A Case of Time-Travelling Shorts

Augustus: The depressive rhinoceros

Inspired by LillianGordonTaylors' suggestion to write a story about a rhino who aspires to get into a prestigious ballet school. Hope you enjoy!

Augustus stared glumly out at the morning's haul of zoo goers. Saturday was his least favourite day of the week. The playful garb of two-leg calves brought back memories of a past that he longed to forget. In his long years, he had seen their calves disguise themselves as lions, elephants- even cheetahs, but never a rhino. No one loved rhinos like she had. Even his food-server-dung-remover had admitted to a fellow worker that he had applied to look after the ostriches over rhino-care. After hearing that, Augustus had retaliated, leaving his dung in the most imaginative, painstaking places he could think of: in the water trough, over the human visitors, on fences: anywhere that required vigorous cleaning. He had kept it up for for weeks, slowly crushing the spirit of the food-server-dung-remover, stopping only when he was replaced. Augustus lumbered over to edge his enclosure, he would give none of these two-leg calves the satisfaction of seeing him today. He settled into his favourite Saturday standing spot: a corner shielded from view by a rock even larger than he was.

Across the fenced-in Savannah, he could see Burma gathering a crowd. What a pretentious git. Augustus scowled. Give an animal a set of flap-able ears, and he'll think himself the overlord of the plains. Augustus' thoughts darkened. He wriggled his ears in frustration. A large picture by Burma's enclosure showed yet another two-leg designed show. The strange picture showed warped versions of the animals around him: a lion and a giraffe, balancing on top of a large reptilian monster. He remembered another that had even featured a hippo, and some strange white-black torpedo birds, alongside a lion and zebra. But no rhino. Never a rhino. Augustus rubbed his horn against a nearby tree. It's not fair. He thought, poking his head out of his rock-sanctuary to glare at the two-legs. I'm the closest thing to a unicorn that you will ever see. Yet you worship the myth. And even then, you would never care for me the way she did. He immediately regretted his decision to glare at the small crowd. Standing by the fence was a two-leg calf with a costume that made Augustus' heart ache. The calf wore a pink disguise that flowed out at her waist. The pink ribbons entwining her legs proved too much for Augustus. He retreated once more, his crushing past threatening to overwhelm him.

Faster than he could block them, his memories resurfaced. Flashes of his calf-hood came to him: travelling with the two-legs; the big, moon shaped house that they carried with them. It was there Augustus had fallen in love with dancing: moving to the entrancing noises that the two-legs blew out of strangely shaped objects. When Augustus danced, he felt free: not weighted down with the world. It no longer mattered if the two-legs loved his kind, because when he was in the ring, they loved him. They would cheer his name, and shower him in sweet smelling flowers. Augustus remembered the costumes: how they disguised his own rough skin, and replaced it with sleek black fabrics that felt smoother than human skin. Stop it. Augustus ordered himself, shaking his head, do you want to think of Emily? Emily. The name froze him to the spot. Emily. The two-legs who had raised him, danced with him. Emily: whose fur was the colour of burning fire, and whose skin blotched in the hot summer sun; who spun, spiralled, as if the wind was urging her on. Emily. Who wore pink ribbons up her long limbs as she danced, free. Emily. The only two-leg he had ever allowed to balance on his back.

 "One day, I'll get you some ribbons to lace up your legs, and I'll convince Madame do let you join the ballet company." She'd joked one night, as the sun sunk beneath the ground. As long as he was with Emily, Augustus didn't care whether they were in a circus act, in a ballet company, or travelling the globe. Just as long as they were together. Where does the sun go? Augustus had wondered, as he watched disappear into the ground. The onslaught of memories continued. Instantly, he was transported to that fateful night.