Serge nudged his office door shut and sighed. Another lecture done, one more to go on the tour. "What I wouldn't give for something fresh and green," he grumbled.
The tall, leggy blond tossed his hair from his eyes, grunting as he hit the hanging lampshade once again. "I will not do this again," he continued, complaining to the small, empty space. He missed the wild spaces, the trees, the meadows, his favorite pool with the tiny waterfall tumbling in.
"Gillenham can be the bloody ambassador to the Outside himself and finish this tour. I'm done." His bags were packed, the floor swept, window open to let the not so fresh air of the campus in. He ducked his head through the wide strap and shivered it across his shoulders.
The door opened with a shove and he left. He wouldn't answer another stupid question or pose for a picture. His hooves rang on the cobblestones as he left.
If the world wanted to see a unicorn

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AislingWeaver (joined about 11 years ago)
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Aisling Weaver has been plucking at the threads of dreams for decades but only recently has dared capture the senses with words. She writes from a tiny corner of the world known to few on stolen time and borrowed inspiration. By day chained to a desk when set free she delves the shadowy recesses where desire, need, lust and passion meet the spectrum of emotion.

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Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommerical-NoDerivs 3.0

genres

fiction humor

tags

humor fantasy unicorn

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