The man sat in his study, alone again, as usual. Since Emily had gone he seemed to be always alone, always sad. Today marked a year since she had been tragically taken from him, whilst their love was still new, and pure, and their life together had only just started.

He looked around the room, at the walls of books, and his gaze fell upon one of her favorites. He went to the shelf and returned to his desk with the book, “Stories of Magic.” She loved reading the stories to him, and he loved the way her eyes shone as she read about the magic worlds described in its pages.

He opened the book, and there was her favorite story: “The Magic Unicorn” and the picture of the beautiful white unicorn reached out to him. At last, he cried for his Emily.

As his tears landed on the picture, it shimmered, and seemed to come into a life of its own. He watched in amazement as the unicorn galloped across the meadows, then turned and spoke directly at him.

“Sometimes,” the unicorn said, “you have to make your own magic.” Then, as suddenly as it had come to life, it turned into a picture again.

The man closed the book and went to bed, sad and thoughtful.

Two days later was the annual thoroughbred sale, and, lot 11 was the most beautiful white mare the man had ever seen. He was determined to buy her, and he outbid all the other eager buyers to make her his very own. She was beautiful, and he instantly named her Emily.

From that day on, his life changed. Every day he would ride Emily  across the meadows, jumping fences and laughing in the sunlight, stopping only when they reached the place by the river. The man would take the book out of the saddlebag and read Emily a different story every day. Emily seemed to love the stories. She was happy. The man wasn’t sad any more. Everything was fine.

Sometimes you have to make your own magic.