The Gemstone Glade Christmas tree glistens under the new moon. Its angel ornaments sing together, a song for tomorrow, a prayer for better times.

One of the angels, Peace, has an important task to do. Slowly she flies in to the night sky, leaving Gemstone Glade far behind.

Soon she soars high over Planet Earth, sleeping below this cold December night. She flies above towns and villages, singing softly, waving her snow quartz wand. As she passes, tiny snow unicorns appear in the gardens and fields beneath, frosted messages of hope for a better tomorrow.

The unicorns are still as snow, but then they begin to neigh. They have come alive. All over the Northern world, tiny unicorns shrug off snow and let their quartz bodies shine. Children wake and watch from their windows. Their Christmas wishes have come true. Unicorns are real!

The baby unicorns begin to run, charging in to the night with a mission. Through every town, in every street, unicorns converge. It is time to make a sign.

The next morning, in every city centre, from Trafalgar Square to Place de la Concorde to Times Square, tiny unicorns are arranged to create one word: HOPE.

The world media goes in to overdrive. As the internet buzzes with virtual screams, the unicorns as one sprout wings and fly in to the sky. They accompany some aeroplanes, children squealing with delight within. Then they fly into the clouds and disappear, a mystery as short as sweet.

They are gone, but the message remains: HOPE.

Peace has returned to the Gemstone Glade tree, sitting happily on a branch, mute to the mystery that has unfolded. Hope is in the Gemstone Glade air, as Christmas claims this magic forest glade in its frosty arms. Peace smiles as it begins to snow.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay