Stranger in the Woods

Chapter 13

I was eventually taken to the hospital where I rested for a number of days.  I assume I did not satisfy my questioning for some more men from what turned out to be the military came to speak to me.  Soon after some reporter friends visited and tried to get a story, but I couldn’t talk too much.  Indeed, I just kept the conversation general.  It wasn't too hard to do.  I could only stare ahead and speak as if from a stupor.  I could hear them ask about the unicorn, but the word did not seem to register with me.  Eventually I was left alone.  I assumed that they found others who would give them answers that they wanted to hear.

There are moments that I wish that I could erase or repeat and choose a different path.  However, for whatever reason, the paths our lives stroll down are never allowed to be revisited again in their original pristine condition.  They are always tainted by the decisions of the most haunting word that I know, the past.  

The single event that I would not have done had I the benefit of futuristic hindsight would have been telling Ron Green about the Unicorn.  But I did.  The two specimens where taken by the military and examined.  Although many universities and scientists requested opportunities to view the unicorns the military refused all requests to see the specimens.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps the creatures instilled in them a fear that they did not want to spread.  Some videos had reportedly been obtained by a private filmmaker and released, but they were claimed to be fake.  However, when I viewed them I couldn’t help but notice some markings that were consistent with the real unicorns.  I never watched the film again and never spoke about my feelings concerning it to anybody.  

I also never did speak to Ron or Milo again.  I did try to call Milo, but he never returned my call.  I had heard that he is still a practicing veterinarian, but Ron has moved on from the paper and now hosts a midday talk show on a radio station in West Virginia.  I’ve never listened to it though.  Eventually, I moved away from the Ohio Valley to a place called Corolla, where there are wild horses.

I have learned to spend my days walking along the beach and staring out into the ocean.  I enjoy the warm wind blowing on my face and how the roar of the ocean drowns out all the sounds of the world.  It lets me focus on my memory of those hoof beats in the cold woods of the Ohio Valley.  

I stand with my eyes closed until the cool morning ocean water circles my feet and I slowly begin to sink into the thick sand.  I think of the cold ground and the horn of the unicorn in my back until the only real sounds I hear are the sea gulls, the waves, and the wild horses running up the dunes.