A Unicorn for Isabelle – Read and Print

By Rachel Dunstan Muller, copyright 2021

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Isabelle loved unicorns. She had storybooks full of unicorns. She had a painting of a unicorn above her bed. And every night when she went to sleep, she wrapped her arms around a toy unicorn named Aurora.

When Isabelle’s family visited the zoo, Isabelle could hardly contain her excitement. There were giraffes, and zebras, and wolves, and beavers. There were crocodiles and bears and ostriches and lemurs. There were baboons and tigers and even baby kangaroos. But there were no unicorns.

“Where are they, Mama?” said Isabelle. “Where are the unicorns?”

“Oh, Isabelle,” said her mama. “Unicorns aren’t real. You know that. They’re just pretend.”

Isabelle did not want to believe that what her mother said was true. Deep in her heart, she was sure that somehow, somewhere there was a real unicorn, a unicorn she could see, and hear, and maybe even ride.

At night as she lay in her bed waiting to fall asleep, Isabelle would hold Aurora close, and stroke her soft mane, and imagine that she was petting a real unicorn. Isabelle would close her eyes and in her mind she could see her unicorn clearly – a beautiful white horse with a pearly white horn in the center of its forehead. When she fell asleep, she would dream about her beautiful unicorn. In her dreams, the unicorn would lower its head and invite Isabelle to climb right onto its back. And then off they would ride across the night, with the wind streaming through her hair, until the stars finally began to fade, and the morning sun peeked over the edge of the world.

As Isabelle grew older, she got very good at drawing. She could draw just about anything: cats and dogs, elephants and alligators – even her friends and family. But do you know what Isabelle liked to draw more than anything? I bet you can guess. She loved drawing unicorns. She drew little unicorns and big unicorns, white unicorns and black unicorns; unicorns in fields, unicorns beside waterfalls, unicorns flying over rainbows.

For her birthday one year, Isabelle’s grandparents gave her some very special art supplies. There was a silver box of pencil crayons, in 72 colours. And there was a piece of thick paper, rolled up in a giant tube. When Isabelle unrolled that paper, it was so big, it covered the entire dining room table. For the next week no one could eat at that table; Isabelle was using it for her special project. Every day when she came home from school, she worked hard – drawing and colouring and drawing some more – until at last her masterpiece was finished. You guessed it – it was a picture of a unicorn. Isabelle felt very proud as her father helped her pin it up on one of her bedroom walls.

But this unicorn was different than any of the others she’d ever drawn. It was bigger, of course, because she’d had a bigger piece of paper. But it was more than that. The more she looked at this unicorn, the more it seemed to be looking back at her – with a twinkle in its eye.   

That same night something very strange happened. Something woke Isabelle in the middle of the night. There was moonlight streaming across her bed. In fact, it was so bright, that Isabelle couldn’t see properly at first. But her bedroom smelled different – like wildflowers and spring. And as Isabelle listened, she heard something – a soft whinny, like the sound a friendly horse makes. And when Isabelle’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, she saw that the walls of her room had disappeared. Her bed was now in the middle of a moonlit meadow, and there was a unicorn standing only a few steps away. Its white coat was sleek and shiny in the moonlight, and it had a pearly white horn on its head – just like the unicorn in her drawing.

As Isabelle stared in wonder, the unicorn bent its head towards her, as if to say, “Come; climb on my back.” And so she did.

She was nervous at first, but the unicorn was gentle. So Isabelle leaned down, and wrapped her arms around the unicorn’s neck. Then away they went, slowly at first, then faster, and faster, until it seemed like they were flying. On and on they galloped through the night, over a meadow, across a stream, and through the low hills on the other side. The wind was on her face and in her hair – a warm wind, a soft wind, that smelled like spring rain. On and on they went, until the stars finally began to fade, and the morning sun peeked over the edge of the world. Then the unicorn turned and carried Isabelle back to her bed.

When Isabelle woke a little later that morning, you can be sure the first thing she looked at when she opened her eyes was the drawing on the wall. And she was certain, absolutely certain, that she saw the unicorn wink.

The white unicorn never woke Isabelle again after that magical night. But Isabelle still dreams about it sometimes. In her dreams she holds on tight and gallops through the stars, on and on and on to the very edge of the world. 

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