OPENBOOK

ABRAXAS the LOVESICK SEA DRAKE

“I'm astounded!” said the nag. The swayback took a peek over David's shoulder as the boy pondered the results of the horse's portrait. Gazing back at him from the sketchpad, was a grand Alacorn, a golden-winged unicorn, sturdy and sleek like a robust stallion. “Is that what you think I look like?”

David shook his head, then rose from his stool raking through his tangle of hair while circling the rawboned animal he had just drawn. “No … not now.” He stopped to pat the horse's muzzle, while wrinkling his own nose. “No unicorn horn ...”

“You didn't see any wings either, did you?” The nag brayed, adding, “A very handsome portrait nevertheless.”

There was no denying the young artist's portrayals were 'handsome', but they were beginning to make David's skin crawl. “That's not what I wanted to draw! … something's wrong. It's like I'm ...” David blanched and dropped to his seat. “... I AM bewitched.”

After staggering back to his cottage door, David's complexion turned from ash to ice. On his table, in place of the skimpy setting of dried out grapes and daisies, David saw a bulging cornucopia overflowing with a bounty of fruits and gourds, grains and garden produce—the still life, exactly as he painted.

He tried to utter, 'Jeepers', but the word couldn't get out. He felt something slimy licking up the back of his neck. It was the nag's snout nudging him inside.

“That's some feedbag you put out!”

“You see it too? … It's not my imagination?” David circled the table once just wondering if this horn of plenty might vanish before he reached out and gave one of the plums a squeeze … then a bite. “Jeepers!” came out loud and clear this time. “It IS real! My still life … has come to life!” Just to prove he hadn't lost all his marbles, David handed the nag a juicy apple.

“Never tasted a more delicious picture,” he said, then gulped down an ear of corn.

"Where did this come from, I wonder? And how did I draw it—before I saw it?"

“Your Muse must have a lot of foresight. That would explain your talent, not to mention your 'good taste' in art!” The nag was still smacking his lips.