A young man of average height, average looks and an almost scrawny build was working as a security guard at the public fairground. To him, this was an almost pointless exercise in tediousness and boredom, as the fairground was isolated and fenced-in on all sides and should anyone approach they would be heard before they even entered the parking area. Thus his only duty was to call the police on the wireless phone his boss had given him if anything did happen.
"A nowhere job in the middle of nowhere." He thought to himself. "Why do I think that anything will ever change?" He mused, his mind wandering back to uneventful teen years, while he went about his rounds visiting each of the rides that made up the carnival that had booked the grounds for the next 3 weeks.

Earlier, he had stood at the gate checking the operators and setup-crew in and out, trying to look diligent and involved as an array of vehicles came and finally went.
The last to leave was the carnie-boss who had said to him in parting, "This place may as well be Fort Knox so for once I can get a good night’s sleep before opening!"
The carnie had meant it as a complement and statement of trust but all that was heard was, "Later sucker, I'm getting some sleep!"

Now alone in the moonlit summer abyss that he considered his job, he went about his task. As he tromped around the grounds on his rounds, he found himself constantly winding up in front the Merry-Go-Round. This struck him as odd, as he leaned on the railing that encircled the ride to give it some thought, he was suddenly overcome by a strange feeling as if someone were pulling on him. The hair on his arms was standing up as he passed through entrance to the ride, a shiver passed through the length of his body and he began to feel very warm. He stepped onto the platform and moved amidst the carved figures of what was clearly a lovingly well-preserved antique; he caught sight of an ornately decorated unicorn on the outermost ring of the carved wooden menagerie.

Sweat was now pouring off him and in an attempt for relief he unbuttoned his uniform shirt and pulled out the shirttails so that it hung from him like a cloak. The soft breeze caressed his torso and played with his shirt across his back, but the summer air held no reprieve. He brushed against the figure as he stepped around it to get a better look; where the tail touched the exposed skin of his abdomen felt like electric fire. His mind raced as he softly traced his hand across the smooth curves of the figure from mane to tail while his memory turned back to a large old carved rocking-horse and a night, home alone in his youth, filled with hormonal angst and pleasure.

No longer able to restrain his own actions, he started the generator and brought the ride to life. Leaving his now sweat soaked clothing in a pile, he set the carrousel in motion and made his way through the now galloping herd where he carefully mounted the unicorn. His mind was swimming as, like a child, he snatched up each of the painted wooden rings hung from the pillar beside the ride and gleefully stacked each of them on the horn of the mare that he was astride until all that was left was the very last. Not of painted wood, not nearly as close as the rest, the challenge held for only the most daring and the best.

The pillar went by twice as he marveled at the glistening metal that hung tauntingly from the peg. On the third pass, stretching and reaching far-out, he at last claimed his prize. The polished brass felt like it was molten in his hand and seemed to shine like the sun as he grasped the ring with all the strength that he could muster. Waves passed through him as every muscle tensed, his vision began to blur as if in a fog and now feverishly hot his head was spinning . . .

The following morning the only trace of the young man was a pile of wet cloths and and belongings at the center of the still-running carrousel . . .

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10 months later an equine male of approximately 23 years of age, diagnosed and documented with uncured amnesia and given what would hopefully be a temporary identity checked out of the hospital and rented
a room in a local boardinghouse.

The young stallion stood unclad before a full-length mirror in his room admiring the figure before him.
He cracked a soft smile and whispered, "Today . . . I am reborn . . ."