One Horn to Rule Them All: A Purple Unicorn Anthology

by Lisa Mangum

  Christine pushed her pancakes aside and tore into the wrapping. The excessive tape actually made removing the paper a small challenge. When the last of the wrapping had torn away, a small purple unicorn with sparkling hair sat on the table before her. Christine stared at it in disbelief.

  “You like it?” her father asked.

  “My Little Pony, Twilight Sparkle Unicorn?” Christine said flatly, rolling her eyes again. “I’m ten now, Dad. I haven’t played with ponies since I was eight.”

  “Oh,” her father said, crestfallen.

  “I told you, dear.” Her mother shook her head. “Open the other one, honey.” She pushed the other present toward Christine. Paper tore again and revealed a large red and blue robot.

  “Optimus Prime!” Christine shouted with excitement.

  “Optimus … what?” Jim asked.

  “It’s a Transformer, dear. She watches the cartoon every Saturday.”

  “A Transformer?” He came around the table, abandoning his pancakes, and watched as Christine opened the box. He sat beside her and helped pull the pieces out of the packaging.

  “Your cakes are getting cold, Jim,” Diane said as she took what little was left of Christine’s breakfast to the sink. “You still haven’t said what you want to do today, Chris.”

  “Optimus Prime is the leader of the Autobots,” Christine explained to her father as they put together the toy. “I love it, Mom! He looks kinda like Xonometer!”

  Her mother smiled. “How about going to a movie?” she persisted.

  “Wait,” Christine said too late as her father pressed a button on the arm of the toy. A small piece of black plastic flew across the kitchen and bounced off the cabinet to her mother’s right.

  “It even shoots rockets!” Jim said excitedly.

  Diane sighed, shaking her head when Christine giggled.

  “Optimus protects the people of earth, like Xonometer,” Christine added. Her father’s hands withdrew from the toy, and she looked at him. Her smile vanished. Talk of the superhuman always seemed to change her father’s mood.

  “He’s just like everyone else you know.” Jim’s voice had a distant tone.

  “He’s a hero,” Christine said heatedly.

  “Maybe you could go to the museum, or see the new Xonometer tribute?” Diane suggested as she flipped a pancake, oblivious to the look on Jim’s face. His eyes strayed to the now-silent telephone.

  “You promised,” Christine’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  Her father’s eyes came back to hers, and he seemed to return from wherever it was he had gone. “Yes, yes I did. Today is your day.” Smiling, he patted her hand and moved back to his own chair. He began consuming the pancakes almost mechanically, clearly still distracted.

  Diane joined them at the table and drenched her pancakes in syrup. “I think that would be a great idea. You’ve hardly talked about anything other than Xonometer for the last year, Chris.”

  It was true. Kids everywhere were all about the superhuman. And why wouldn’t they be? He could create KEFs—Kinetic Energy Fields, dubbed “plasmight” by the corporations—that enabled him to control lightning and manipulate matter. Christine had even seen footage of him using his power to lift a carload of children to safety when the vehicle was hanging, probably soon to fall from a bridge. He was even trained by and succeeded Magnificent!, the first of all the Supers. If there was a kid who didn’t like Xonometer, Christine had never met them, or heard of them for that matter.

  But it wasn’t just his powers that fascinated Christine, there was something familiar about him. Maybe it was his voice, or the fact that he often refused payment for his deeds, but she felt she knew him and that they would be great friends if they ever met. A thought occurred to her: Optimus Prime reminded her of Xonometer. She could likely make the Autobot look like Xonometer with the right adjustments.

  “Did you forget to eat again yesterday, Jim?” Diane asked, staring at him quizzically.

  Christine giggled more as her father halted his inhalation of his pancakes.

  He swallowed the mouthful he was chewing. “No, no, I was just thinking.”

  “Well think about slowing down before you choke yourself.”

  Jim chuckled and took another, exaggeratedly slow, bite.

  Diane shook her head and looked at Christine. “Don’t encourage him.”

  Christine couldn’t help herself and continued laughing.

  “Why don’t you go get washed up and dressed so you two can go?”

  Christine clutched Optimus to her chest and hopped down from her chair.

  “Don’t forget your pony,” Diane said before taking a bite of her pancakes.

  Christine fetched the purple unicorn from the table with a roll of her eyes and a smile for her dad, which he returned, displaying a mouthful of pancake. “Ewwww!” Christine cried out, running from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.

  Standing Optimus Prime carefully on a shelf in perfect battle pose, and tossing the unicorn to her bedroom floor, she headed to the bathroom. She showered more quickly than usual and put on her favorite blue sundress that her parents had given her for Christmas the year before. It matched perfectly with the blue dress shoes they gave her for Hanukkah and the blue socks they gave her for the Winter Solstice. Christine didn’t really understand all the different holidays, but that didn’t bother her; they all came with presents.

  Normally she wore jeans and a shirt, but she wanted to look her best for Dad today. Of course, that didn’t mean she would go without her periodic table ball cap. Being a pharmacologist, her father smiled whenever he saw her wear it. She pulled it over her damp hair and settled it into place.

  After a glance in the mirror, she nodded to herself in satisfaction and ran to the stairs.

  “Don’t forget the sunscreen,” her mother said, handing Jim a small bottle at the bottom of the stairs.

  The phone rang. Christine stopped on the stairs, but didn’t take her eyes off her father. He stared at the phone as it rang again, then grinned and looked at her.

  “You ready to go, kiddo?”

  Christine tried to suppress a grin and nodded, continuing down the stairs as he opened the front door.

  The passenger door to the forest-green and wood-paneled Wagoneer groaned as he opened it for her. Inside, the jeep smelled of stale bread and dust, the foot area of the middle seat full of wadded-up fast-food wrappers and empty paper coffee cups.

  “Sorry, I haven’t had time to clean it out,” Jim said ruefully as he climbed into the driver’s seat. After a few stubborn splutters, the engine started up, and the radio blared with the voice of a newscaster reporting on what sounded like an accident. Jim quickly pushed in the Def Leppard tape sticking out of the deck.

  The drive into Denver was little more than an hour. They listened to Pyromania the whole way while Christine occasionally hung her arm out the window, letting her hand carve serpentine waves through the wind.

  The downtown area was overflowing with people, and they were forced to park a good distance from the memorial. Christine didn’t mind. They walked along the crowded Sixteenth Street mall, making note of the places they would stop by on the way back, in between his questions about school and her friends. She didn’t remember taking his hand, but didn’t mind once she realized she had.

  “Thanks, Dad,” she said, looking up to see him smiling at her. They took a right onto Wynkoop and continued on until they came to a street vendor.

  “Jim! How are you?” the vendor said as they approached.

  “I’m good, Ramesh. Yourself?”

  “I am doing great! I graduate next week,” Ramesh said with a proud grin.

  “That’s fantastic! You need to come by the lab in a few weeks then. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  Ramesh’s eyes widened. “You—you would do that for me?”

  Jim nodded, and Ramesh seemed at a loss for words. His attention eventually settled on Christine. “Your daughter?”r />
  “This is Christine.” He nodded again. “Today is her tenth birthday.”

  Ramesh clapped his hands together. “Her birthday!” Christine smiled shyly. “Well then, lunch is on me today!”

  “Thank you, Ramesh, but you don’t have to do that,” Jim protested, reaching for his wallet.

  “Nonsense, I want to,” Ramesh forestalled. “Sanjay, come help me.” A young boy who looked to be about the same age as Christine stood from a chair and joined them. “Meet my son. Sanjay, this nice man is my friend, Jim Gonzalez, and his daughter, Christine.”

  “Hello, Sanjay, it’s nice to meet you,” Jim said, reaching out a hand.

  Sanjay shook it. “Likewise, Mr. Gonzalez.” He turned to Christine and grinned. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she replied, returning his smile after a moment.

  “What will you have today?” Ramesh asked them.

  “I’ll have a bowl of the chicken masala with the curried rice,” Jim ordered.

  “So what are you doing for your birthday?” Sanjay asked Christine.

  She looked across the street to the memorial. The head of the black iron Xonometer tribute statue soared above the crowded plaza. “We’re going to the memorial.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “No.”

  “It’s the bomb,” he said, flashing her another smile. A cute smile.

  “Sanjay,” Ramesh said, holding out a bowl of light yellow rice. “Chicken masala. What would you like, Christine?”

  “I don’t know.” She liked what she smelled, but was unsure what to order.

  “How about the same as your father? And a cup of iced chai?”

  Christine nodded, smiling shyly.

  A man rushed past the cart, knocking Jim’s lunch from Sanjay’s hands. The man didn’t even notice what he had done.

  “Can you believe the nerve!” Ramesh shouted.

  A large group of people was gathering around an electronics store nearby. Many more rushed by the cart to join them.

  “What’s going on?” Christine asked, looking up at her father. She felt a sudden sense of panic. He seemed almost in a trance and started moving with the flow of people toward the store, pulling Christine along. Ramesh and Sanjay followed after them.

  “Can you turn it up?” someone shouted from the crowd and a store clerk obliged.

  “—the scene now, and there is still no word on the estimated forty miners trapped inside. Officials have sealed off the area as more collapses are imminent—”

  “Where is Xonometer?” another voice in the crowd shouted.

  “Oh no,” her father whispered.

  “Dad?” Christine said softly, slipping her hand into his.

  He looked down at her and gripped her hand tightly. He started back for the cart, Ramesh and Sanjay following.

  “Dad, what is it?”

  “I’m so sorry, Chris.”

  His tone scared her. She hadn’t ever seen him like this. Not that she could remember.

  “Ramesh, I must ask you the biggest favor.”

  “Yes. What do you need? What is wrong?”

  “I can’t explain now, but I need you to watch over Christine.”

  “Dad, no!” she protested.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I—There isn’t any time.”

  “For how long, Jim? I still have to run my cart—”

  “I’ll call her mother to come and pick her up. It shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”

  “No, Dad! You promised!” Christine began to cry.

  Jim knelt to look her in the eye. “I know I did, Chris. Someday, I hope you will understand, but I must go. Right now.”

  Tears flowed freely down Christine’s cheeks as he stood and turned away.

  “You promised!” she said again.

  Jim stopped and looked back at her. “I’ll make it up to you.” He turned and pushed his way through the crowd.

  “I hate you!” she shouted angrily at his back. Hesitating again, his back stiffened before he continued. “I hate you!” she repeated , to no avail.

  “Look!” a voice from the crowd gathered around the electronics store cried out. “It’s him! Xonometer is there!”

  Christine lost sight of her father and moved to sit at the base of a concrete planter with a shade tree growing out of it. She pulled her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and rested her head on them. Sanjay sat beside her.

  How could he do this to her? On her birthday of all days. Did he even love her anymore? Did he care at all? The questions only brought more tears, and she cried for what seemed an eternity until she went numb to everything around her.

  “Christine?” Her mother’s voice cut through the noise of the square.

  She raised her head and squinted against the bright afternoon light. Diane was hurrying toward her, deep concern on her face.

  “Oh, Christine!” her mother said gently. Christine rose to her feet and ran to her mother. Tears threatened to flow again as her emotions surged, mixed with the comfort of her mother’s embrace.

  “Ramesh?” Diane asked.

  “Yes, Mrs. Gonzalez.”

  “What happened?”

  “I—I’m not sure. Everything seemed fine until we saw the news about an accident. Then your husband looked … afraid, and he said he had to go.”

  Christine managed to regain her composure.

  “Thank you for watching Christine, Mr. Banerjee,” Diane said.

  “Of course, Mrs. Gonzalez. Is everything alright?”

  “I’m not sure. Let’s go, Chris.” She took Christine’s hand.

  They walked to the car her mother had parked a short distance away. Christine crawled into the backseat. Diane started the car and turned to look at her.

  “I’m so sorry, Chris …” Her words faded as Christine turned to face the back of the seat. “That bastard,” she muttered as she pulled out of the parking spot.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you go inside and rest, honey?” The question woke Christine from her slumber. Diane held the car door open, looking down at her with sadness.

  Christine wiped her cheek and peeled herself from the fake leather seat, saying nothing as she moved quietly inside and upstairs to her room. Upon opening the door she saw the Twilight Sparkle unicorn laying on its side, staring up at her, oblivious to her pain. Motionless, she stared back at it. The quirk of its indented smile seemed to mock her.

  Diane’s voice drifted up the stairs. “I don’t care what he’s doing.…What do you mean he isn’t there?” She was nearly shouting. “He left Christine in the square with a man she barely knows and called me to come and get her!”

  “He promised,” Christine whispered.

  “Of course it had something to do with work. It always has something to do with—” A door slammed, cutting off her mother’s words.

  Christine grabbed the unicorn roughly by its mane. Turning with purpose, she marched down the stairs and out into the garage where she collected lighter fluid and matches. The door that opened from the garage into the backyard banged against the wooden siding as she threw it open. Stalking to the makeshift fire pit, she opened the bottle of lighter fluid and doused the charred remains of the logs leftover from the last time she and her mother had used it, yet again without Dad.

  She struck a match and tossed it into the pit. Flames leaped toward the sky, and she backed away, startled. Regaining her resolve, she lifted the unicorn to eye level.

  “What good are promises?” she asked it. The lifeless painted eyes and indented smile still laughed at her.

  “Christine! What are you doing?” Diane shouted from the patio door.

  She flung the unicorn into the fire before her mother could stop her.

  “What on earth!” Diane shouted again and grabbed the grill tongs from where they hung next to the fire pit. “What were you thinking?” She gingerly plucked the smoldering unicorn from the fire.

  “I hate him!” Christine started crying.
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  Diane tossed the smoking toy onto the concrete patio and dropped the tongs. She frowned at Christine, seeming unsure what to do.

  The sobs only strengthened. “I hope he never comes home!”

  Diane knelt in front of Christine and hugged her tightly.

  Christine couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard she tried. She felt like she was six again, and she didn’t want to cry like a little kid, which made her even angrier, which made her cry harder.

  Arms wrapped around her, lifting her from the ground. She could hardly remember the last time her mom had picked her up. She didn’t care, and she let the sobs continue to wrack her body. It was so unfair, just so unfair. Mild awareness of being put into bed faded quickly as she cried herself to sleep while her mother gently caressed her hair.

  * * *

  She awoke to the sound of the TV turned up loud and rose, kicking aside the sheets on her parents’ bed. Diane stood in the living room with her arms crossed, watching the recorded aerial footage as the news anchor explained.

  “—here you can see Xonometer using his powers to enter the mine. And here, a little later, you can see when he reached the blockage in the mine, the side of the mountain bulging from what can only be Xonometer’s plasmight—My God, would you look at that? Wait, play that again for the folks at home.”

  A lone figure—little more than an ant from the camera’s altitude—entered the mine, even as the mountain above it undulated.

  “It looks like one of the emergency crew risked entering the mine as well. It takes true courage to go in there without a Super’s powers, folks. Oh my, this must be when it happened.”

  The side of the mountain suddenly buckled and caved in upon itself. Christine stopped next to her mother and watched the spectacle. Xonometer would be fine. He was always fine, even if a little banged up.

  “We can only hope that Xonometer was able to withstand the collapse, and maybe protect the miners as well. It’s at times like this that I like to ask for the thoughts and prayers of our viewers at home. Every little bit helps—Wait! We’re going live now to our eye in the sky with some new developments.”

  The picture returned to the aerial view only moments before the collapsed side of the mountain heaved upward, a wedge of crackling plasma pushing it to either side of the slope in a massive display of raw power. Miners began to emerge from the cloud of settling dust, most of them helping one another or limping with haste. Emergency workers swarmed around them with stretchers and offering aid.