A Unicorn Will Kill You

By March 23, 2018Uncategorized

The most tragic consequence of being a unicorn is living in fear. The unicorn is the most highly sought after and most highly misunderstood creature on the planet. It lives in constant fear. For some reason, we depict them as gentle, effeminate horses with wings. The truth is, Unicorns are dangerous. They will either kill you, or they will destroy you. I’ll explain.

I have to set the record straight. I hope I don’t come off like a doomsday prophet. The reality is, only a handful of people die each year in unicorn related deaths. Most die in car crashes when they catch a glimpse of a unicorn screaming across the sky and forget to look back on the road. The rest die face-to-face with a unicorn, usually, with no witnesses.

Why deaths? The unicorn is beyond wild. It’s almost manic. You never see a unicorn calmly grazing in a peaceful meadow. They are most often spotted blazing across the sky. Unicorns are usually escaping capture or fleeing whatever minuscule thing spooked them. They don’t like to be still. They can’t be still. Stillness is death to a unicorn. You can watch a standing unicorns body atrophy right before your eyes. They pace, buck and kick. They snort and sniff the air. Their eyes search relentlessly for imaginary attackers. Their normal state is agitated.

Unicorns roam the skies alone looking for a mate. When a unicorn spends time in remote places its driven against its sense of protection, to populated areas. There, it will find a lone person to appear to. I’m not sure how exactly a unicorn knows who to appear to because they’re typically terrified of humans. I guess they just sense it — in the person. There’s not one “type” of person unicorns appear to. They don’t, however, have much use for kids and the elderly.

When a full-grown unicorn is in front of you it may seem like you’re looking at a colt. They’re small. 30% smaller than a horse. But, they weigh just as much — supposedly. No one has technically weighed a unicorn. They calculated it based on hoof prints in the soil at sightings. Not the ones when they land or take off. Those would obviously be deep. The ones when the thing is pacing back and forth.

Their beauty is remarkable. Blazing eyes and huge, feathered wings. Their bodies are lean and muscular. And the horn curling out of their foreheads. Oh no, unicorns do not have straight horns. All unicorn horns are slightly curved. They’re only about seven inches long too. Not a foot like you see in drawings. The horn is incredibly powerful-more on that later.

You’re in awe, but you also feel pity. Older unicorns bear fresh wounds and old scars. Some can be severe and very unsightly. The wings are always dirty, missing feathers, but still impressive when stretched out and shaken. The animal overall is breathtaking.

The first sight is your last chance to get away. There are three outcomes from an encounter with a unicorn and two are tragic. You will either be killed — gored and trampled, or you will be enlightened and healed but destroyed completely — both physically and emotionally. Or, the thing will spook and vanish like it was never there. The thought of riding a unicorn once you see on in person starts looking like suicide. You know others have done it but it seems impossible given how unstable the animal is.

You can feel its strength in the way it moves, its rapid breathing. It gives off an aura that is literally intoxicating. It’s like the rush of a narcotic. A unicorn dips its head and you see a faint smoke radiating from the horn. It flaps its huge wings nervously, fanning the toxin into your face. The surface of a unicorn horn has several thousand pores the toxin is released from. An interesting thing about the female unicorn, the toxin will heal anything. Stage four cancer, brain tumors, blindness-anything. The males toxin isn’t nearly as strong.

Healing is why the unicorn is hunted. It’s why they’re scarred. You can’t get it from a dead unicorn. It’s a living chemical reaction like body heat. Capturing a unicorn does no better. Remember, they don’t stand still. They need to fly. And, most importantly, the unicorn must choose to emit toxin. They can’t be forced.

The Unitox that’s out there on the market is completely fake. It’s no wonder it’s sold right along with rhino horn and tiger penis pills. At a price of $100K a gram, you can see why people risk selling fakes.

So, you’re standing there alone with a freaked out unicorn. It’s not all bad. People who have been gored to death by a unicorn died in ecstasy. The feeling is a combination of euphoria and erotic pleasure that overheats the body — hyperthermia. The body begins cooking itself in reaction to internal contact with the horn — unitox. Being gored happens when a person gets too close too quickly. It’s always fatal.

If you are patient and able to keep control of your mind, the unicorn will let you know when its time to come closer. What happens after this point is not decided by you. It is entirely up to the unicorn. Your actions become involuntary responses. You are awake in a dream. The unicorn is in total control-with the help of its toxin.

After several tense hours, you find yourself eye-to-eye with the creature. Unicorn eyes literally have fire burning in them. You can see the tiny orange flames and feel the warmth on your face. A unicorn sees you physically but senses your spirit. Timid or quiet people never see unicorns. Fighters, over-comers, feisty, rebellious, broken, tormented, hurting souls cry out to the universe for a visit from a unicorn. Unicorns hear these cries and follow them. They feed on waves of human emotional energy. One meal can satisfy for several years.

Gazing into the burning eyes of a unicorn without actually touching it is rare. Rarer still is what I’m about to cover next. It is one of the most transforming experiences in the universe. Riding a unicorn is an experience that actually changes a persons DNA. It heals the body and enlightens the mind. It restores hope and takes it away at the same time. A unicorn ride leaves you with zero emotional energy. You are completely numb. Often, it can ruin your capacity to generate or receive emotional energy from then on. That is how a ride can destroy you. All pleasure seems painful after riding a unicorn.

So, how do you actually ride a unicorn? You don’t climb onto the back of a unicorn like a horse. It dips its head between your legs and slides you onto its back. You have to tuck your legs into the space between the wings and the body. The rider’s hands will instinctively grab the mane which eerily braids itself around the fingers. There’s no getting off the unicorn until it says so.

Flying on a unicorn lasts less than 20 seconds from beginning to end, yet it creates the experiences of 20 years of deep reflection — depending on how you’ve lived your life up to the moment its hoofs leave the dirt. Unicorns don’t touch asphalt. This is why more people don’t see them. The world is being covered with asphalt and cement. Back to the reflection-this is where the emotional energy takes place. A unicorn is not a circus ride. It’s not a rollercoaster. It’s like riding a flying polygraph test that scratches the results on your soul.

Flying on a unicorn is omni-dimensional. It is beyond time. It is the constant feeling of ascension, physically and mentally. Questions are answered, doors closed, old wounds ripped open, truth tears at you like an icy wind at your face. The unicorn heaves its broad wings and its legs gallop, pulling against the sky. Your fingers are locked in and your legs are pinned. A small amount of Unitox drifts into your face to keep you sedated.

The path is never straight. The ride isn’t smooth. The rider feels the desperation in the animal — pulling, flapping, turning and twisting. The unicorn flies on its side, upside down. It jerks and shudders through the air like a hummingbird. No sober person could withstand a ride without emptying their stomach in the first few seconds.

The ride lasts until the unicorn has completely devoured every bit of emotional energy the rider has. A deep sleep comes over the rider. The unicorn dips a knee and spills the sleeping rider onto the ground like a baby drops an empty bottle. There is no poetic goodbye. The unicorn turns and jumps into the sky kicking dirt on the rider unknowingly. When the rider awakens there is unsureness. Was it a dream? Why am I dizzy, nauseous, exhausted?

After a 20-30 second unicorn ride, the rider is in impeccable health — if he or she has ridden a female. But, the rider doesn’t know how to feel. Producing an emotion is as foreign as riding a freaking unicorn. Emotions happened, but now you can’t remember how they’re made. The best a someone can hope for is to learn to pretend. Pretend to laugh, pretend to smile, pretend to be sad. It’s not a very fulfilling life but all riders live it out to its end. They never can muster enough passion or emotion to end their lives — but the thought echoes in their heads.

How much did I rain on your parade? You can be a bunch of pouty little boys and girls or you can face reality. Unicorns are nothing like they’re made out to be. They’re more like killer dragons than mythical, docile, horned-horses. Avoiding them altogether is your best option. They can heal you, but it would be better to suffer your illness than become an emotional zombie. If you see a unicorn, don’t lose yourself for a drunken, 20-second ride that steals your soul. Turn and run!

 
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