Sunshine lived in a Scottish stone castle that touched the clouds, at the edge of the enchanted forest in the Land of Gras. Everyone called her a princess, but Sunshine did not feel like a princess most days. She felt like a girl who needed her best friend.
Her best friend was Penrose, a unicorn with a silky white coat and an ivory horn tipped with red, like a drop of sunrise. Wherever Sunshine went, Penrose went too. When the wind made the forest whisper, his hooves made it sound brave.
Sunshine loved to play with him in the rose garden best. There, she braided Penrose’s long tail with ribbons and pressed her cheek into his warm neck.
They also swam in the nearby bubbling mineral springs. At night, sometimes, they slept in his unicorn lair near the castle.
“I love your horn,” Sunshine said to him, touching it carefully, not because she feared it, but because she respected it.
Sunshine knew there were creatures in the forest that wanted to scare her, and people who smiled too sweetly at the castle gates. Sometimes being royal felt like being watched. But Penrose stayed close. When Sunshine heard a twig snap, he stepped in front of her without a sound. She knew he always guarded her on every side.
On sick days, Sunshine’s body felt heavy as stone. Her head ached, her stomach turned, and even her sunlight-name felt far away. Penrose always knew what to do. He would rub his horn against a smooth rock until a tiny shimmer of horn-dust fell like snow.
Sunshine watched, worried, but Penrose only blinked, calm and steady, as if to say, “This is what I’m here for.”The horn-dust swirled into warm tea. Sunshine sipped, and the bitterness softened. Soon the sickness loosened its grip, like a knot untied.
By morning, Penrose’s horn looked whole again. It always grew back, as if magic refused to let him be less than himself. Sometimes, before Sunshine drank from a river or lake, Penrose dipped his horn into the water first to cleanse it. Sunshine did not understand how it worked. She only knew it felt safe.
Long ago, a cup had been made for Sunshine by Penrose, not from a broken horn, but from a shed, shining sheath of unicorn magic left behind like a gift. Sunshine held it like a secret and drank from it knowing she was protected from any poison from the forest. Whatever Sunshine drank from it was purified by Penrose’s healing power. On its base was inscribed: “But my horn shalt thou exalt like the horn of an unicorn: I shall be anointed with fresh oil.”
One bright afternoon, Sunshine and Penrose walked deep into the forest until they found a quiet river singing over stones.
“Let’s rest here,” Sunshine whispered. The tall grass tickled her ankles, and the sky looked wide enough to hold every dream.
Penrose curled beside her and laid his head in her lap. Sunshine traced the soft line of his ear and listened to him breathe. Then she felt it, the hush that was not peaceful, a silence that leaned in too close.
Shadows shifted between the trees. Eyes blinked. Claws scraped bark. Sunshine’s heart raced hard enough to hurt.
“Penrose,” she breathed, but he was still waking, and the shadows were already circling.
“STOP!” Sunshine screamed.
Penrose sprang up, and in one terrible moment Sunshine understood that he was placing himself between her and the danger.
“No!” Sunshine cried, but Penrose did not run. He stood like a white wall of light. Sunshine’s feet moved even when her soul wanted to stay. She ran, because Penrose was giving her the only gift he could, a chance.
From far away, Sunshine heard the forest roar. She did not look back at first. Then, she did, and the world cracked open inside her. She saw the beasts of the forest strike down her most majestic best friend.
That night, Sunshine cried until her chest ached. She pressed her face into her pillow and whispered, “I can’t breathe without him. I can’t.”
Then, a voice filled her room, deep as thunder and gentle as snow.
“Why do you weep as though I am gone?” the voice boomed.
Sunshine sat up so fast her blanket fell away. There stood Penrose, bright and steady and whole, as if the forest had never dared touch him.
Sunshine ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You’re here,” she said with tears. “I thought I lost you.”
Penrose’s warmth was real, but when Sunshine glanced at her mother standing in the doorway, she knew this miracle was meant for her eyes only.
After that, Sunshine never walked alone again. Sometimes, unicorns from other lands visited Sunshine in Penrose’s honor. At other times, Penrose’s mystical shadow stretched across the ground beside her. It once cast a dragon into the sea of forgetfulness. She even wore a beautiful, braided unicorn necklace around her neck carved from his ivory alicorn. If predators advanced against her, it would send a beam of blinding light into their eyes.
Even though no one else saw Penrose, Sunshine felt him beside her like a promise. And when fear reached for her, it found only his light.
“I have as it were the strength of a unicorn,” Sunshine sang each morning.
And so, she grew into the queen she was meant to be, ruling the Land of Gras from an ivory throne made of Penrose’s magic. Never alone, never unprotected, and never without light.
Inspired by THE UNICORN TAPESTRIES, or THE HUNT OF THE UNICORN, a set of seven tapestries at the Cloisters, Fort Tryon Park, New York City, a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art: Numbers 23:22; Psalm 92:10 (KJV).
Copyright 2020, 2026 Jennifer Waters
Pen Jen's Inkwell Podcast version:
Once there was a girl named Sunshine in the land of Gras whose best friend was a unicorn named Penrose. Because her father was King of Gras and her mother was the queen, she lived in a Scottish medieval castle.
Penrose went with her everywhere she went, protecting her from harmful beasts in the enchanted forest. She loved to play with him in her rose garden and splash with him in the hot, bubbling mineral springs.
“I love your horn,” 12-year-old Sunshine announced, touching the ivory knife-like spear on his slender forehead. Only the rhinoceros was known to have a similar horn on its head, and this unicorn’s alicorn had a red tip.
More than once, his horn had pierced the heart of beasts of the forest in Sunshine’s defense. Although she was a princess, she had many jealous enemies, trying to prevent her destiny to rule Gras as queen.
Sometimes, she would spend the night with Penrose in his unicorn lair next to her family castle. She brushed his silky white coat with her own golden hairbrush and braided his long flowing tail.
“No one dares come anywhere near me when you’re by my side,” she voiced, stroking his satin fur.
On days when Sunshine was sick, Penrose helped her get well quickly. His horn had magical healing qualities, and he would grind it against a rock and mix its powder in tea as a potion to cure her ailments.
Days later, his horn would grow back to its regular shape, as if he had never used it as medicine. When Sunshine would swim in a river or lake, he would dip his horn in it first, cleansing it for her.
He was always making sure that she would never be poisoned by the evils of the forest. In fact, the cup itself from which Sunshine would drink was made from Penrose’s unicorn horn. On the base of the cup was inscribed: “But my horn shalt thou exalt like the horn of an unicorn: I shall be anointed with fresh oil.” So, whatever Sunshine drank was purified by Penrose’s purifying healing powers and virtues.
“Let’s take a nap together by the river,” Sunshine wisped, one afternoon in the beautiful forest.
The unicorn curled up next to her in the tall grass, neighing, and fell asleep with its head on her lap. That particular afternoon, beasts had been watching the pair from a distance, waiting to pounce. As Sunshine and Penrose rested, the beasts circled, and when Penrose was fully asleep, the creatures descended.
“Stop!” Sunshine screamed as loud as she could, as if waking from a nightmare. Penrose rose to his feet.
Although it was devastating, Penrose threw himself in front of the beasts, giving Sunshine a chance to flee. As she ran into the distance, she saw the beasts slaughter her most majestic best friend.
She cried all night until she could no longer produce tears, and she felt sick to her stomach. She sobbed: “Why did Penrose have to die? I will never be able to go on. I miss him so much that I can hardly breathe.”
“Why do you weep as though I am dead?” a sudden voice boomed in her bedroom, shaking the walls.
There stood Penrose in all his glory and stately heroism. “I am now more real than ever before,” he declared. She ran across the room and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks as she wept.
“I thought you had died,” she cried. “You’re my beloved companion. Never leave me again!”
Almost like an angelic being, Penrose accompanied Sunshine until the day she died, but only she saw him. Although unicorns from other lands would visit Sunshine in Penrose’s honor, even they could not see him.
Others could feel his presence and had been warned of his intervention in her life, time and again. Since Penrose was invisible, his ability to care for her tripled, compared to when he was seen by all.
“She has magical protection from Penrose,” the people of Gras whispered among themselves.
She was feared more than all women because of the unicorn’s legendary acts of bravery to defend her. One time, Penrose’s mystical shadow cast a dragon into the sea of forgetfulness to protect her. She even wore a beautiful, braided unicorn necklace around her neck carved from his ivory alicorn. If predators advanced against her, it would send a beam of blinding light into their eyes.
“Ah!” her enemies yelled. “What is that bright light in my eyes? I can’t see anything!”
Of course, she could never forget Penrose because he was always with her, even if no one else could see him.
“I have as it were the strength of a unicorn,” Sunshine sang, rising from bed each morning in her castle.
As queen of Gras, she sat on an ivory throne made of Penrose’s magical alicorn, reigning until age one hundred twenty. As time went by, the beasts of the forest never again attacked anyone of noble heart, for they had been eradicated from Earth with Penrose’s vengeance. In death, he accomplished more than he ever could in life, raising Sunshine like the golden queen that she was for her parents and her people.
Copyright 2020 Jennifer Waters
(Inspired by THE UNICORN TAPESTRIES, also known as THE HUNT OF THE UNICORN, a set of seven tapestries housed today at the Cloisters, in Fort Tryon Park, northern Manhattan, New York, which is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Numbers 23:22 KJV. Psalm 92:10 KJV.)
https://soundcloud.com/jen-waters/the-unicorn-cure
