Check Wendig’s weekly flash fiction challenge is to write a 1000 word unicorn-themed story. In fact, he specifically said: I don’t care how, but you get bonus points for thinking creatively or doing something different with the creature that we haven’t seen or don’t otherwise expect. Bring some attitude to it.
If you regularly read this blog, you may remember that a few weeks ago I asked for opinions on what to do with story ideas that don’t suit my usual style/voice. “Just write it anyway!” seemed to be the over-riding sentiment. So here, you’ll find me doing just that. This is a much darker mood/tone than I usually write, but I give you:
On the Horn of the Unicorn
Calvin hums a happy tune while he waits for his coffee to brew. He’s in a good mood. Everything went according to plan last night, and tonight should be even better. He carefully places two chocolate biscuits on a porcelain plate, and put the half-full packet back in the cupboard. No need to be greedy.
The scent of coffee is like heaven. He breathes deeply, savouring the rich, earthy aroma. Then he pours himself a cup and adds three spoons of sugar and a dollop of cream. Calvin believes in enjoying life to the full.
With coffee cup and plate in hand, he makes his way out of the kitchen and up to his office. He takes the time to peer into the bedroom on the way. The girl is still asleep. He smiles and drinks in her naked body with his eyes. Then he catches himself and murmurs, “Not yet,Cal.Wait until tonight.”
He’s aroused when he reaches the office. The sight of her was too much for him. When he licks his lips, he imagines he can still taste her. A low moan escapes his lips, and he puts the cup and plate down on his desk. He doesn’t want to make a mess.
There’s a photo on the desk. It’s of the two of them together. Calvin took it last night, and printed it this morning. He picks it up and traces the fingers of his right hand over the printed contours of her body. He moans again, and his hand moves to unbutton his jeans. There’s plenty of time until nightfall.
He savours the chocolate biscuits. The coffee is cold, but he doesn’t care. The sun is setting, and he can hear the sound of movement from the bedroom. Soon it will be time to play.
The curtains are still open. He’s been too occupied to close them. The full moon is in the sky, although the though the last rays of sunlight have yet to fade. It isn’t time yet, but the anticipation is killing him. He needs to relax. He needs a release.
A smile crosses Calvin’s face and his eyes close for a moment. He stands and pulls his jeans up over his hips, and then makes his way to the display cabinet on the side wall. He considers his souvenirs carefully, weighing up the benefits of each. Then he opens the cabinet door and carefully takes one out.
The long, blonde hair still smells of strawberries. He lays it against his nose and breathes deeply. He remembers this one. She didn’t scream, she just begged and begged until she had no more breath. The memories flood back and his jeans tighten. With a smile, he places the trophy back in the cabinet. The night is young, and the girl is waiting.
But first, he takes the cup and plate back to the kitchen.
Calvin stands in the doorway watching the girl. She strains against the bonds that hold her wrists and ankles in place. He enjoys watching the struggle. It makes the inevitable submission all the sweeter. He rubs his hand over his crotch and waits.
When the last rays of light are gone, Calvin starts lighting the candles. He likes the smell of hot wax, and the flickering light lends a romantic air to the evening. He’s pleased. The girl is pleading. It’s a good start to the night.
He carefully positions the candles around the room. If wants to have the best view of the girl. And it wouldn’t do for a candle to get in the way of him accessing his tools.
He lays out his tools as the girl moves on to threats. Calvin listens to the tone more than the words. This is just part of the foreplay. First, the pleas. Now, the threats. Soon will come tears and begging. Then, he will begin his work. And eventually they will both have the release they desire.
Calvin finishes lighting the candles, and approaches the bed. The girl is spirited. She isn’t crying yet. She’s still peppering him with insults and threats of vengeance. It’s really quite cute. He strokes her cheek and she tries to bite him. Delightfully wild.
He stops to look at her beauty again. It is, after all, what first attracted him. A mane of golden hair atop her head, an athletic body, and fabulously long legs. He runs a hand down her neck and over her chest and hip. She squirms and bucks, and he smiles. It’s going to be a good night.
Calvin selects an implement from his silver tray. The girl spits vitriol. And then she changes.
Arms and legs lengthen, vertebrae crack, features shift, restraints break. She rolls from the bed to the floor before Calvin can react.
Neck grows, face elongates, ears move, fists and feet harden into hoofs. Tail grows, skin fades to white, golden horn extends from forehead. Calvin stares. The unicorn stands before him and shakes her head.
Moonlight streams through the window. The unicorn turns her snow-white face toward Calvin. Her golden horn and mane glint in the candlelight. She dips her head, and steps forward. Then she lunges and brings her head up.
Blood and gore glisten on the horn of the unicorn.
Calvin’s body falls to the floor.
Never mess with a were-unicorn.