The unicorn whose horn glowed too bright

Opal was a young unicorn with a white coat, a tail like a cloud, and a horn that glowed.

All unicorn horns glow a little. It is how unicorns find each other in the long grass at dusk. But Opal’s horn glowed a lot. In the daytime, nobody noticed. At night, in the meadow where the unicorns slept, Opal’s horn lit up everything. It lit up the clover. It lit up the sleeping rabbits. It lit up her own two front hooves, so that every time she closed her eyes, she saw pink light through her eyelids.

“I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’m too bright.”

Her grandmother, whose name was Fennel, was lying in the clover beside her. Fennel was an old unicorn. Her horn had a soft, gentle glow, like a candle behind a curtain.

“Mmm,” said Fennel. “Your horn is not too bright. It is just thinking too hard.”

“Horns don’t think,” said Opal.

“Horns think about whatever you think about,” said Fennel. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Opal thought. She had been thinking about racing the wind down the hill, and the loud splashing of the stream, and the time she jumped over the whole hedge in one go. Fast things. Bright things.

“Try soft things instead,” said Fennel. “One for each color. Start with red.”

Opal looked up at the glow of her horn. There was red in it, right at the tip, bright as a berry.

“A soft red thing,” she said slowly. “A red wool mitten. The kind that has been worn so many times it has gone fuzzy.”

The red at the tip of her horn went softer. Not gone. Just softer, like a mitten.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

“Orange,” said Fennel.

“An orange kitten,” said Opal, “curled in a circle with its nose under its tail.”

The orange glow went soft and round, like a curled kitten.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

“Yellow.”

Opal closed her eyes to think. “A dandelion when it has gone to fluff. So soft that if you breathe on it, it floats away.”

The yellow in her horn went light as fluff.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

“Green,” said Fennel, and her voice was a little slower now.

“Moss,” said Opal. “The thick moss on the shady side of the big stone. The kind you can press your cheek into.”

The green glow went deep and soft, like moss.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

The rabbits near Opal’s hooves stopped twitching their ears. The light on them was gentle now, like moonlight through leaves. They tucked their noses down and went still.

“Blue,” said Fennel.

Opal was quiet for a moment. “My blanket,” she said at last. “The blue one. The one that smells like hay and sunshine.”

The blue glow went soft as a blanket.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

“One more,” whispered Fennel. “Purple.”

Opal did not answer right away. Her head had drooped a little toward the clover. “Lavender,” she said, very quietly. “A pillow filled with lavender. You put your head on it and it goes crunch, very softly, and then it smells like sleep.”

The purple glow went soft as a lavender pillow.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

Opal’s horn was not bright anymore. It glowed just a little, like a nightlight. Just enough to see the clover. Just enough for Fennel to see Opal’s eyes, which were almost closed.

“There,” said Fennel. “Soft things.”

“Soft things,” said Opal.

She lowered her head into the clover. Her cloud of a tail settled around her legs. The rabbits breathed slow beside her hooves.

Red mitten. Orange kitten. Yellow fluff.

Her breathing went slow.

Green moss. Blue blanket.

Slower.

Lavender pillow.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

Opal’s horn gave one last small glow, soft as a candle behind a curtain, just like her grandmother’s.

Then it dimmed to nearly nothing.

Fennel rested her chin on the grass. Mmm.

The clover was soft. The night was soft. The little unicorn was soft all the way through.

And the meadow hummed, mmm.

Goodnight, Opal.

Mmm.

How to read this one aloud

• Make “and the meadow hummed, mmm” a real hum. Close your lips on the “mmm” and let it go on for a second or two. Children often start humming along by the third color.
• Slow down a little at each new color. Red can sound almost normal. By purple, you should be whispering.
• The natural pause point is right after “The blue glow went soft as a blanket.” If your child is asleep, stop there.
• If your child is still awake, ask: “What is your soft blue thing?” Let them answer, then say “and the meadow hummed, mmm” and finish the story.
• Children who like this one usually like the very small dragon with the warm breath too. If your child still has energy after a story, the problem is often the routine around it rather than the story itself. Our guide to a calm toddler bedtime routine covers what to try, and bedtime stories by age explains why color and repetition work so well for 2 to 4 year olds.