Yellow Unicorn

Fantasy

There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child.

There are seven million. - Walt Streightiff

I love the creativity and incredible genius that little hands can bring into being.

Just take a look at this drawing by First Granddaughter.

I Drew A Yellow Unicorn. First Granddaughter. 2020.

It invites you to look up the sky where three furry fish are flying upside-down and bees as big as basketballs are buzzing through.

Underneath, the magic and mystery of an octopus dressed in plaid, a carrot flying a kite, and a camel wearing a crown come to life. To their right, a green rhinoceros floats on the breeze.

Her vision is a colorful paradise where miniature, blue spaghetti trees grow and penguins wear pajamas.

It is a world filled with a marching caravan of a purple-spotted pig, a yellow polka-dotted unicorn, and a seven-legged elephant walking on the tips of its toes.

What a view!

Her teacher, shown to the right of the unicorn, applauds the imaginative artwork, It's beautiful!

First Granddaughter said her teacher was right.

I agree.

It's a masterpiece in which the heart of an artist pulses with vibrancy and exuberance. It's a joyous invitation to view ordinary things around us with a complete suspension of disbelief and eyes wide with awe.

I know days ahead can be busy. Everything is kind of crumbling in front of our eyes. But my wish for us is a moment to unwind. 

   To behold the miracle of the earth wobbling on elephant back.

   To indulge our curiosity and spin a ghoulish tale.

   To be mesmerized by a gyrating snake.

   To get lost in the garden of our mind with the wonder of a child.

Whirling Cobra

Fantasy

The buzz in Marrakech's central square was like the humming of flies.

A crowd of onlookers had begun to gather, happy to form a  circle around the commotion - that of a turbaned snake charmer wearing earrings and a necklace of beads. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of a closed basket.

I stared hypnotized, as if I was soon going to be a witness to a secret ritual, because I knew what was in the basket.

He removed the lid, then began playing a flute-like instrument made from a pungi gourd. The music struck up softly at first. There was something comfortable, almost soothing about it. Then full and high, it started vibrating in the air. 

As if drawn by the tune, a cobra, extending its hood, eventually emerged from the container. It swirled about, its tongue flicking and nudging.

I was swept away.

It was as if I had fallen asleep in between two moments and awakened inside a dream. 

I allowed myself to slide into the fantasy. 

For now, this was my enchanted moment - full of spells and smell of sandalwood and dreams and magic.

And a whirling cobra.

Haunted House

Fantasy

The world is but a canvas to the imagination. - Thoreau

It was our ultimate fantasy. Getting the crap scared out of us.

That was why Third Brother and I made up this story about the Ancheta family who lived in the Spanish-style house from across our home on Fountain Street.

It went like this.

Dona Cheta and her family were long gone. All but one. She had turned into a witch.

Their great house in the center of the garden had been empty for a great while. Shunned by people of the neighborhood. No one ever went near it, either by day or night. 

Because.It.Is.Haunted. 

One time when Mum wasn't looking, we crossed the street and entered through the open side door of the black wrought-iron fence to watch for ghosts within. Of course, there was nothing to see because all the windows had bars and opaque glass panes. 

Except for one small window of a room that was probably the chauffeur's through which, very slowly, we leaned forward to take a peek.

Yes, we saw apparitions of the dead hiding behind the curtain. Beyond, the sala was cold and bare of furniture, the surroundings having the eerie atmosphere of a place in which death had recently occurred. Chills were running up our spine.

Thus, we barely noticed when someone came from out the front narra door, like a ghost debating whether to vanish.

She did not.

In an instance, she hovered over us. The witch! 

Stiffening her shoulders, she narrowed her gaze, her thick face twisting to a scowl. Dyaskeng mga bata! What are you up to, kids?

She was anxiously tapping a tsinela-clad foot, letting out audible sighs of annoyance.

I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to cry, but I could feel a lump in the back of my throat like I'd swallowed a sweet potato whole. Any second, I felt like my heart was going to rocket right out of my chest.

Yikes! How did we get into this mess? It was our fantasy and damned curiosity that got us into this trouble, that was what it was.

Patawad po. So sorry. Our voices suddently sounded squeaky, the tremulous voice of children we were trying not to be. We backed out slowly, then ran the hell out of there.

Just as we gained asylum within our yard, I looked back.

The darkening sky had cast the witch's face in shadow making her appear mysterious, unknowable.

When The World Was Flat

Fantasy

When someone told me I lived in a fantasy land,

I nearly fell off my unicorn. - Anonymous

Life right now seems to be an endless stretch of misery punctuated by take-out food and the occasional crisis or amusing curiosity. That's why I enjoy fantasy.

You know.

When you escape into something far more extreme than reality or normality.

When you imagine things that are more beautiful and more wondrous.

So how about this for a bit of whimsy? It's a story I heard and loved as a child. 

It went something like this.

When the world was young, like maybe in prehistoric times, it used to be flat. It was supported by four giant elephants which stood on the back of an even larger turtle. 

Can you even?

The turtle swam through space so it needed no further support.

Just imagine how such a premise could explain a lot of things.

Earthquakes. Caused by wobbly elephant legs on an equally wobbly treading by a tortoise.

Symbolic tremors. When you try to balance every decision, every choice against a multitude of other choices and decisions precariously stacked against one another and leaning, tilting with every breath. Blame that on the pesky animal carriers of the world.

Lickety-split life changes. The turbulent waves carrying earth did it.

Splashing water or even floods. The fickle tides are precipitating it.

When you feel like you're peacefully floating. Calm waters today.

Maybe, a fool's paradise like this is what the world needs now.