“WHO’S THAT I HEAR ON A WALK-WALK-WALK?
YOU MUST PLAY PAPER-SCISSORS-ROCK!”

The man walking on the path in the woods was startled to see an ogre towering before him, pounding his fist into his palm.

“Wha-a-a-a-t??!!?”

“PAPER. SCISSORS. ROCK. SHOOT!” The ogre bellowed, making the motions with his hands, then thrusting out the two fingers of scissors.

The man was so startled that he did nothing. The ogre grabbed him, threw him over his shoulder and carried him away.

A few days later it happened again. The ogre seemed to magically appear from beneath the little footbridge as a woman was crossing it. She formed rock with her fist which defeated the scissors so she was allowed to pass.

And so the days went. People mysteriously disappeared or came off the path with strange stories of a child’s game on a footbridge. Children were warned never to travel that path.

However, as children are wont to do, one day the pack mentality took over and a group of children decided to go that way.

Some of the boys boldly led the way. Some of the girls hung back clutching each other’s arms or hands. The muddled middle moved ahead, curious and cautious.

They reached the bridge

“WHO’S THAT I HEAR ON A WALK-WALK-WALK?
YOU MUST PLAY PAPER-SCISSORS-ROCK!”

The children gathered together and faced the ogre.

“PAPER. SCISSORS. ROCK. SHOOT!” The ogre bellowed.

Every child formed rock with both hands and rushed the ogre.

“GAH!!” he shrieked before – POOF! – he disappeared.

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Unicorn Challenge: No more than 250 words and base it on the photo.

A strange tale, I know, with absolutely no wise moral other than the knowledge that an ogre will always play scissors.

That bird annoyed the bejeebers out of him.

Oh, it seemed sweet when she was around, cooing, preening, making little chitterings of happiness. Once she was walked out the door, everything changed.

It hissed at him. Who knew birds could hiss?

It glared at him with a withering stare.

Lately it had started dive-bombing him.

“Can we cage the dang thing?” he asked.

“Cage Dexter?!” Clearly, he had offended her. “No-no-no-no-no-NO! He needs his freedom!”

What about mine? he thought.

“The cat’s gonna eat him,” he told her.

“They are friends,” she insisted.

The hell they are, he thought.

That day, after a particularly bad bout of hissing, withering stares, and dive bombings, he donned some disposable gloves (so he wouldn’t have to touch it) and snatched it right off its perch.

“I’ve got you now,” he hissed, in a meaner hiss than Dexter had ever done, and he wrung his little neck.

He scattered feathers around the apartment, to simulate a struggle, and put a good amount near the cat’s bed. Then — and this is the part that turned his stomach – he ripped wings and feet off to leave them as further evidence.

He carried the rest of the carcass out to the dumpster and threw it in with the gloves.

Or so he thought.

Back upstairs, he was in the bathroom washing up when she came in.

“I found this on the sidewalk,” she said, holding a glove and feather. “Doesn’t this look like Dexter’s?”

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The Unicorn Challenge — no more than 250 words based on the photo prompt.

Pretty proud of myself today – I started with over 270 words and got it down to 247!

“C’mon, Blackie,” Iain said. “Let’s go home.”

The fluffy white dog looked at him questioningly.

“Ach, you know what I mean,” he said, reaching over to scratch Blackie’s ears. “Our home here.”

Neither one stood. They both leaned into the other, Iain finally burying his face in the dog’s ruff while he wept.

God, how he missed his home. He missed ducking his head under the low door-frame as he entered. He missed the smells of the kitchen: the soup simmering on the back of the stove, the bread in the oven.

He missed the clutter on the kitchen table: the to-do lists, the newspaper, the mail.

He missed the muddy boots and shoes in disarray by the door where they had been removed and kicked aside.

He missed the gardens, always half-weeded, never perfect.

The busy-ness of the city where he now kept a tidy apartment didn’t fill the emptiness.

The sounds of the water lapping at the boats, the view of the sun setting on the mountain didn’t fill the emptiness.

Blackie, the white dog — that name was his father’s sense of humor through and through — couldn’t fill the emptiness.

He wept into Blackie’s ruff until there were no more tears.

“Let’s go,” he said again, wiping his nose and face on his arm. This time he stood.

He walked in silence, Blackie beside him. She always understood.

“How much for two tickets,” he asked at the train station. “One for me, one for my dog.”

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This is my response to this week’s Unicorn Challenge.

Such a simple challenge: no more than 250 words and base it on the photo prompt.

“Psst…. hey, kid!”

Jack looked around.

“Pssssst… kid! Over here!”

Jack looked to his left and saw a man urgently beckoning him with his hand.

Jack had had the stranger-danger talk at school. He knew he shouldn’t go over, but there was something about the man that made Jack very curious.

When he saw that he had Jack’s attention, the man said, “Kid, you believe in magic?”

Jack took a step nearer.

“Listen, kid,” the man said, “I got these magic beans, see, and I gotta unload ’em.”

Instinctively, Jack stepped back, eyeing the man warily.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid,” he said. “I just gotta get rid of ’em and you look like a boy who would appreciate a little magic in your life.”

He slowly unfurled his fingers revealing five white beans in the palm of his hand.

“Want ’em?” he asked.

As if in a trance, Jack extended his open palm to the man, then closed his fingers over the beans that were placed in it.

…..

Months later, Jack leaned against the brick school building waiting for his ride. He was imagining what it would be like to have a horse.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and pulled out a white bean. He couldn’t remember where it came from, but he popped it in his mouth. Crunch! he bit down.

The building behind him rumbled. A few bricks tumbled. His knees grew weak. He looked up and peeked.

The wall, the wall — OMG!

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The Unicorn Challenge: Max 250 words. Base it on the picture. That’s it!