Okay, I have to apologise in advance. Much to my shame, I haven't yet read The Last Unicorn. I know, I know, feel free to throw things, but I am working on it, it's just so hard to find. Which means this is based entirely on the film.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic and the general concept are entirely the property of Peter Beagle. The title is courtesy of David Schur.
The Way of Oblivion by Thea
The eternal twilight of the forest is shattered by the sound of distant rumbling; the heavens tremble ominously. The air hisses with dread and every being trembles with fear, though I do not know why.
I begin to gallop, oblivious to my surroundings as a chilly panic clutches me with an iron grip.
Something alien, something that does not belong has invaded my silent refuge and taken away any harmony.
I reach a crescent-shaped clearing. Nothing grows here, it has remained unaffected by the seasons well beyond the memory of any in the forest, and it is cloaked in perpetual darkness.
Silence.
My own pearly, iridescent skin provides the only light and this unnerves me. I am accustomed to the balmy summer evenings that linger infinitely in my leafy haven.
I hear the hooves behind me, drumming the ground and scorching the earth as it passes beneath them. I am unable to move, frozen by fear or confusion or fascination, perhaps a morbid concoction of all three and many more besides.
Suddenly the light away towards the west begins to grow, accompanying the pounding earth and my world is turned on its head: night becomes day and I, an immortal being, for the first time become truly afraid.
Framed by a lattice of interwoven trees and ivy I see the figure which has for so long plagued my nights and haunted my days. Throughout my long existence I have dreaded none so much as he.
The Red Bull.
He towers above me, a raging inferno. The very sinews of his huge, muscular shoulders seem to be made from molten lava, his coat little more than a deep scarlet enveloping of flame. His eyes remain black as coal, unfeeling and dead.
With an unintelligible roar he leaps forward, dispersing dead leaves and making the very air surrounding us cower in fear. His empty eyes reveal nothing, but every ounce of his mighty frame challenges me to defy him.
Without hesitating a second longer I turn to run, faster than I can ever remember, driven by terror. Suddenly I am pulled up short, stopped by the flared nostrils of the bull in front of me. Again I turn, desperately seeking sanctuary; again I am halted.
He drives me before him like common cattle. I soon realise I am not running to escape him, I am running to the very place he wishes me to be. When I realise this I immediately veer off to the left. My action is greeted with an angry cry and a turbulent chase, and I stream towards an inviting copse of trees, frantic for a safe haven.
Wildly I race between two ancient oaks and become disoriented; I've never seen this place before and I realise with a shock that we must have come some distance. In my confusion I slow almost to a halt and within seconds the bull has swooped down on me and once more we are returned to the hunter and the hunted.
I barely notice the lands we pass through in what seems to me to be an eternal nightmare, though we travel through lands untouched by mankind, calm and pure with gleaming innocent and lands barren and grey, seemingly untouched by life of any kind.
I wonder vaguely if the others came this way. I have never known another unicorn in my long life though I was told they travelled these roads years ago. For what reason I am discovering for myself.
Just when I think I can go no farther, my limbs moving heavily beneath me I reach the beginning of a steep, high pathway winding down a cliff-face, and it is this path that I now follow. Stumbling and tripping on unseen rocks, I arrive bewildered and exhausted only to be goaded across a flat plain of land towards a wide expanse of water.
I stop dead. The ocean spray whips into the air maliciously, and when it does I almost see a hoof, and at other times a glimpse of a horn. I fear this new danger more almost as much as the fiery demon behind me and realise that as soon as I am captured in that watery prison there will be no escape for me.
I turn again, desperate to escape the unceasing horrors that surround me, desperate to escape the fate that awaits me, but I am halted incessantly.
I am given no choice.
Powerlessly, my hooves are engulfed in the swirling darkness beneath me, the temperature mercilessly cold as shivers of ice overwhelm me.
Slowly I am swallowed by the abyss, the reticent liquid reaches up from the watery depths to claim me.
Slowly, as so many others before me, the last, I am forced the way of oblivion.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic and the general concept are entirely the property of Peter Beagle. The title is courtesy of David Schur.
The Way of Oblivion by Thea
The eternal twilight of the forest is shattered by the sound of distant rumbling; the heavens tremble ominously. The air hisses with dread and every being trembles with fear, though I do not know why.
I begin to gallop, oblivious to my surroundings as a chilly panic clutches me with an iron grip.
Something alien, something that does not belong has invaded my silent refuge and taken away any harmony.
I reach a crescent-shaped clearing. Nothing grows here, it has remained unaffected by the seasons well beyond the memory of any in the forest, and it is cloaked in perpetual darkness.
Silence.
My own pearly, iridescent skin provides the only light and this unnerves me. I am accustomed to the balmy summer evenings that linger infinitely in my leafy haven.
I hear the hooves behind me, drumming the ground and scorching the earth as it passes beneath them. I am unable to move, frozen by fear or confusion or fascination, perhaps a morbid concoction of all three and many more besides.
Suddenly the light away towards the west begins to grow, accompanying the pounding earth and my world is turned on its head: night becomes day and I, an immortal being, for the first time become truly afraid.
Framed by a lattice of interwoven trees and ivy I see the figure which has for so long plagued my nights and haunted my days. Throughout my long existence I have dreaded none so much as he.
The Red Bull.
He towers above me, a raging inferno. The very sinews of his huge, muscular shoulders seem to be made from molten lava, his coat little more than a deep scarlet enveloping of flame. His eyes remain black as coal, unfeeling and dead.
With an unintelligible roar he leaps forward, dispersing dead leaves and making the very air surrounding us cower in fear. His empty eyes reveal nothing, but every ounce of his mighty frame challenges me to defy him.
Without hesitating a second longer I turn to run, faster than I can ever remember, driven by terror. Suddenly I am pulled up short, stopped by the flared nostrils of the bull in front of me. Again I turn, desperately seeking sanctuary; again I am halted.
He drives me before him like common cattle. I soon realise I am not running to escape him, I am running to the very place he wishes me to be. When I realise this I immediately veer off to the left. My action is greeted with an angry cry and a turbulent chase, and I stream towards an inviting copse of trees, frantic for a safe haven.
Wildly I race between two ancient oaks and become disoriented; I've never seen this place before and I realise with a shock that we must have come some distance. In my confusion I slow almost to a halt and within seconds the bull has swooped down on me and once more we are returned to the hunter and the hunted.
I barely notice the lands we pass through in what seems to me to be an eternal nightmare, though we travel through lands untouched by mankind, calm and pure with gleaming innocent and lands barren and grey, seemingly untouched by life of any kind.
I wonder vaguely if the others came this way. I have never known another unicorn in my long life though I was told they travelled these roads years ago. For what reason I am discovering for myself.
Just when I think I can go no farther, my limbs moving heavily beneath me I reach the beginning of a steep, high pathway winding down a cliff-face, and it is this path that I now follow. Stumbling and tripping on unseen rocks, I arrive bewildered and exhausted only to be goaded across a flat plain of land towards a wide expanse of water.
I stop dead. The ocean spray whips into the air maliciously, and when it does I almost see a hoof, and at other times a glimpse of a horn. I fear this new danger more almost as much as the fiery demon behind me and realise that as soon as I am captured in that watery prison there will be no escape for me.
I turn again, desperate to escape the unceasing horrors that surround me, desperate to escape the fate that awaits me, but I am halted incessantly.
I am given no choice.
Powerlessly, my hooves are engulfed in the swirling darkness beneath me, the temperature mercilessly cold as shivers of ice overwhelm me.
Slowly I am swallowed by the abyss, the reticent liquid reaches up from the watery depths to claim me.
Slowly, as so many others before me, the last, I am forced the way of oblivion.