the files closed and stood up. “If you’re not a Naughty, you should stop acting like you are.”
-
“Stay close.” Bob called over his shoulder. “It’s easy to get lost down here.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s the Christmas Penitence Department.” They passed a door and Natalie felt a cold draft wash over her hooves.
“What’s behind these doors?”
“Different punishments. You’ve got your standard Scroogings, your Grinchenings, Otterings, Buble-ing, Ralphieing.” Bob pointed at different doors as they continued walking. “Down there is your Gruberings, Mogwaiifications, Ewoking…”
“What is that awful smell?”
“Oh, that?” Bob sniffed, “That would be a Cousin Eddying.”
The stench of sewer gas was nearly overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the sound that assaulted her ears next.
“Oh, my snowflakes!”
Bob sucked his teeth.
“There must be a McCartneying going on. Wonder what the poor sod did to deserve that?”
Natalie felt a shudder running from her hooves all the way through to her horn. She stepped closer to Bob as they rushed past the awful sound.
-
“We’re here.”
Bob nodded at an elf sitting on a large stool and they hopped down from their perch and swiped a badge across keypad and entered a long code. Finally, with a loud beep and a heavy sounding click a set of double doors opens and Natalie followed Bob into a bunker so large that she couldn’t see how far it stretched to the other side. Quiet and dimly lit, four massive glass domes hung under spotlights in the room. Under each dome was a different coloured platform, all pleasantly lit.
Except for the last one.
That one had plain, grey steps and the light above it kept buzzing and flickering. The large number 4 was faded and the sign looked like it had never been replaced.
Bob gestured Natalie to the platform and she hesitantly climbed the stairs. As soon as they stepped inside the large, red circle there was a loud, industrial warning sound and a voice began to count down.
“SNOWGLOBE SEAL IN PROGRESS – PLATFORM FOUR. TEN - PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO LEAVE THE PLATFORM. NINE – PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH THE PLATFORM. EIGHT - PLEASE DO NOT LICK THE GLOBE. SEVEN – YOUR TONGUE WILL FREEZE TO THE GLASS. SIX – I REPEAT, PLEASE DO NOT LICK THE GLOBE. FIVE…”
The globe above them began to descend until it landed over the two of them with a loud thud.
“Stop! Stop!” A panicked elf was running towards them, their voice muffled through the glass. “You can’t put a unicorn in…”
The voice was drowned out as a fan whirred to life and the globe began to fill with snow. It swirled and swirled, filling the globe until Natalie couldn’t see anything.
Electrical shocks began to bounce between snowflakes as they swirled around them. The fresh smell of snow began to be overpowered with the stench of ozone as dark clouds started forming above their heads. Bob looked uneasy as the clouds grew bigger.
“This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.”
END
Isn’t it Romantic comes to you from Treaty 8 Territory, which since time immemorial, is the traditional and ancestral lands of the Cree, Dene, and the unceded territory of the Metis people. This land is beautiful, and I’m grateful to live in a part of the world where I’m surrounded by knowledge keepers and community that enable me to learn more about those that have gone before us and what they experienced and endured.
I am hopeful I can find meaningful and continued ways to contribute to the act of reconciliation and express gratitude for these peoples and their land.
this is so wonderfully creative, I’m immediately bought into the dynamic between Natalie and Bauble, I could picture it all so clearly.
this really got me: ““Different punishments. You’ve got your standard Scroogings, your Grinchenings, Otterings, Buble-ing, Ralphieing.” Bob pointed at different doors as they continued walking. “Down there is your Gruberings, Mogwaiifications, Ewoking…”
what happens next!!
“There must be a McCartneying going on. Wonder what the poor sod did to deserve that?” - 😂😂😂😂😂