t's hard to discern dreams, they linger between slumber and clarity. I used to walk this beach as a boy no bigger than you. I was alone back then. There was a pier, not the one you see now off in the distance. The one I walked on was made by men of the sea, fishermen and seafaring folk, not commercial developers. Strange shops were lit by strange lights, filled with antiquities draped in the mystery of far off lands. And the market, with such wonderful foods, the kinds that fill the stomach and satisfy the soul.

Best of all was at the very end of the pier, a carousel.

It was a masterpiece of carpentry, a feat of art performed by a giant of a man named Mr. Moses. What horses he’d carved! You had to look twice to realize they were made of wood. Never was there such a fine collection. Twelve in total, a black Stallion, a massive Clydesdale, two spotted Appaloosas, two brown mares pulling a carriage, two Knabstruppers, a rust colored Shetland pony, two Palominos the color of spun gold, and finally in the lead was a Unicorn carved out  of mother-of-pearl.

It spun round in glorious circles while children spiced the air with wild laughter, mothers clapped their hands with delight and paid whatever the cost. Unlike other children, I had no parents and no money.

I lived in an orphanage. The place somehow always smelled of dirty clothes. It was cramped and overly crowded— even then, I felt isolated. At times when it became too much to bear, I would sneak away and walk the beaches, listening to the music of the carousel, faint and melodic, in the twilight hours. The pier seemed to be a living beast of lights and sounds hovering above the ancient sea.

After a time I decided that if I could not pay to ride the carousel, I would settle for seeing it up close. I resorted to sneaking out of the orphanage late at night. The moon was so full and vibrant that I didn’t need a flashlight. All the shops and stands were closed. The only light came from the soft glow of the carousel. I circled round it a few times, imagining what a real journey round must feel like. I walked up onto the carousel, amongst the horses.

Then out of the quiet I heard a whinny, then another and another.

They were muffled and distorted, as if listening to a conversation from behind a closed door. One  whinny came from my right.

My heart leapt into my mouth.

Was it the Appaloosa? I placed my hand on the horse and flinched. I did not feel the hard carvings of wood. The neck softened under my touch. The grains of wood turned to fur, and the carousel whirled to life. Round and round it spun with such speed that its momentum caused me to lose my footing. Tumbled backwards off the carousel, into some heavy equipment that fell and broke the rails  behind me. I plunged into the sea. It was so sudden— the fall was rushing air, the hard slap of cold water, and the waves swallowed me.

I had never learned to swim.

I did my best to stay above water, calling for help, but it was like being under a sheet of glass, and I began sinking into the dark depths like a stone. All I could do was look up.

That's when I saw them. Their hooves impacted the water’s surface with each step. I reached out and grabbed a leg. In response, a mouth with strong teeth grasped firmly onto my collar, pulled me up out of the water, and placed me atop the massive Clydesdale. 

I gasped for breath.

It was the black Stallion who had rescued me, so black his silhouette shone in the night. They stood above the water as if it were solid ground. They were looking at me, and each took their turn at nuzzling my shaking self. The Clydesdale was warm, and soon I was alright.

Then there was a whinny, soft as a silver bell, a bell that seemed to ripple in this existence and in another of half-remembered dreams. The other horses twitched their ears and flared their nostrils with excitement. Off the pier like a shooting star came the Unicorn. She pranced up to the front, and all others bowed their heads in reverence. She was pure light darkness itself rolled off her body. She raised up and kicked her front legs, and all the others followed. I clung to the horse’s mane for dear life, and we took off into the open sea, the Unicorn leading the way. At first, the company only moved at a brisk trot, the sound of water splashing under their hooves, then faster and faster, kicking up great sprays of sea foam in my eyes. Finally, in a great gallop, they rushed over waves and far out into the ocean. 

I cannot tell you how long we rode. I became drowsy, and the last thing I remembered was the sound of horses and the crashing of waves. I woke on the beach caked in wet sand, the sun rising rose-pink and gold.

Had it all been a dream?

I ran as fast as I could back to the pier and carousel, and even though I didn't want to admit it, I was disappointed to find them all there not alive— only made of wood. I felt as if a trick had been played on me. 

I marched up to old Mr. Moses’s house. Everyone knew where he and his wife lived in an old shack on the beach. People called him strange. Maybe now I knew why. He wasn’t harmful, but he was the sort of man who talks to his own carvings of horses.

After many frantic knocks on the shack, the door finally opened. He was a tall man. Standing on that tiny porch looking down at me, he seemed a giant. He was surprised at seeing someone knocking on his door so early. 

“Is everything alright, son? Do you need help?"

“Your carousel. What's the trick?"

He looked as if he was trying to size me up.

“They can't be real!" I said. “How do you make them seem so life-like?"

He held up his hands as if to calm me.

“The moonlight plays tricks when the tide comes in, son."

“I know what I saw in the moonlight has nothing to do with it. And don't call me son!"

At this he smiled, flashing his big shiny white teeth. “Oh, more than you think. Come back tonight, boy, and I’ll give you a proper introduction."

“I'm not stupid. They aren’t real! I want to know how you made them seem real."

Mr. Moses folded his arms.

“Maybe it was real," he answered.

“Maybe you’re the idiot," I snapped.

He waved away my insult with a wave of his hand and laughed, which made my hands clench.

“I'll see you tonight," he said.

I turned to walk away. His voice boomed behind me.

“Hey, you got a hard heart son. Best be careful, don't let it sink your soul. Spring’s all about new beginnings."

With that he closed the door. I stormed off, more confused than before. If there was one thing I had learned from my life at the orphanage, it was that grownups let you down.

Nevertheless, I returned to the beach. We met just as the orange sun dipped into the sapphire sea. Mr. Moses wore a large coat, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he told me his story.

“Now, I could say I'm the greatest craftsman that ever was. Even my whittlings spring to life. Or, it’s the magic of the sea. But son, that would be a lie. The truth is I don’t have a clue. Maybe this is the first time it's ever happened to anyone—although I doubt it— or maybe this sort of thing happens to artists all over. What I do know is it starts in Spring— new life, blooming...new beginnings."

The sun was gone now and the moon hung in the sky, bright and ripe.

“I thought you were going to show me the trick?"

“And so I will, but this ain’t a trick. Tricks aren’t true. This kind of magic is the truest form."

Instead of walking to the pier, he waded into the ocean till the water lapped against his ankles.

“Look!" he shouted. “There they are, on the horizon."

I couldn't believe it. He had been telling the truth.

“Come on, boy, let’s meet them proper."

“How come nobody else has ever seen them?" I asked in astonishment. Mr. Moses called from over his shoulder, neither of us taking our eyes from the horses.

“Most people aren't looking. If they are, it's out of selfishness or jealousy, not pure, and pure is what these horses are. They showed themselves to you, though, so you must be alright. They may come, they may not. I'm not their master, only a soul who's been graced by their beauty."

I felt the rise and fall of the waves, and the horses all came walking on the sea as if it were solid ground. Hot breath fired from their nostrils in warm clouds as they introduced themselves with nuzzles and grunts. Mr. Moses stroked their manes and patted their heads, talking to the beautiful beasts in low tones. It was obvious they loved him.

Mr. Moses picked me up out of the water and put me on his shoulders and the horses in turn greeted me.

I looked to the Stallion.

“Thank you for saving me last night," I said. He seemed to understand. 

All our attention was suddenly drawn to the Unicorn, who was a burning light in our midst. She came right up to us and gently tapped my forehead with her silver horn. A surge of energy washed over my body. I had never felt such peace.

She let out a cry, and the horses were off, vanishing into the distant sea horizon.

“Does magic come from the Unicorn? " I asked.

“Ain't no way of telling. Could be I made her, could be her spirit found my carousel. I don't know. Some mysteries don't have answers."

We continued watching until night found us.

“Come on, son," said Mr. Moses. “I bet your folks are missing you." 

“Not a chance!" I laughed. “The orphanage hardly notices."

“Oh," he said, setting me down on the beach. “I had no idea. "

“Yeah, it's not that big a deal."

He was solemn. “I'm sorry for your loss, it must be hard." 

“Hey, it's not like I care."

I did though, and having someone say kind words meant more than I would allow myself to admit.

“Anyway," he said, “It's best you be on your way. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other real soon. Just promise me you’ll keep our secret. Can you do that?"

He held out his huge hand. We shook, sealing the deal.

Over the course of a few weeks, I spent as many nights as I could with the enchanted carousel, sometimes catching a glimpse of them galloping across the sea, other times riding on one of their backs, feeling the world and existence shimmer and curve.

he seasons changed. All life left the horses, reverting them back to wood imitations. I longed for the scent of Spring, for my friends to return to life once more. Summer was free of school, and Autumn was filled with candy, monster costumes, and other little thrills a boy enjoys. I still mostly thought of the carousel and what magic it would bring. What came instead was a storm.

It arrived suddenly, without warning. The weather had made up its mind. Without any mercy, it gave us a strong, savage hurricane. It blew its winds without pity, its waves with unshakable hunger. It ate up the pier and all its contents in a matter of minutes— all the strange shops, all the colorful food stands and, to my horror— the carousel was ripped away.

The storm raged for three days. By the time I was able to sneak away from the orphanage and get to the beach, everything had changed. It was a site of carnage. Fragments of shattered wood and floating bits and pieces of the once lively pier, which now resembled the jutting bones of a giant beast. 

That winter was a frigid blur, but finally Spring came and once more I walked the beach to the house beneath the cliffs and knocked on the door of Mr. Moses. This time his wife answered. She was nearly as tall as her husband.

“Why are you knocking on my door on a school day? You should be in school."

“I came to see Mr. Moses. It’s about the carousel." 

Her eyes watered.

“Bless his heart,'' she said. “He ain’t been the same since the storm. I take it you're the child he spoke of, yes?"

I nodded. She looked me up and down.

“Well, I agree with the horses. You do have an air of quality about you, even if you haven't used it yet. Go on, he's down in the harbor painting the boats. Here, give him this." She gave me a paper bag with sandwiches. I raced to the pier.

Over the year, an idea grew in my mind. One that was simple, but one I could not do myself. I needed Mr. Moses. I found him, paintbrush in hand, looking all glum. Regardless, he smiled at seeing me, but when I told him what I wanted to do, he frowned.

“No," he said. “Ain’t no point going out to sea. It’s over."

“Please." I begged, tears in my eyes. It was the first time I had believed in anything. He saw it.

He knelt down. Even then I had to look up. 

“Sometimes bad things happen, and there's nothing to be done about it. I need you to understand that."

“You think I don’t understand?" My voice trembled. “My parents are gone. I know about bad things happening."

To my surprise he was crying with me, but his eyes flickered with resolve.

“Alright. We go looking, but promise me that when all we find is the open sea, you won't close your heart up. It’s opening, I can see that. We go only if you promise."

I didn't understand the importance of what he said.

I spent many days over at the Moses residence, with Mrs. Moses helping her with washing dishes, or Mr. Moses down at the docks, painting.

Soon we made preparations for our search.

It was a full moon when we rowed out into the waters. We searched, until it became late, and I began to wallow in my grief.

A fog rolled in. This worried Mr. Moses who with all his might tried to row us away from the approaching blindness. But it was too swift, and before long we were lost. We rowed blindly in silence till a rock out of the night struck the boat with such violence that Mr. Moses lost hold of the oars, and they fell into the water and floated into the mist. We drifted all night until the morning sun. Still we had no idea where we were with no direction to the shore.

The day was spent without food or water. That night the moon rose, and Mr. Moses lay in a fitful sleep.

“Hey." I tried to wake him but he did not open his eyes.

“Yes?"

“This is all my fault. I'm sorry." 

He chuckled deep in his chest.

“Don't ever be sorry for having hope. So long as you keep your promise and still believe, I have faith we'll be alright."

I stayed up waiting for a miracle. I heard a whinny and horse shapes rushed by us, waking the sleeping man. I let out a cry of joy. The horses had not died in the storm. No, they had been set free!

I could see them all turning round in formation, and in no time we were surrounded by them, being nuzzled and breathed on. Mr. Moses was laughing a deep rich laugh. I don't think he ever thought he was going to see his carvings alive and well again. He tied a harness round the Unicorn’s neck and off we went as if our little rowboat was being pulled by a shooting star. The fog lifted as a veil, and we saw them all racing round us.

The moon gave way to dawn.

One by one they changed back into carvings of Mr. Moses, and sank beneath the sea. I watched and cried. The last was the Unicorn who stood on her hind legs and whinnied the sounds of a Spring morning, and was lost in the waves. The sun rose and with it hope, for we saw the shoreline. My heart opened, and when the heart is open all sorts of magic happens.

“Can't we bring them back, Mr. Moses?" I asked but he only shook his head.

“No, son, we can't. They’ve taken on a life of their own and wouldn’t it be selfish of us to stop them from living free?"

“I want them back. I want things to be like they were." 

I had lost them just like I had lost my mother and father. Mr. Moses put his massive hands on my trembling shoulders and smiled.

“You can't trap beauty, son. It slips through our fingers and lights up the night sky just like the moon. Only fools try to control that which is wild." 

He was right. Beauty changes us. Only when someone has seen true beauty are they changed forever. That's why childhood is so magical— we see the magic adults have chosen to forget. 

So Mr. Moses and I walked the shore, listened to the crashing waves and watched the sand turn to gold in dawn's radiance. That's when Mr. Moses asked if my heart was open enough to have a new family, if I would like to come and live with him and his wife. The rest is life’s journey.

You might be wondering why your dad woke you up in the middle of the night, dragged your sleepy head off to the beach. It's Spring. The moon is full and if you listen and watch carefully we might find the horses of the carousel led by the Unicorn.

Take it from me, son. This world can be bitter, harsh, but also merry when we look and allow our hearts to be filled with beauty.

Did you hear that? A whinny carried on the wind, the sound of hooves galloping on the high tide. Look real closely and you'll see them off in the distance. There they are! Untouched by time, prancing on silver waves.