John Thrasher

Pale Beasts John Thrasher

Every culture tells tales of mystical white animals. Buffalo, elephant, owl, tiger, dragon, all are symbols whose coming means change. Good, bad, never indifferent, always complete, change.

In Central Park on the second longest day of the year, one of them shimmered into being with a message.

You are my chosen avatar.

"I . . . can't," Rambo Jefferson replied from guilt, and he knew the creature understood him. "I mustn't!" He felt certain that thoughts sent and received are complete. "You are innocence!" And . . . . . .

the image faded. Finally. Irrevocably.

Ram felt a heart-wrenching disappointment.

You are chosen, came again, clear as black letters as tall as a Unicorn the size of a Clydesdale.

The creature hadn't vanished. He'd simply disappeared.