The dusty fox

A dusty black runt of a fox limped along a lonely desert highway.

Occasionally cars would pass, but no one stopped.

“Look mom, a fox!”, said a boy, his hands up against the car windows, “I think he’s hurt! Can we stop!? Can we?”

His mother gave no signs of slowing, “Oh honey, we can’t stop stop for every mangy animal we see. That dirty fox has nothing to give us but a disease.”

And so it was in similar fashion that each and every car passed that day.

Until as the light faded and the sun touched the horizon, a lone biker on a Harley Davidson rounded a corner and saw the fox limping along the highway.

He stopped and got off his bike. He was poor and his bike was one of the few remaining possessions he owned.

The fox watched from a distance as the man pulled a rolled up blanket off his bike and placed it unraveled on some dry desert grass.

Then he pulled out a small tin cup, placed it on the blanket, filled it with the last of his water, and then walked back to his bike and waited as a crow cawed from a nearby saguaro.

The fox limped with caution to the blanket and then crawled to the cup.

The biker sat and watched. Wondering how far he’d have to drive to find water.

The fox drank.

And transformed.

Because it wasn’t a small black fox anymore. It was a unicorn.

And it turned to the man on the bike and said, “I thank you for your kindness. You stopped and offered me what you had to give, although you knew I had nothing to give you in return.”

The man, thinking he must be dreaming replied, “But you did have something to give. The act of giving you kindness was a reward in itself. It made me feel better to think I could do something for you.”

“Although that is true, I do have something to offer you…”

And as the last sliver of sun dropped off the horizon, the unicorn granted the man a wish.


And that’s the gist of the dream I woke up from this morning. O_o

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