An update on my mystical journey through Cancer World.
When I transformed from human into a pale white unicorn, a strange, fantastical world opened before me. Innocent of the path ahead, I grazed on peace and rainbows.
Tucked into an HDR-enhanced photo field of wildflowers sweetened with full blossom, I slept past spring, summer and fall. When I awoke the ground had lost its perfume and color to sheets of ice.
Beneath my coat of white fur, my flesh and bones shook like the epicenter of a newborn geologic fault. Violent tremors coursed through a cauldron of steaming black magma. I fought to stand on my own, but my legs would not hold me upright.
A rescue team lifted my stunned body into the safety of their castle.
“Bring me a bucket of love,” I whinnied for my unicorn’s specialized nourishment.
A pitcher filled with a liquid that brimmed with rainbow streams, the team brought me. I gulped it to its end. But I still could not stand.
The rescuers consulted and determined that what I needed was no longer peace and rainbows, but human blood.
“No, I’m a unicorn,” I protested.
One rescuer said, “Unicorn, look into the mirror. Your magic horn droops and you cannot pull yourself from your bed. Your body craves a human’s blood.
Unicorns must prance in gentle sunlight. Unicorns must celebrate life. Unicorns must live on. So I took of the human’s blood and slept for hours. I rose long before the sun. There was no need to call for help to make me stand. My legs were strong. My head cleared. My magical horn was gone and I craved another dose of human blood.