| Once upon a time in a little
girl's room long long ago there was a magic music box. When she opened the lid the
tinkling sounds called to the unicorns. They came from far and wide over hill and
dale and they danced to the music of the fairy bells. As long as the music played they
pranced and danced to the happy little tune. One day when the music box was opened the song played and there were no unicorns to be found. The girl wondered if they had gone dancing off merrily with the fairies and were so busy in their play that the ringing bells could not summon them. It was not like them not to come, the magic sounds could always assemble them. The years passed and the magic box lay unopened and dust covered its top for it was stored away in the dark of a closet. For what good was a magic box with a tune that could not bring the unicorns into the little girls room? The little girl grew older and gave up many childish things along the way. She used to wish upon a star at night until she learned they were the shadows of dead light. When life was simple she merely accepted it with the coming and going of each day. Sunrise to sunset the world revolved and she did not spin off the planet but fit a role she played. She grew older and then began to see the injustices all around. She joined her voice with those who demanded change. She had sat in peaceful protests to stop the killings and the wars. She danced in the grass with the wind blowing the flowers in her hair, singing songs of love and peace. Occasionally the girl would remember the unicorns and how they danced for her in the light of the moon. This was a time when there had been no need for locks on doors and the world had felt safe. When one could go for a drive and not be over come with rage. She wondered if the wars and bitter hatred had kept them away from this world she lived in. There were no unicorns in the marches that tore down the barriers of race. Not one had been seen since the time of the laser missile-guidance systems. They were not here for the LSD, marijuana or crack cocaine. Nor had one been the cause of a Jerry Springer fist-fight. Theirs had been a time of innocence and sweet playing and even Martha Stewart would have said they were a "good thing". The day came when the girl knew it was time for her to travel far away. She was no longer young and full of play. She was weary of the world that surrounded her. Spoiled and decaying her universe was a vile place to live. As she began to leave she remembered the old magical music box. It lay at the back of the closet still where it had been all these many years. She lovingly brushed the dust from the lid. Slowly she opened the box and from it came the lovely tinkling noises she had so vividly recalled from her younger days. Holding the box she closed her eyes and swayed to the music and from the dark came the unicorns. They came prancing and playing to the sounds of the old tune guiding the girl in the dance of the unicorns.
Cheryl C. Helynck 2000
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