Becoming a unicorn was a terrible idea. I thought it would be pretty cool and the spell said it would only last two days, a perfect weekend. Nope. An awful, awful idea. It has just been one problem after another. The first thing was that apparently unicorns can only eat flowers and nothing else. Not that they prefer it (I have no idea if real ones like it), I mean that it is literally the only thing the unicorn body will allow me to eat. Have you ever tasted a flower? I have. It was gross! And of course, the moment someone saw me, they wanted to kill me. Apparently any unicorn body part is worth a killing (pun intended) on the black market. Blood, horn fragments, hair, hell I even heard someone say something about my tonsils. Gross! I tried to tell the hunters that I was human, but being a unicorn, I couldn’t form human words. So instead of spending a fun, relaxing weekend prancing around in glades, I’ve been running myself ragged trying to throw the hunters off my track. Oh, and the best part of it? The spell was supposed to wear off two hours ago. Well, you know what I still am? A goddamn freaking unicorn! I want to kill whoever the hell it was that wrote that stupid spell. Speaking of which, it better wear off soon, because if another person tries to kill me for my body parts, I’m going to gore them. You want my horn so bad? Here, have it, straight through your chest! 

Beware of the mighty basilisk

for I have elongated into one

stretching beyond my control

too late to hold myself together

I’ve become a mythical snake of sorts.

King of serpents with magical powers

I can kill at a single glance

leaving trail of venom marking path.

Oh what a power to embody

devious plans appear in my mind

I’ll kill those who spurned me

and those who smote me with clubs

Or my mother-in-law – lots of ideas!

I can hold my middle erect and stand

sneaking up on my enemies unaware

glimpse them with poisonous looks

killing them dead without recourse.

Even my breath is poisonous

so don’t cross me or you’re dead.

Overwhelming power possesses me

but how do I return to myself?

The bite, it gives you unimaginable powers. A keen sense of smell, sight, hearing. And, of course, the ability to transform into a gigantic fluffy beast.

Full moons are terrible. I used to love them when I was a human. I used to lay in the grass and stare at it thinking, wishing to be different. Well, I guess I am now, but not in the way I had imagined.

In a way, I miss my old life. It's hard having to lie to everyone. Especially James. He's the only one who truly notices a difference in me. I'm going to lose him. I know I am. I just hope it's not too late. I love him dearly, but I doubt he thinks of me as more than a best friend. If even that. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to speak to me again. I'm stuck in a web of lies.

Suddenly the feeling starts to trail up my back and my eyes narrow. Ears and nose elongate. Hands transform to paws and nails become claws.

And now I'm left, howling at the moon, as if it is my unattainable lover.

When I awake,

I realize that I am not who I used to be.

I move gracefully,

no friction.

I fly like a feather

Without falling.

I feel as fast as light,

but I am not light.

I think that I may become a special fairy.

My dust that I leave behind is from the intense pain

I feel when I fly fast.

My glow is from the heat of friction-less travel.

My wings are a mirage,

There so you may see that I can be understood

When I obviously can't be.

When I awake,

I will be new.

Everything is dark. It is like cave darkness; so dark I am not sure if my eyes are even open. I am sitting on something hard, uncomfortably hard. My tail bone groans for relief. I shift my weight, everything hurts. Every joint, every muscle resists movement. I begin to wonder how long I have been sitting here.

I do not remember much of anything before this point. A piece of chalk, a door where one had not been before, and a dark shadow are all my hazy mind can piece together.

My hands are resting on something in front of me. It is smooth like glass and cool to the touch. I run my hands across its surface slowly: no breaks, no cracks, no nicks, just one flawless surface. I take a deep breath, the air smells so good and excites my salivary glands. I can single out a few of the smells: cooked meat, garlic, cinnamon, and fresh bread. I am so hungry.

My hands collide with something thin directly in front of me. My finger traces the outer edge; it is round. I assume it is a plate and I am sitting at a table with freshly cooked food. I try to open my eyes but it is all in vain. I do not even feel the muscles needed to perform that function move. I raise my hands to my face.

I flinch and pull my hands away. I examine one hand with the other to find long pointed nails at the end of each boney finger. They feel thick like a ram’s horn and I doubt a regular nail clipper will be able to take them down to nothing. There is something else that causes my stomach to turn: holes. One hole on each palm with skin dangling on either side of it. These holes are shallow and do not go completely through either palm. I wonder if something goes there or if something was taken away. I raise my hands back to my face being much more careful this time.

I search for my eyes but do so in vain. All I feel is skin. Not even deep wells where my eyes should be just soft seamless skin. I begin to panic and caress the rest of my face. Two small holes where a nose should be and a lipless mouth covered in something wet and sticky. I don’t remember eating anything. I am starving.

I run my tongue over the teeth in my mouth; they are like puppy teeth. Thin and sharp like a needle. I run my fingers through my hair, or lack there of. My curls are gone and my fingers meet only skin. I search the rest of my body in a hurry. Nothing but fold after fold of skin hanging on thin bones. No muscle, no fat, just too much skin and not enough bone.

I go to put my hands back on the table but they end up on the plate instead. My plate isn’t empty. There are two round objects and I grab one in each hand. They are smooth and slippery like an olive but slightly bigger. It could be food and I think about popping this mystery item into my mouth. Why am I so hungry? Instead instinct seems to grab a hold of me and I gently place them in the holes on my palms. Hands open I raise them to where my eyes should be and now I see.

I see all. The room is warm and inviting, lit by dozens of candles and a roaring fire. The table is long and seems to be made for many to sit and dine. It is lined with a hundred delicacies from roasted pheasant to blackberry pie. There, not more than a few feet away from me, is a child enjoying the plump red grapes. It is then that hunger over takes me and I realize nothing I want is on the table. I want the child.

I struggle to get up, the skin weighs me down. The commotion causes the child to turn her attention away from the feast and horror spreads across her sweet face. Joints crack and my stiff movements make getting to my meal a challenge. She backs away and begins to run. I stagger after her longing to tear the flesh from her bone.