To my astonishment, I have, indeed, met, ‘cross my heart and hope to die’, believe me you, I kid you not, the, oh, so very adored, imaginary no more, unicorns. Four beautiful, sparkly and magnetic creatures and they were planning to round up the night by innocently snatching a police vehicle, with me casually picked as decoy. I totally agreed to it, of course. How could one say “no” to unicorns. After an interesting enough soirée, Nihon-shu infused, I was just seating there, tantalized by the events displaying right before my eyes and the story unfolding from within. Please, write about us, said the one with the reddish curly hair with a charmingly British accent while they walked by the bench where I sat. My eyes had been locked on the four enchanting characters since I made notice of them, adjusting the details of their master plan, involving the teasing of an officer, yet to prove his negotiating skills on the unpredictably upcoming fling, sharing giggles fueled with remains of angel’s share. One, two, three… Unicorns! They cheered, hands piled up on top of each other, as they broke up the circle where they held their improvised affair. I would, I said, of course. Here, therefore, to my charming and beautifully intoxicated unicorns I had the luck to encounter on a Saturday late hour while waiting for the last boat home on an oddly warm night on September. Shall this be the last time I meet such magical creatures, so be it at last, on the eight of the ninth on the twenty twenty-one.

Unicorns. Short-story from “12 o’clock-tales” (The red table & A scared black cat, book adventure)

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