The Glass Unicorn, Ch. 1

The winter sun peaked out from behind the heavy clouds and offered its light to the window, filling the dormitory room with the illusion of warmth and offering some relief from the ever-cold temperatures that permeated every building on campus. Still, Trista shivered and pulled her blankets up to her chin, burrowing deeper into the soft down mattress pad as the sun once again slid behind the clouds that threatened to release their avalanche of snow any second. On the other side of the room, Melissa groaned and shifted. Trista knew she would be waking up soon.

Bracing herself for the cold she knew would hit her arm when she unwrapped it from the warmth of the cocoon she had wound throughout the night, Trista reached across to her desk and felt for the soft, engraved leather of her grandfather's journal. Her fingers found the warm leather and traced the dancing Kirin. She slid her fingers under the spine and brought the journal too her, letting out a small sigh.

She had nearly memorized the contents of the journal she had read through it so many times looking for something hidden within the detailed descriptions of the butterflies and Japanese flower gardens. Once or twice she thought she'd found something promising, but when she followed up with more research of her own, she was left disappointed. Now the journal remained a simple source of comfort and fancy and she enjoyed looking at the pages for her grandfather's beautiful drawings. As she gently flipped through the pages, she paused to trace a sketch of a particularly bright lavender butterfly with her finger. She caressed the page with the tip of her finger, imagining the softness of the butterfly's scaly wing and trying to picture the florescent shine of the wing in the sun. Her grandfather had once seen these beautiful creatures. He had watched them flutter around his head and had breathed in the sweet scent of the flowers as he studied these butterflies. They had enchanted him with their bright, glittering wings and intricate dances.

"Tris?" Melissa moaned, breaking Trista out of her reverie.

"Morning, Mel," Trista responded quietly.

"Is it snowing?"

"Mel, we're in Vermont, what do you think?" Trista asked with a smirk as she rolled over on her bed to face her roommate.

Mel groaned again, "Why did I leave Florida for this school? It's always warm down there."

"Because you wanted to experience a different way of life," Trista laughed again. "I do believe you've found it."
"Sometimes I don't know what I was thinking," Mel said with a roll of her eyes as she shifted herself into a sitting position. "Hey! Do you want to go for a hike today?"

"First she complains about it being cold and snowy all the time. Now she wants to go out and spend her day in it," Trista teased.

"Might as well make the most of it!" Mel said enthusiastically as she pulled on her bathrobe. "I'm going to go get some breakfast. You want anything?"

"A chocolate muffin if they're not all gone. Thanks, Mel."

Mel nodded with a smile as she left the room, mumbling to herself something about transferring back to Miami. Trista knew she never would though. As much as Mel complained about the cold, she had truly grown to love it and was constantly dazzled by the sparkle of a fresh layer of snow.

The two girls had developed a quick friendship when the semester had started. Mel had been fascinated with Trista's grandfather's butterfly collection and research and treasured the journal in much the same way. She was the first person that Trista had shared the journal with, previously unwilling to share the secret of it with anyone, including her mother—perhaps especially her mother. And she hadn't had any close friends in high school with whom she could share its stories. No one would have appreciated it anyway.

Mel had found the journal by accident a couple of weeks into the semester. She was searching for Trista's calculator when she came across the leather bound book. The beauty and intricacy of the engraving had caught her eye immediately. Later that evening, she had asked Trista about it. Trista ended up telling her all about her grandfather's research and his trip to Japan. Without realizing what she was doing, she began telling Mel about her father's disappearance, his research, and the glass unicorn that had enchanted her childhood. When Mel had asked about the unicorn, she had been disappointed to find that Trista had left it back home in Virginia for safekeeping. "I'll bring it back after Thanksgiving," she promised, pleased to see Mel's eyes light up. When she had, Mel had been dazzled by it's gleam. They set him on the window ledge where he would catch the light, just like he had in Trista's room at home. Even in the dull Vermont winter light, he shone brightly.

Trista glanced over at the unicorn, smiled, then snuggled deeper into her blankets and returned her gaze to the journal, which still lay open to the lavender butterfly. She sighed and closed her eyes, imagining the sun bathing her in its light and butterflies dancing all around her, sparkling like gems.

Opening her eyes, Trista shifted her gaze to the shadow boxes hanging by her bed. She had brought a few cases of her grandfather's butterfly collection with her when she had moved up to the college in August. Her mother was more than glad to have them taken out of the kitchen, and her grandmother liked the idea of Trista keeping them with her. She understood how to tend the butterflies, apparently. Trista chuckled a little at the thought of her grandmother. Her quirks seemed to increase daily and she drove her daughter crazy. But Trista's mother enjoyed the company, especially now that her own daughter had left for college.

"I wish I could figure out what is so fantastic about these butterflies. There is something unusual about them. Even from these drawings, I can tell," Trista whispered to herself.

"Still obsessing over the butterflies?" Mel teased when she returned to the room.

Trista sat up and laughed. She knew Mel thought she was a little too obsessed, but appreciated Trista for it. She had her own obsessions with fractals, so Trista knew she could never take Mel's jabs seriously.

"What else?"

"It's freezing out!" Mel stomped her boots on the doormat. "Here's your muffin," she said as she tossed it to Trista.

"Thanks," Trista responded as the unwrapped the napkins, revealing the moist chocolate treasure.

"You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but the way that unicorn shines even when the sun doesn't is kind of spooky."

"I used to think that too," Trista confided, "but I got used to it over the years. It's what I love most about the glass. Especially when the light hits his face just right, he looks so expressive and alive."

"Maybe he is? Maybe the soul of an ancient unicorn is trapped in there," Mel said with a small smile.

"It's probably just very well polished and blown glass, nothing more."

Trista sighed. She had once believed that, but had convinced herself of the impossibility of that notion.  Although she never lost her love for the fantastical, she had grown up in her last two years of high school. She had let go of much of the research she had started, though she occasionally returned to it when she was in need of comfort or when an idea struck her in a particular way. She always ended up returning to the Japanese gardens in her grandfather's journal. As much as she loved the journal, it had started to feel like a dead end. However, whenever she let her eyes linger on the glass unicorn, she felt that same pull to the research.

"Hey, Tris, how about that walk?" Mel asked eagerly.

Trista smiled. "Sure," she said as she licked the last bit of chocolate off her fingers.

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"There's something so inherently peaceful about the snow," Trista said, her voice barely above a whisper. It seemed wrong to speak too loudly in the quiet of the morning woods.

"If only it weren't so cold," Mel complained with a hint of a smile.

"You're the one who was so eager to go out for a hike today," Trista responded, growing slightly irritated at her friend's whining.

"Well, we've been cooped up in that dorm room for the past couple of weeks and haven't really gone anywhere other than class. It's just nice to get out and off the main campus for a while," Mel stated. "Besides," she added with a smile and playful push to Trista's arm, "you know I secretly love the snow."

Trista smiled back and laughed, returning Mel's push with one of her own. The two girls traded shoves before Trista took off at an awkward run, plowing through the deep snow toward the meadow at the end of the path. Laughing, Mel followed, scooping up a handful of snow in the process and forming it into a round ball. She delighted in the scream that escaped Trista's mouth when the snowball hit her square in the back. Trista snatched up a clump of snow and, spinning around, volleyed back at Mel who dodged nimbly.

Their laughter rang up from the meadow, chiming like winter birds. Trista couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard or so sincerely. The experience was refreshing.

Trista and Mel continued frolicking until, breathless, they collapsed into the deep snow, sinking into the white cushion. Trista let out a sigh and looked over at her friend—her first real friend since her father had disappeared. Mel smiled at Trista.

"See, I knew it would do you good to get out of that dorm. You've done nothing but study and read that journal lately. You needed the break."

Trista returned her smile. "You're right," she admitted. "Sometimes I just get so caught up in my studies that I forget that there's actually a world out here," she said with a sad laugh.

"You're dedicated. That's a good thing. But you can't forget to live. Besides, sometimes it's best to walk away from a problem when you're really stuck. Clear your head. It helps."

"So you don't think I'm crazy? You know, still researching those butterflies and that glass unicorn?" Trista asked cautiously.

"Crazy? Of course I think you're crazy? I don't get the connection between the two, other than your grandparents. You don't even know if the unicorn is from Japan. If it were a glass Kirin, maybe. But it's a typical European unicorn. So yes, I think you're crazy. But I think it helps you feel close to your father. You never found out what happened to him, so you never got closure of any kind. I think this helps you."

Trista's smile disappeared as she looked at Mel. "I'm sorry if mentioning your father upset you, Tris. I didn't mean to. It's just that…Well, maybe you're so intent on this research because you're trying to hold on to that part of your father."

"You're probably right. You know how my mother tried to make me stop obsessing when I was in high school. I couldn't. Even if I had wanted to."

"I may think you're crazy, but I don't think you should stop. I mean, look at it this way. Maybe there is a connection. If there is, then you could end up discovering something really cool. Perhaps some really cool part of ancient history. You told me that your grandfather wrote that those gardens had to be thousands of years old. And, even if you don't, you'll be keeping your father's legacy alive. I know he would appreciate that, wherever he may be," Mel smiled again. "From what you've told me about him, you definitely sound like his daughter.

Trista laughed. "I definitely am. But, Mel, I can't help but feel like no matter how many resources I uncover or how many books I read, I'm never going to figure out what I'm looking for. It's like there's some force compelling me to do this research, and I'm not entirely in control of it. If there was some definite answer, I think I should have found it by now."

"Your father?"

"What?"

"Is it your father? Guiding you?"

"Mel, I don't know. When I was in high school, that's what I used to think. Or at least, I would tell myself that to help make sense of the whole thing. I would talk to him, sometimes, asking for his help. When I found something that seemed useful, I would thank him. But it was probably just coincidence. Or genetics. Apparently he used to be an amazing problem solver. He could always get his hands on the information he needed. I probably just inherited that from him."

"That's possible. But from the way this research won't let you go, it seems like something more. Anyway, if you stopped, I don't think I'd know what I'd do with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trista asked, laughing freely.

"You never go out or hang out with other people because you spend your weekends researching. If you stopped, you'd have to come to parties with me. I couldn't leave you alone in the dorm with nothing to do. And I certainly couldn't let you out to wander the campus on Friday and Saturday nights!" Mel gave Trista one of her teasing smiles.

"Mel! I'm not that helpless."

"Sure you're not," Mel continued to tease.

"Ok, let's see, shall we? Tonight, I'll go to that party with you. We'll see who really needs looking after," Trista responding with a sly wink.

"What? You think I'm a troublemaker? Me?" Mel asked with feigned innocence.

"I guess we'll find out who the real troublemaker is tonight, won't we?"

"Tris, if I never accomplish anything in my life, let it be knowing that convincing you to go out to a party on a Saturday night is the most important thing I ever did."

"Convince me? You didn't convince me. I decided on my own!" Trista protested.

"I'll let you keep thinking that," Mel said as she shoved snow into Trista's face and laughed.

Trista joined in laughing, nervous and excited about the prospect of tonight's party. Her first semester was almost over. Exams were in two weeks, and she had yet to go anywhere on the weekends. Mel was right. It would be good for her. She could step away from her research for a couple of days. She could let her mind rest and then get back to it, refreshed and ready to discover whatever it was that she was meant to discover.

Mel jumped up suddenly. "If we're going to that party, we've got to get you ready. We need to find you clothes and do your make-up and hair! This is going to be so much fun! I finally get to dress you up!"

"Mel, I'm not a doll!" Trista laughed.

"Tonight, you're my doll," Mel responded as she helped Trista to her feet. "Come on, let's go back and make some hot chocolate. We can talk about what you're going to wear."

Trista sighed. She should have known. But she would indulge Mel. She was used to dressing up her younger sisters at home, and Trista hadn't given her any good opportunities since the semester started.

As the girls walked back through the woods, Trista let her eyes wander to the dense trees. This place was beautiful, almost magical. "If unicorns existed, they would live here, in these woods."

"Would they?" Mel questioned.

"Sure. It's isolated. The trees are densely packed. Most of the college kids leave these woods alone. It's protected because it's owned by the university. It's beautiful. Why wouldn't they choose this place?"

"Because you'd find them. And you're crazy," Mel retorted with an easy laugh.

Trista chuckled. But she couldn't chase the idea from her mind. She continued staring into the dense woods, lit by the few rays of sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. A sudden movement caught her eye, and she stopped.

"Tris?" Mel questioned when she realized her roommate wasn't right behind her.

"Yea," Trista said quietly as she hurried to catch up. "I just thought I saw something."

"A unicorn?" Mel joked.

Trista smiled cautiously and shrugged. "It was probably just a deer."

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