My Experimental Valentine | Allegory

If you’re looking for a sweet, heart-warming little love story to put you in the Valentine’s mood, or if you enjoy stories that end with Happily Ever After in general…this story is not for you.
It was a bit of an experiment back in the Fall of 2019—my first real attempt at allegory, the first short story I was ever really happy with…and frankly, the closest thing to a tragedy I ever wrote.

I think I’m finally comfortable enough with sharing it here, so take a look if you care to. If you’d prefer something a bit more in keeping with V-day, check back a bit later today; I’ll have a more upbeat story posted. ’Cos as jaded an cynical as I’ve become, I’m still a hopeless romantic at heart, and much prefer happy endings…even though I’ll never be worthy of one myself.

~*~

The Unicorn
by R.R. Goodwill
Copyright © September 2019

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Once upon a time, there lived a little Unicorn who dwelt upon a farm. Why the Farmer had brought her there, and for what purpose, she could not fathom. She could not give milk like the cows and nanny-goats. She was not swift and strong like the horses. She could not give wool like the sheep, nor was she bold enough to herd them like the dog. She could not catch mice like the cats. And since the Farmer had not brought any other Unicorns to the farm, he clearly did not intend to breed her, as he did with the other animals.

“In short,” she concluded miserably, “I am utterly useless.”

Yet the Unicorn was not without her own special abilities, for she could sing beautifully, and it gave her great pleasure. Most of the time, she sang when only the Farmer could hear, although once in a great while she allowed a select few of her friends to hear her songs.

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Now the Unicorn had in the course of her life befriended some of the animals on the farm, as well as a few from the nearby forest. But her best friend was a Bluebird who sang even more beautifully than the Unicorn, for his songs were full of deep thought and quiet wisdom. The Unicorn and the Bluebird often spoke together, as well, and the Bluebird proved himself more observant, and to understand her better, than most of the Unicorn’s acquaintance.

As the years passed, however, the Unicorn’s friends left the farm and the forest and crossed a broad, deep river that lay nearby, and made new homes—and new lives—for themselves in the lands beyond. The little Unicorn, however, was obliged to remain on the farm, and she missed them terribly. She realized what good friends she had in these creatures, and it made her wish that they could all live close together, as before. But she knew that could never be, for they had their own lives now, and those lives had moved far beyond the narrow limits of farm-life, or even forest-life.

Over time, she began to miss the Bluebird most of all. As she relived her memories of times spent with him, and recalled the conversations she had had with him, she shed not a few tears at the thought of never seeing him again, and even began to feel she had somehow driven him away, albeit unintentionally.

One day, as she stood leaning against the fence at the far end of the pasture, gazing sadly at the great river that now divided her from her friends, she saw the Bluebird flying about over the waters, landing upon the far shore. As she looked, it seemed as though there had been a veil over him, but now it blew aside briefly, as if stirred by some unseen breeze. For one brief second, she glimpsed his true nature…and she saw that he was not a Bluebird at all, but a graceful White Stag with silver horns and gentle eyes. And she began to think perhaps, had things been different, she might have been happy with him, had he wanted her.

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  But of course now, it was too late, for they were in two different worlds, and she had no way to leave the farm, nor could she cross the great river—not unless the White Stag came to fetch her, and they could stem the tide together.

This realization caused the little Unicorn grief, even long after the moment had faded into memory. She blamed herself for missing what she saw as an opportunity for happiness—and moreover, a future of usefulness and purpose. She called herself hard names and shed many tears. She even considered sending a message to the White Stag, telling him what was in her heart. But in the end, she refrained, sensing it would be improper for her to speak first.

“If he is my soulmate,” she reasoned, “let him make the first move. Then I shall know it is genuine, and not just a silly whim or fancy of mine.”

The White Stag never spoke.

And so the little Unicorn concluded that the White Stage did not care for her—and perhaps no longer even considered her a friend after so many years.

Nevertheless, she determined to make something of the rest of her life—such as it was—and be the sort of person he would have been proud of, could he but be there to see it. She continued to sing her songs, weaving a bit of the White Stag’s deep thought and quiet wisdom into them as she was able to grasp it, and thereby honoring her old friend in the only way she knew how.

 ~*~

Feel free to leave feedback, suggestions, etc. in the comments below. All I ask is that you keep it clean, kind, and considerate. Thanks!

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~ℛ~