Arrow Rock Literary Journal

Content Warning: Some depictions of blood and violence

It was inevitable, the fight I mean, but I’ve never been a fan of Unicorn politics.

This is stupid.

I stepped out of the tree line and onto the beach, my boots sinking into the chilled, mudded sand. The deep green and blues of the forest blended into the sky. My neck bristled at the torrent of wind sweeping over the ocean; I felt vulnerable with my white fur in the open. Like a lamb alone at night. It was silent, except for the rush of the waves beating against the beach, and the cacophony of unharmonic voices that were calling from the moon. Because of course there would be a big turnout. I snorted.

Losers, all of them.

 I stuck my tongue between my teeth and my lip. I scanned the ocean lining; it should be impossible to miss him with the moon this close. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, as well as the swell of excitement that was brewing in my chest. My hands felt hot.

I fumbled with the gloves I’d put on earlier, being careful not to rip the bright red leather with my claws. Maybe he’s just not here yet. I wondered what would happen when he did get here. I thought about his face, and what he’d look like in his luchador’s uniform. No matter what, it’ll be hard to want to hit him, that’s for sure. I shook my head and tugged my hands free. I stuck the gloves under my arms to fidget with my bindings. I rubbed my thumb into my palm, pushing harder every time the feelings returned. I glanced up from my hands every now and then, and sure enough, his silhouette appeared on the horizon in front of the moon, standing on the surface of the ocean.

He stood, staring at me with his red eyes. I guess I look just as vunerable as I feel if he didn’t need to look for me that hard. The Aristocrats, the unicorns watching from the moon, increased the volume of their calls, backing his presence with the most shrill and repulsive noises I had ever heard. Of course they loved him; A unicorn, fur reflective and as black as oil, and volatile like it too. With a passion to match. Wide-shouldered, strong strong. After his first fight, they named him Black Rainbow. He told me he hated it. He’d called it “surface-level” but then again, most unicorn names were. The only unicorns to recieve names were ones who had become “ambassadors”— unicorns who challenged and beat the previous ambassador. It insured that unicorn challengers that lost the fight died nameless, and gave power to the elite. Of course, that implied that unicorns didn’t name things very often, and so were terrible at naming their champions, often going for the most superficial name they thought of. It didn’t help that the naming conventions were also performed by The Aristocrats, the non-fighting section of the population, were also unbearably agreeable. There has only been one unicorn who named herself: Weeping Willow, the Ambassador with the highest win streak, sitting at a noble 308.

“What are you waiting for?” Black Rainbow said, his voice carrying across the waves. Once his voice was cast out, the piercing voices of The Aristocrats choked. Despite lingering dread thickening the air, he shifted his weight and put his hand on his hip. He smiled, and my heart shook. “I thought you’d be more eager!” And I didn’t think you’d be in such high spirits!

I looked down at the water; my reflection looked back at me, my curved horns framing my head. I sighed. I looked back up at him. Black Rainbow tossed his head, his hair catching in the wind and blending into the sky. His pointed, long horn sparkling like the dying stars in the night sky. Even with his bright demeanor the scene was eerie; him standing on the ocean surface, the silence only broken by the rush of the tide. I closed my eyes, and with a baited breath, stepped off the beach and onto the water.

His footsteps were upon me in an instant. Within moments he had approached me and grabbed the collar of my shirt. I gasped, and he threw me over him towards the moon. I braced for the cold, wet sensation of the waves, but fell onto the flat top of the ocean. I’m almost relieved. Almost. I heard his footsteps rush towards me. I got up just in time for him to kick me in the stomach. I went skidding across the ocean again, but I dug my heels into the surface of the water. I fell to my knees, and all of the air I had been holding as he kicked me escaped out of my mouth with a wheeze. I gasped and stumbled to my feet.

“I have no reason to torture you,” Black Rainbow said. “But you know we didn’t have to do this, right?” I looked up, trying to focus my eyes long enough to make out his frame. He walked towards me, his body barely discernable from the night sky. I swallowed a lump in my throat and straightened.

“Speak for yourself,” I said. I couldn’t help the growl that rose from my chest, the type of growl that came up when I couldn’t help but disagree. His eyebrows furrowed and he punched me, sending a spray of blood from my snout. I gagged and recoiled, dodging another blow, no matter how unintentional. He then swept my feet, graceful as ever. I fell, landing stomach down. I groaned and wiped my bloody nose into my shirt. He circled me, his tail swishing back and forth. His ears pinned back against his head.

“You have no right to say that,” he said, his voice rumbling within his chest. “We could’ve been happy here, together–”

“Oh, now that’s rich!” I scoffed and rolled over, looking up at him. He stopped and stood in front of me, eyes bloodshot and narrowed. “You weren’t going to stay here, you never were! Who would stay and choose to die when your home welcomes you with open arms and some fuckin’ sense of immortality!”

“Come on, Bora,” he said, gesturing towards the moon. “They only care about one thing, you know it, I know you do.” Blood. It was blood. Unicorn society never got enough of it; it was almost like they found it funny. I recalled the stories I’d heard from both Black Rainbow and my mother– that even though they hated inconvenience, Unicorns just didn’t bleed the same on The Moon. When a fight broke out and someone ended up dead, there’d be nothing, the gravity worked against it is what they’d say. That the only thing that would happen is that their eyes would look funny and maybe the occasional bit of drool. But on Earth, on the ocean; blood shot from their bodies, like the pressure in their bodies was all messed up.

I got up, my eyes never leaving him. His shoulders heaved and he looked at me, eyes sparkling. “You don’t think I would’ve left you really, I still have to go back—”

“And in that time, I will slowly die here, alone,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I would be wasting away here, while you went up there to gallavant away, and I would remain here, alone, dying, all because of ‘your reputation’!” I punched his chest, sending him back a few steps. He gasped, though it seemed more out of surprise than anything else. “I challenged you, I did this, I understand that!” I yelled, my voice shattered. “But if I win, I won’t die. And even if I lose,” I said, looking him in the eyes. If I focused hard enough, I could make out the white of my reflection within his red. I straightened. “At the very least, it’ll be to you.”

His breaths were deep and steady. His eyes flickered up and down my frame. It’d been a few weeks ago when I started experiencing the numerous side effects of oxygen poisoning. Unicorns are sturdy, dangerous beings; despite sharing some anatomical attributes with creatures on earth, they’re far more prone to increased muscle mass and precision. Their bodies can also naturally adapt to different atmospheres and gas concentrates. Within the realm of Unicorn invasions, even The Aristocrats are furiously capable and violent beings. There was one exception, however small; prolonged exposure to oxygen caused sickness, which led to organ failure. When I started experiencing the symptoms, that we’d hoped would never come given the circumstances of my existance, I begged him to teach me how to fight. The reasoning being that, if it ever came to it, I might survive if I had to face the challenger who took his place. I remember he sighed, and how his laced shirt made him look gentle. How his eyebrows creased but he smiled at me anyway. Now, his eyes darted around me, then they closed, and for a second it felt like everything was going to be just fine.

“Bora,” he said. He squared his feet and puffed out his chest. I mimicked him. “Just so you know,” he said, a weak smile spread on his face. “I’ve never been more excited for a fight than this one.”

We fought for what felt like hours. Sometimes it felt like play; where our tails would be wagging and neither of us could land a solid blow on the other. But the air changed as soon as I kicked out his knee and sent him to the ground for the first time.

He kneeled, clutching his thigh. It looks like he’s about to be sick. He sucked air between his teeth with a hiss. He looked up at the moon, then to me, his eyes hot with ferocity and humiliation. He pushed off the ground and raced towards me, head low to the ground. I pulled back my arm to hit him, but he snapped his head up, and all I could see was the tip of his horn.

I gasped. A surge of hot, stinging pain erupted from my lungs, setting fire to my skin. A warm sensation began to travel down my stomach and my back, trickling as it went. It went straight through me.

–

She sat in the middle of her stage, the foamy patterns sitting still beneath her. Her legs were folded underneath her in such a way the fabric of her pants didn’t hold one wrinkle. Her long, wavy hair spilled over her arched neck and her eyes. Crystal tears ran down her face, falling to  the ocean and joining it in the stage below.

“Weeping Willow!” A voice called out across the salt. Weeping Willow raised her head, her soft ears flicking forward, the muscles in her neck shifting beneath her shining fur. Her challenger, a young unicorn, rolled his shoulders and sized her up from across the stage. He swished his tail and pinned his ears back, grinning. “You’ve been reigning for far too long,” he said. He started walking towards her, taking long strides. “How long has it been, hmm? Two hundred and fifty years now?” Weeping Willow placed her hands on the stage, bending her neck down and pooling her hair into the waves below. She kissed the ocean’s surface between her hands. “Don’t you think you should give up? You know, give your title to a bright, young buck,” he said. “There’s plenty of men who should be representing us, besides, it’d be a shame to waste such a pretty face.” Weeping Willow rose to her feet without a tremor. Unfolded, she stood tall and wide-shouldered, much taller and wider than the unicorn challenging her. Though her pristine and shimmering clothes covered most of her body, every part that kissed the air was sharp and defined, her muscles slick and her veins beating under her skin. The young unicorn stopped smiling. “I-it’s nothing personal, of course!” he said. Weeping Willow raised her head; her curved, translucent horn cutting into the darkness of the night sky. The young unicorn took a step back. Weeping Willow took a step forward. Her eyes showed through her hair; a pale, baby blue framed by her pink skin and white eyelashes.

“Listen, I think this is a mistake,” he said, grinning as wide as he could. She began to walk towards him. His smile disappeared. “Hey! I said this was a mistake!” Weeping Willow quickened her pace. The young unicorn yelped. “Stop! This isn’t funny anymore! I, I take back my challenge!” Weeping Willow sprinted, lowering her elegant head, hair fraying out behind her like a fan. “Please!” Weeping Willow’s horn tore through the young unicorn’s neck in one, clean rip. Bright, scarlet blood erupted from his neck, painting Weeping Willow’s white fur red. It covered her horn, giving it the appearance of a bone just ripped from a body. The unicorn’s body buckled onto the ocean stage, choking and kicking, fighting for air that would never break through the thickness of his blood. Weeping Willow looked down at the body. She scoffed.

“I warned you it’d be a waste of time,” she said, turning to the moon. Her deep voice breaking through his chokes, or sobs. She walked towards the moon, another quick victory hanging over her head.

A faint sound whistled among the waves behind her. Her ears flicked; it wasn’t like the spine-chilling call of the Aristocrats back home. It was softer. Harmonic. She turned around, her hands meeting at her stomach. An island sat amongst the waves a ways away, long and quiet. Palm trees rustled amongst each other, pushing back against the wind of the sea, defending the forest from the onslaught and the light of the moon. Her shoulders lifted at the sight of it, a hand raising to her chest. She glanced back at the moon; it was quiet. Perhaps the Aristocrats also figured it’d be a boring match. She then looked at the body; it had already begun to sink into the ocean, as all bodies do.

The whistle broke through the winds again, calling her attention. She began to walk towards the island as the many warnings luchadores and their challengers were always given began to echo in her head: Never set foot on anything but the ocean; you’ll never want to leave.

She sighed, but before she could turn around back towards the moon, a figure caught her eye. Someone stood on the beach, with a silhouette she’d never seen before. She squinted and took a couple steps towards the island, but almost as soon as she started, the figure retreated into the woods. She gasped, her ears perking straight up. Her lips pressed together, and, her heart pounding, started running towards the island.

As she ran farther and farther away from the moon, the waves began to lap and fold underneath each other in endless arrays. Eventually, her foot fell through the surface tension of the water. She yelped, the coolness of the water rushing up her thighs and soaking into her clothes and fur. She gasped at how the waves rushed her, her chest heaving hard. Then she began to laugh; she had the laugh of a tyrant. The blood of her challenger washed off in droves as she drug her hands through the water. She turned towards the forest and the beach. The silhouette had returned and was watching her with bright, yellow eyes. She cocked her head at it, at which the eyes widened and ducked behind the back of a palm tree. She snorted and covered her mouth, suppressing her laughter.

“I see you in there,” she said, calling out. “If you don’t come out, I’ll come to you.” A brown muzzle stuck out from behind the tree.

“If I come out, you’ll also kill me,” he said, his sharp, white teeth peeking through his lips. His whiskered snout twitched. Weeping Willow shifted her weight, unsure of herself.

“Well–” she paused, glancing around. “–No, why would I?”

“Everyone wants to kill everyone,” he said. “But I’ll die soon anyway.” Weeping Willow stifled a laugh.

“Then why do you care if I intend to kill you? Why are you trying to survive if you’ll die anyway? That seems redundant.” The creature threw his head out from behind the tree and looked at her, his own eyebrows furrowed. His face was rounded and soft, but he had markings down his muzzle that made it look defined and rigid.

“Because that’s what we do here, lady! Where are you from, the moon?!”

“Ah,” Weeping Willow said. She blinked a couple times, then nodded. “Yes.” The creature’s snout wrinkled and he scoffed.

“Yeah, and I’m from Mars!” The creature smiled, his eyes half-lidded. Weeping Willow cocked her head.

“Really? What are you doing here, then?” The creature stared at her for a second. He shook his head, his face blurring into his tan fur. He turned to duck back into the forest, but Weeping Willow sprinted at him. He let out a yelp as he was grabbed from the treeline and pushed onto the beach.

“Wait,” Weeping Willow said, her voice monotone and flat. She paused looking upon him; he was curled up on the sand, shaking and whimpering, holding his hands in front of his face. She rolled her eyes. “Why are so many of you so afraid to die? It’s annoying.”

“What is wrong with you?!” He said, his voice erupting into growls. Weeping Willow had heard nothing like it. He sighed, pushing himself up with his hands. “To be honest, I think I may be the last one of my kind.” Weeping Willow scoffed.

“So your kind is weak.”

“No!” The creature bared his teeth at her. Weeping Willow’s eyes widened; they were all sharp, lining his thin muzzle in weaponry. Her tongue rubbed against her own, and a feeling new to her began to broil deep down in her chest. She was envious. She thought about the amount of blood he could spill, how beautiful his face must be when covered in deep, saturated reds.

“Then why are you the last of your kind?”

“Because they hated me for my strength,” he said, a wicked smile framing his teeth. She got an idea.

“I have a proposal,” she said. His ears perked up. “If you give me a child, I will insure that not only will your kind live, but that it will become so strong those who hate you will never be able to defeat you.”

The creature stared at her.

“Fine,” he said. She smiled.

“Good,” she said. She paused for a moment. “And what have they named you?” The creature scoffed, his ears pinning back.

“I named myself Tasmain.”

–

“If you could choose your name then, what would it be?”

Black Rainbow tore out his horn from my lung, pulling it clean through. I yelled, but my voice had begun to waste away already. I choked, my mouth overflowing with the taste of iron. I fell to my knees, then to my hands. Black Rainbow stood above me, panting. He bent over and braced himself with his hands on his knees, his tail tucked in between his legs. He was shaking. I pushed on my wound, whimpering through gritted teeth as time began to blur.

“… Something strong, but softer sounding— I’ve always had a soft spot for Earth names.”

I heard Black Rainbow stumble over to me and kneel next to my head. I felt my body sink into the ocean a little, but he grabbed one of my horns and pulled my head up towards him. Heaving, I glanced up at him.

“Hmm, then how about—”

“Oh Bora,” he said, his voice low and easy. “You’re incredible, you know that?” I tried to speak, but he set my head back down on the ocean’s surface. He paused for a moment, tail wrapped around one of his legs. His breath was shaky and undetermined. With a deep breath he turned back towards the Moon. I twisted my head to watch him. Grabbing my side, I pushed myself up, struggling the whole way. I made my way to him, pushing into the soles of my shoes, hoping to keep them quiet.

“Oh Dante,” I said, tears and blood coating my face, sticking my fur into clumps. “You were the incredible one.”

He turned around, his face softening when he realized. Out of my pocket, I drew the horn of Weeping Willow, my mother, and tore it through his neck.

---

Marvin is a creative writer and illustrator pursuing world-wide domination and a complete control of the stock market; however, while he won’t need it, their back-up plans involve publishing graphic novels and short stories, a possible career in teaching, and starting a dinosaur-themed band called, “The Old Souls”. She’s currently graduating with her bachelor’s in English with a Creative Writing Emphasis, and will begin working on his Master’s in fall of 2026.