The Murder of the Unexpected Unicorn

In the middle of the sidewalk were shards of painted porcelain that had once been a unicorn. I only knew this because the horn was still intact and teetering on the edge of the gutter. Also, I had memorized the patterns of almost every unicorn in Moth's shop. This unicorn was one of the prettier ones. The hooves had been painted a delicate silver. The mane was white and tinged with the same silver. And there were dark purple ribbons in the mane that streamed out from it's head. It was positioned like it was galloping across some untold fairy land where unicorns still lived in peace. This one was third from the right. Meaning it was third that Moth had ever bought.

The unexpected thing was that all the unicorn figures in Moth's shop were stored on the top shelf of the bookcase at the back of the shop. These shards were in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the shop. How did it get all the way out here?

The bookcase was old and unsteady. Sometimes it wobbled as people walked across the floor. I often watched the unicorn figures tremble and clink against each other. I had waited for the day that one of these would fall.

The day had come. But the trajectory was surprising.

I turned and walked into Moth's shop.

"There was a casualty?"

Moth peered at me from behind coke bottle glasses that magnified his watery blue eyes to three times their size. "What are you going on about?"

I gestured to the sidewalk. "I saw one of your unicorns' remains scattered on the pavement. How did it get all the way out there?"

He took off his reading glasses and put on his far glasses. "One of my unicorns??!" He stood and looked to the bookcase at the back.

I also turned and now looked at the bookcase.

"What do you mean scaring me like that? They're all still there!" He took off his far glasses with a snort and put back on his reading glasses.

I crept towards the bookcase. He was right. The one I had seen in pieces outside was sitting in its usual place. It's nostrils flaring, purple ribbons streaming, and its silver hooves still reflecting the lights above. It was intact.

I slowly turned so as not to shake the figurines on their precarious perch and walked out again. The pieces were still there. This was most peculiar.

I extracted a small broom and dustpan from my coat pocket. I kept them in my coat pocket as it was large enough to keep both. And if I put it in my bag then my pet hedgehog, Tadpole, would have been forever chewing on the straw; making it useless. I gathered the pieces and dumped them into a small plastic bag I had in the other pocket. I sealed the bag. Then put it into my army bag. It settled next to my voice recorder and my spiral note pad. Tadpole, my forever co-pilot, sniffed at the top of the bag.

"Don't eat that," I warned. "You'll make yourself sick."

He sniffed haughtily at me. "Treat."

I sighed and pulled the pill bottle from my pocket. "Last one. You don't need to spoil your dinner."

He kept staring at me.

I pulled one of the treats from the pill bottle and held it out to him.

He took the treat in both his paws and retreated into his compartment of my bag.

I draped the cover back over and secured the straps. Then continued down the sidewalk.

To be continued...