“There it is,” Dad said. He pointed into the valley at the village nestled there. The brick homes were close beside each other.

Donovan stood on tip-toe to see. “How long will it take us to get there?” he asked.

“No more than an hour,” his father replied. “There’s a road. It’s overgrown but if we stay on it, the walk will be easier.”

Donovan asked, “What will we do when we get there?”

“You know what needs to be done. We’ve talked about it.”

“I’m not sure I can do it, Dad,” Donovan said.

His father stopped and knelt down. He took Donovan by the shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. “This is important,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

“But… but… they don’t look like us. They don’t talk like us,” the boy said.

“That’s why this has to be done,” his father said. “You have what you need in your pack, right?”

Donovan unzipped it and looked inside. “Dad, I really don’t think I can,” he said again.

“C’mon,” his father said. “Let’s walk.”

They walked in silence. Donovan lagged more and more behind. The overgrown road masked his dragging feet.

“You can do this, boy,” his father said, sounding snappish.

Finally, they arrived. As they walked toward the town square, curious people peered out of windows. Some came out to follow them.

When they reached the square, both took off their packs and reached inside.

“We’ve come in friendship,” they said and extended…

---

Extended what? What did they pull out?

This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge. The Unicorn Challenge is the easiest (rule-wise) challenge: no more than 250 words with the photo as a prompt.

So? What do you think? Is DEI dead? Or is there hope?

Hey! I see you!

Yeah.

I mean, I’ve seen you around on his face, but we never get a chance to talk.

Yeah. [long pause] What’s there to talk about?

You’re new, aren’t you?

Yeah.

I love your shade of blue.

Am I supposed to say I love your boring brown? [pause] ’cause I don’t.

Good for you! I hate insincerity. My brown IS incredibly boring, I agree. I’m intended for practicality.

Aren’t all glasses practical?

Well, he takes me off and shoves me in his pocket. His shirt pocket. His jacket pocket. His jeans pocket. Sometimes, he even sticks me in his back pocket and sits on me! I have to withstand all that.

Yeah.

You get a fun color. You get those cute little nose pads.

I suppose.

Once, when he was putting in his garden, I fell out of his shirt pocket into the dirt. My ‘boring brown’ blended right in. He didn’t find me for three days.

Really?

Yes! You would have been spotted right away! But I got peed on by a rabbit, crawled over by bugs, and even had a slug traverse my lenses. He left a slug slime trail!

Ew.

Yeah — you’re pretty lucky.

Why are we here?

My guy is in that bed. They said something about a heart attack and threw me over here.

Where’s my guy?

He’s sitting there beside him. He took his glasses off because he was crying and set you here.

Where are we?

The ICU.

---

Ah, the Unicorn Challenge. You know the drill, right? No more than 250 words. Use the photo as a prompt.

“How many lives do cats get, Mom?”

“Nine, but they don’t really get more than one life. It’s more like near-misses.”

“I know. I’m just trying to figure out how many Charon has had.”

“When has Charon escaped death?”

“There was that time when she ran out in front of Mr. Jones’ car. He almost hit her, but he hit the tree instead, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I miss that tree.”

“Then after that, Mr. Jones was riding his bike and she ran out in front of him. He almost hit her again.”

“That was when he crashed and hit his head, right?”

“He should have been wearing a helmet, Mom. In fact, he had one on when he was riding that scooter.”

“Don’t tell me. Charon ran in front of him?”

“Yeah, that was the time he broke his leg.”

“Oh dear.”

“It wasn’t long after that he came out on crutches to get his mail one day. Charon went over to rub against his leg, I think to say sorry –“

“Oh, right, and he tried to whack her with his crutch.”

“She got away, Mom!”

“But he fell and broke his arm. So how many are we up to?”

[counting on fingers] “Car. Bike. Scooter. Crutches. It’s only four. Charon’s got plenty of lives left. She’ll be fine.”

“But will Mr. Jones?”

---

This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge. It’s a simple challenge: write no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

The first time he accidentally hit his ball over their wall, he thought it was gone for good. He wasn’t even sure anyone was home. Within minutes, though, it came sailing back to him.

The second time he was again playing alone, throwing the ball up then quickly getting both hands on the bat to try to hit the ball.

His friends weren’t interested in American baseball.

“Too many rules,” they would say. “Strikes? Balls? Three of one and four of the other? It makes no sense.” “Where’s the wicket?”

Anyway, the second time he whacked the ball over the wall, he worried, but the ball was gently tossed back. Right to him. He wondered as he caught it, could they see him?

The third time he had been distracted by the noise coming from behind the wall. Laughter — odd, grunty laughter, but laughter nonetheless. Boisterous shouts in languages he didn’t know.

He inched his way closer, listening. He hit the ball the other way. Until he hit directly over the wall.

A silence settled on the other side. The ball did not come back.

The door opened and a tall gentleman in formal attire called to him, “Is this your ball?”

He went to retrieve it but the man didn’t hand him his ball. He ushered him in.

The boy heard the door lock behind him.

“Three strikes and you’re out,” said the man.

The boy looked at the odd array of monsters approaching him. His heart squeezed inside.

---

This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. The challenge is easy: write no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.