Unicorn foal Amethyst slowly enters the glade, as if nervous of hidden dangers. His horn glows violet: it is made of crystal amethyst, making him a very rare foal indeed. It is not Gemstone Glade he fears, it is the words that whisper in his mind. The voices of distraught children, shivering in their beds, their tears forming in his own eyes.

Amethyst pauses at the fountain and drinks. The waters begin to glow purple, mirroring his horn.

He raises his head as a fairy flies round him. It is Moldavite Molly. “I have come to heal your tears!” she sings. “I am full of the magic of crystal moldavite, a master healer! Tell me, what would make you feel better?”

“The children,” whispers Amethyst. “So many unhappy children.”

“Then let me give them gifts! I can sneak in to rooms while they sleep. Just like this I can create magic!”

She claps her hands. Beneath her five tiny moldavite unicorn figurines appear.

“What are the most unhappy children called? Can you pick up their names? Let me find them!”

Amethyst thinks hard. “Charlie, Michael, Judith, Tina and Josie.”

“Let me go right now.”

Molly snaps her fingers and the unicorn figurines follow her, glowing in the end of day sunlight.

Amethyst stands alone, thoughts trembling in his mind. Will Molly find them?

Charlie turns over in bed, nightmares tearing his mind in two like a piece of paper thrown in the trash. Then he wakes. Something is different. He moves his hand and touches something cold. Putting on the light, he finds a tiny green unicorn figurine. He laughs, nightmares drifting away like dew in the sunlight. Happy, he clutches the unicorn to his chest and sleeps again. He dreams of unicorns and magic forest glades, and in his sleep he smiles.

Tina finds her figurine in the morning. Bemused, she holds it in her hands. Smiling, she later slips it in her pocket, suddenly feeling strong and ready to face the school bullies.

Michael loves his figurine. It stands on his bedside table every night. It is midnight and the house sleeps. The unicorn figurine begins to glow, emitting green light. Michael turns over, restless. Then he wakes up. Beside his bed is a full-size green unicorn. He gasps.

“I have come to life, and I am to take you on a journey.” The unicorn stares in to his eyes and speaks in his mind.

Michael smiles. “An adventure! Just like in a story book!”

“Jump on my back!” instructs the unicorn. “My name is Moldavite Mark. My body is made of magical crystal. But my heart is real.”

Michael closes his eyes as he places his hands in the unicorn’s mane, as soft as baby shampooed hair. Wind rustles his own hair, as he opens his eyes to a scene of clouds, racing past. Then they are descending. Beneath them, a quiet forest glade is cloaked in gentle moonlight, shimmering in the waters of a carved fountain.

“This is Gemstone Glade, hidden deep in a secret forest, a special place where you can find your soul and reignite your heart. Whenever you wish to visit here, just call for me at night and I will come for you.”

A small white unicorn with a purple horn rushes up to them. “You have come! One of the children is here! I can’t believe it!”

Michael spends an hour in heaven, or so it feels. He plays with fairies, drinks from the fountain and is bewitched by unicorn stories. “You should write a book!” he exclaims to Amethyst.

Moldavite Molly, who has joined them, points to a corner of the glade. “There is a magic notebook buried there!”

Michael digs his hands in the loose soil. Soon he finds it – a large leather notebook, strange symbols on its cover.

Amethyst begins to write with his horn, purple patterns appearing on the old and frayed paper. As he writes, a children’s author awakes from a deep slumber. There is a smile on Melissa’s sleepy face. She has just dreamt of an entire short novel. Grabbing a pencil and notepad, she frantically begins to write.

“Amethyst the Unicorn” becomes a bestseller. The real Amethyst is content, as he dreams of the children reading the book. Their happiness forms tears in his eyes, purple pinpoints of light that fall to the fountain waters beneath him. The Gemstone Glade fountain is always there, soaking up his tears, and turning them to rainbows. Amethyst sighs. It is time to write in the magic notebook once more.

(c) Can Stock Photo / Catmando