The Lion, The Unicorn and the Lamppost
Flash Fiction #26
What happened so far…
… and now for the conclusion.
I shine for them to see,
Shining bright throughout the night,
They live their lives,
They eat their cake,
And no one knows,
What it takes to keep the light.
I keep the light burning bright,
A beacon in the starless night,
I stand my ground, come wind or rain,
And watch and listen silently,
To The Lion and the Unicorn,
And the girl that was not to be.
As a lamppost, my options are limited once planted in the field. I don’t get around much, and the only thing I can hope for is to shine, shine like a crazy diamond. I’m not complaining. We live for those brightest of flames, those singular moments that last a lifetime, like that night when I shone on the Lion and the Unicorn.
“The girl isn’t real. S’all I’m saying,” muttered the Unicorn, munching on a slice of plum cake.
“Ah, but she ate cake, didn’t she?” replied the Lion.
The Unicorn nodded and neighed in dissent. “Yes, she did not. Less cake, that’s for real, but she is not.”
“You’re a Loonycorn. If she’s not real, she’s a dream, and dreams don’t eat cake. Ergo, she must be real.” The Lion looked up from his book, satisfied with his ratiocination.
“Ah, life, what is it but a dream? We start at the end and work our way backwards, whichever way we can, until we’re unborn,” said the Unicorn and ate more cake.
“We can’t go back. We’re already here. If we go any further, we’ll never get to where we were before,” the Lion spoke gravely and shook his mighty mane, glistening in the lamppost’s light.
How dull and dreadful that mane would be without me. But behold—what majestic sparkle!
“Did you hear that?” whispered the Unicorn, her ears pricked up, eyeing the lamppost.
“Hear what?”
“I thought… never mind. Listen to the gurgle of the river. Always gurgling, gurgling along the rushes; always fading, fading away the instant I pluck them.”
“What are you on about?” The Lion, irritated at the constant interruptions, glared at the Unicorn.
“Have you ever wondered why we keep fighting over that crown? Why, it is clear that I, purest, most magical of all creatures to grace the face of the earth, shall inherit all. The crown can never be yours. We need not fight. It is decided.”
“Well, that’s your opinion, and I respect that. But that’s all it is. One opinion.”
“At least I have one, and it’s mine.”
“So?”
“So, look around. Opinions abound, none of their own. They believe; they see with their eyes closed, with ears that hear and don’t hear. It’s like hammering on a door that opens only when you leave.”
“Hmm, hmm. Are you insinuating we are being put up to this? I AM king among all beasts. The crown is mine.” The Lion continued reading, and they pondered in silence. After a while, he stopped, looked up and said, “Ever considered the possibility that there is no crown?”
“No crown? Who’s talking nonsense now? No crown!” The Unicorn neighed, shaking her mane. “I suppose there’s also no cake?” Having said it, she gobbled down another slice.
At that point, a hare came running by, clutching a sorry bundle of forget-me-nots tight, muttering, “I’m late again, oh my, oh my.”
“Hullo, Mr Rabbit. Where are you off to? Stay, have some cake!” shouted the Unicorn.
The hare jumped with a yelp and looked at the two creatures under the lamppost for the first time.
“Cake? No, no, no. I mustn’t forget, I mustn’t.” At that, the hare nibbled one of the flowers.
“Why the hurry? Stay a while, come, sit!” The Lion shook his mane and yawned, licking his terrific teeth at the sight of their visitor.
In my light, the Lion’s fangs shone bright, brighter than the sun and blinded by that same light, the rabbit blinked, and ere he spake, he sat and ate some cake.
“There! You all heard it this time? Yes? It spoke!” The Unicorn was on its feet, sniffing the ground around the lamppost and snorting repeatedly.
“Delamp?” Mr Rabbit mumbled, mouth full of cake.
The flowers joined in, chanting “Delamp, Delamp,” much to nobody’s surprise.
“Why are you so surprised?” asked the Lion, eyeing nobody, putting down his book, its letters glinting golden in the lamp’s warm beams, illuminating the night.
Nobody shrugged and faded into the shadows beyond the lamppost. They heard a wooden creak followed by the heavy sigh of a door being shut.
“Where did he go?” The Unicorn said to no one in particular.
I could tell you, but it’s the wrong book; you best stay put. Eat more cake, river turns into a brook, forlorn to roam the lands as a Unicorn.
“Excuuuse me? You talking to me?” The Unicorn was looking up at the lamppost now, nostrils flared.
“Oh, oh! Good Sir Lamppost, have you perhaps seen a little girl?”
“The girl? You mean the real girl?” interjected the Lion.
“The dream girl,” corrected the Unicorn.
“Yes, yes! Her name is—” Mr Rabbit started.
“Yes, we know it IS, all names ARE. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t exist. Silly hare.” The Unicorn scolded.
Why ask questions if you know the answers, none of which would rhyme? It’s here your fates entwine. The Lion reads a book not yet written, the last battle to be won, a magic horn, the girl that was and was not—the last Unicorn.
The Unicorn snorted. “There’s no such thing as LAST. Nothing lasts, nothing is, nothing was. I am FIRST. By my horn, I will shine long after you have spent your light.”
“The girl… where did she go?” Mr Rabbit pleaded.
Where all must go, where shadows thrive in the dark, where light does shine for some time, yonder lies much joy and pain. Through that door, one may pass from here into the other, who believe may stay, to dream on forever and a day.
Great read, Alexander. Word play, intertextual play...and a unicorn!
Ahh, excellent, excellent nonsense chatter from these characters. Especially loved the lampposts lines and the way they interject, this one especially: How dull and dreadful that mane would be without me.
A very fitting ending with the lamppost's observations: Through that door, one may pass from here into the other, who believe may stay, to dream on forever and a day.
👏