Spastic Spontaneous Stories of the Short Kind

STORY THREE - Unicorns by @_WritingWithRuby_

My name is Hugo Wells and the 27th of July 1969 to the 15th of August that same year marks the time my family was killed and I was on the run. It all started when we were planning on going on a camping trip. We had gathered all our things and planned to be gone for a week. As you can most likely tell, we were gone far longer than that. Or at least I was.

Settling into bed I fell into a deep sleep. I didn't awaken to my parent's and Carter's screams so I guess those wretched unicorns assumed I was already dead. Rose was only still alive because she said she couldn't sleep and had sought higher ground to clear her head. I remember her insisting unicorns had taken them, but of course I didn't believe her back then. How I wish I could take back the cruel words I said. I had thought that a wild cat or feral dog had gotten in.

I forced Rose to pack as I searched our campsite for any clues. Finding nothing, I assisted Rose to pack some of the last things and started carrying them back. We had driven to the area, however I didn't trust myself to drive so we had to return home on foot. Rose was obedient and tried her best not to complain but I made sure she rested and kept hydrated.

A week later we were about half way back into town when I could've sworn I had seen stray unicorns near some of the trees but I had insisted I was imagining it. It took us another week to make it another quarter as we were both tiring fast. That's when the unicorns attacked.

I yelled at Rose to drop the bags and run towards a climbable tree. I quickly climbed a tree, expecting Rose to do the same. I looked down and saw Rose. On the floor. Underneath. Unicorns. I hadn't been able to believe my eyes but I saw them again many times. That time however, was the last time I saw Rose. I had watched those creatures tear her apart. I had heard her screams and there was nothing I could do to ease her pain. I felt so guilty for that day. I should have made sure she was safe first.

The exact time I made it out of those treacherous woods I'm unsure of, but I later learned the date was August 15, 1969. I told everyone I could that my family had been eaten by unicorns, although no one believed me. They called me deranged, crazy and so many other names I can't remember. I was placed in an asylum and that's where I'm writing from.

Before I end this letter/note thing, I shall describe these unicorns to you. I'm not even entirely sure they're unicorns but that's the only word I can think of to name them. Yes they had a horn on their head and looked kinda like a horse but apart from that there was no resemblance to what we assume a unicorn would look like. They had dark coats, black and ashy greys. The skin seemed to cling to them and many had what looked like bite marks on them. The horns varied from a dark navy to a pitch black and their eyes. Oh, their eyes seemed to stare directly into your soul, picking apart all your flaws.

If you ever encounter something even resembling what just described, run. Don't even try to get another look. Just turn and run.

Before. It. Is. Too. Late.