Chapter 116: Chapter 116

Rainbow light glitters on the bright blue and green grasses around me, which seem to pop left and right as they too follow the motions of the miller’s song. Everything here is bound to it. Everything here has to be beautiful. The grass. The flowers. The trees. Myself. Everything. I keep dancing and skipping down the way, not because I really want to, but because the unicorn knows it has to. It knows that this place…

 

  Stopping myself mid-thought before I can think something that isn’t beautiful, I look at the bright, smiling, and dancing flowers all around me, who bob up and down to the melody ringing out across the entire floor. It’s a strange tune. It is very much simple and short and repeats itself over and over and over and over. Each pass taking maybe a minute at most. The sound is loud and ever-present, it doesn’t matter where you are on the floor, it always has the same pitch and always sounds just as loud. That’s what the miller does, he plays his beautiful song as long as it's day, from morning till night he plays his song on the calliope. As the mill in the distance turns and grinds away.

 

  Want to know something beautiful, friend? There is no night. It is always the same time of day here. It’s always beautiful. So the song never stops. It never stops. I bob up and down mimicking the flowers around. A bright smile plastered on my face.

 

“Why hello, Mr. Unicorn!” says a flower next to me, dancing from side to side.

 

  “Beautiful day, Misses Buttercup!” I say to the other large, talking flower. There are hundreds of them here. Thousands. All of them are beautiful. All of them have to be. We all dance together under the rainbow. Glistening light sparkles off of my white-coat, the shimmer radiating all around me. The others around her listen in to our conversation, they watch. A thousand prying eyes, just waiting for any mistake or slip—up to be made. For anything that isn’t perfect. That isn’t beautiful.

 

“Say! You wouldn’t be happening to be on your way to the miller, would you?” She asks, snapping her head from side to side as she changes her dance.

 

“Why yes I am, Misses Buttercup! It’s such a beautiful day today, so I thought I would pay him a visit!” I answer with a bright smile.

 

“Why, what a beautiful idea! May I ask you a favor, dear Mr. Unicorn?” she asks, raising her petals to her cheeks as she snaps from side to side.

 

  “Of course Misses Buttercup! Anything for such a pulchritudinous blossom as yourself!” I say, switching my dance now too to snap from side to side in quick popping motions. My mane shoots sparkles and glitter out of itself with each movement.

 

“Oh my, Mr. Unicorn!” She turns and giggles and blushes as well, her old cheeks turning a rosy pink.

 

“May I accompany you to see the miller? I do think it’s time that I saw the wonderful man myself!” she says, shaking out a dazzling shimmer of morning dew from her petals.

 

  “What a perfectly beautiful suggestion! Walking the way will be much more lovely together! Yes! Please, I would love that Misses Buttercup!” I say, lowering myself down for her to climb on. But even as I sink down to my knees I never stop bobbing, I never stop dancing, I never stop being beautiful. They are all just waiting for me to slip up. For anyone to slip up. I lean my head over towards her, my mane hanging down to obscure her roots as she pulls herself up and out of the ground. It would be inappropriate if anyone saw them. It wouldn’t be beautiful.

 

  Climbing up, she holds onto the back of my neck with her leaves, her roots hidden away beneath my white-coat and mauve mane as I rise back up again, majestically, with her on my back.

 

“Why, what a beautiful view it is from up here, Mr. Unicorn!”

 

“It is much less beautiful now that I can’t see you anymore, Misses Buttercup!” I reply.

 

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“Oh my!” she giggles behind me.

 

  “Hold on!” I say and begin my little jig again as I prance my way down the exquisitely made stone-path. This is me, guy. I’m a dancing unicorn with an old-lady flower on its back underneath the light of an eternally shining rainbow. What a lovely day! I can feel the dungeon-master watching me now. I hope they feel the same deep shame that I feel right now. But I know that they aren’t. I know that they’re sitting there with a drink, watching in pride at their creation come to life. At this hell. This is the worst floor of the dungeon. Not worst in design, which while also true, isn’t what I mean.

 

No. This is the cruelest floor of the dungeon. Eternal undeath and suffering and angst and torture are nothing compared to this. To this nightmare.

 

  I hum and dance my lovely jig as we keep walking down the way, the flowers begin to wane and the trees begin to surround us now as we enter the grove. They too dance and sway. Where is the hero-party? Please. Somebody come and kill me. End this nightmare. A voice rings out from above as I enter the small grove.

 

“Friends! Friends!” calls a voice out from above.

 

We both look at the blue-bird above, in the trees sitting in an empty nest.

 

“Why hello there Mr. Blue-bird!” I neigh. “What a beautiful day it is today!”

 

“Why yes, Mr. Unicorn! Good day, Misses Buttercup! Say, are you two on your way to the miller’s?” he asks curiously.

 

Misses buttercup answers. “Why yes we are, Mr. Blue-bird! Would you like to join us?”

 

  “Why yes, if I may, that would be absolutely delightful!” says the bird shuffling from side to side around in his empty nest. He flies down in a graceful arc and lands on my back, just behind Misses Buttercup. I didn’t agree to this, but to argue wouldn’t be beautiful.

 

  “Hold on tight!” I say as I continue back into motion, as I continue dancing down the way with the flower and the blue-bird on my back. Out of the corner of my eye, as I turn my head during my dance I look at the empty nest. It used to be full once.

 

“What a beautiful forest!” I say to cover my tracks, metaphorically speaking.

 

“Yes!” says Misses Flower, shaking to the rhythm together with me.

 

“Yes!” says Mr. Blue-bird, whistling along with the melody of the miller, as he too bobs up and down.

 

 

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