The baby unicorn
Far away to the east, near where the sun rises from every morning, there was a verdant land of rolling green fields. It was a land blessed with ample sunshine and abundant rain, and as such, nature's bounty could be found in its full glory. Its hills were oft crowned with colourful wildflowers, and little bubbling brooks ran cool and crystal clear down to emerald vales.
Within one such emerald vale, by a little brook just like any other, there stood a small baby unicorn. His skin was gleaming white, with a shining mane that glittered in the light when the baby unicorn tossed his head. Right now, though, his head was bowed low, staring at his reflection in the water. Or more specifically, at the tender, sawn-off stump of his single horn.
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Okay I just ran out of inspiration. I'm just bored la and I felt like writing something but didn't really have much to write. Just finished reading Blind Assasin. In it, a man concocts post-coital science fiction stories for his lover. Strange.
Been thinking a lot, lately. I think its mainly because I don't have enough to do. Or rather, I'm not interested enough or motivated enough to do the things I should be doing. So I just bum around, stare into space and think.
But if my mind travels on journeys as my imagination creates new situations and worlds for me, am I really still "stuck at home"? Hmm.
posted by Đirestraits @ 12:29 am
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