Home

By Vitora

Sara had no plans for New Year’s Eve—her flat was silent and deserted, as usual. The only sounds to be heard were her ancient gray tom cat purring as he snoozed on the hearth near the still-warm embers, and the resident flock of sleepy pigeons cooing softly on the roof above. Sighing, Sara tidied up the remains of the makeshift feast she had prepared for herself before pulling on her bathrobe and seating herself in the creaky rocking chair to knit the night away.

She was surprised to hear the doorbell, moments before midnight; it startled her from her uneasy slumbers, and brought her awake to the light of the full moon, just now reaching its zenith. Puzzled, the old woman set her half-knit scarf on the coffee table, tottered to the front door, and threw it open. She was instantly blinded by a brilliant light. Narrowing her rheumy eyes, Sara stared through the doorway. In the brilliance, she could barely make out the form of a horse-like creature standing there. The bright light was radiating from a magnificent spiraled horn. The animal seemed familiar somehow, and she reminded of her childhood storybooks; she realized with a jolt of surprise that the animal standing before her was a unicorn.

“Who—who are you?” she quavered, self-consciously pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. Trembling, she reached out her other wrinkled hand towards the unicorn. To her surprise, he didn’t shy away, but instead nuzzled her gently and spoke in a deep, rich voice that was full of love.

“Sara, my child, I have come to take you home.”

Sara was not afraid. She hobbled closer to the unicorn and threw her arms around his neck. “I’ve been waiting,” she told him softly.

“I know,” he replied. “Now, let us go. The night grows old, and the moon is nearly overhead. The passageway will only be open for a short time. Climb on my back, Sara, and hang on to my mane.”

The old lady did as she was bid; the unicorn kneeled down to help her mount. As soon as her frail fingers were intertwined in his mane, he spread his beautiful white wings and made a graceful leap into the sky. Away from the tiny home the pair soared, straight up towards the moon and the stars, which seemed brighter than ever before.

Soon, a glorious door loomed ahead of them, bathed in moonlight. It was constructed of a brilliant metal, gold in color, which reflected the beams back onto the snow-white coat of the unicorn, leaving luminous patterns dancing across his back and up on Sara’s face. The woman could not surpress the giggle of joy that bubbled to her lips.

The unicorn continued to fly straight towards the door, lowering his head so that his horn faced it. Before they crossed the threshold, Sara turned to look one last time at the scene below her: the city, encircled by the arms of night, looked peaceful and quiet, as though no evil, no pain or death or sickness, had ever touched it. Only a few lights dared to disrupt the darkness, one of which was Sara’s own. Lifting a wizened hand to her lips, she blew a delicate kiss towards her house.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, “I’m going home.”

The unicorn’s horn broke through the door, sending ripples of moonlight out in all directions. His wings folded in and they disappeared into another dimension, where there was no pain, no fear, no hatred—only love. Sara smiled and closed her eyes. As her shape melted through the door, a comforting thought passed through her mind.

I am home.