Okay folks, here's my contribution. I've combined all three suggestions, although I have had to stretch the rules a bit. For example, can transcripts be done in the second person?
This is a second draft. I had a lot of good material in the first draft that just didn't fit the plot, so I turfed it. All comments gratefully received!
The Last of the Unicorns
You fly across the plains of Africa, dig beneath the mountains of Europe, scale the eyries of America, searching for creatures which won't survive the deluge. Soon, every species in creation has been accounted for, their representatives flying, swimming and running to the Ark which will be their salvation.
You blow to the west. A thousand miles away rain clouds begin to form.
You take one last walk upon the earth while there is still hard ground. It has been raining for weeks, and there are few places left. The water is filled with carcasses, too many to be eaten by the predators lurking beneath the surface. The few places that are yet to be covered with water are filled with animals. There too are the last of the sons of men. Seeing them grieves your heart, but the thought of what they did to your creation grieves you still more.
Your spirit hovers above the waters. You go to the highest point on the earth, knowing that when it is covered, the flood is complete. When you arrive, you notice a strange light. You look closer --- the light is emanating from a horse. Yet this horse is like none you created; it is pure white, with shining eyes and a mane that glitters as silver. From its forehead rises a single horn of many colours, twisted like the tooth of a narwhal.
You are curious. You created all in this universe. Who --- or what --- is this? You alight on the water near the fantastic creature.
``Greetings!'' you say.
``Greetings,'' the creature replies, sounding a little nervous.
You're not sure how to proceed. You are master of creation, Lord of all there is. You are not used to anything you haven't made. Indeed, nothing exists without your express permission.
``Can I help you?'', you ask
``No, I'm fine.''
``Well let me know if there's anything I can do.'' This is decidedly odd.
``There is one thing. Can you tell me when the rain will stop?''
``In a few days.''
``Oh, that could be a problem. I can't really swim that well.''
``Oh. Umm...'' You trail off into silence. You've never been lost for words before. ``Where are you from?''
``I see. Near here?''
``Probably. I don't like to be stuck to one place for too long, if you know what I mean.''
You don't, which is another new experience. You are the root of all meaning. ``I've got to be honest. I know pretty well everything that goes on around here, and I intimately know every creature that has ever called this planet home. Yet I don't recognise you. What are you?''
``I'm a unicorn.''
``I see. Why don't I know you?'' The unicorn's face tightens, then releases in a flood of tears.
``I'm sorry! I've done it again, haven't I?'' You feel sorry for the poor animal, but you can't help but become more exasperated.
``What have you done? Oh come on, pull yourself together!''
``My mum always told me how special we unicorns are. How the other animals would envy our shiny coats and magical horns. We have to keep a very low profile in order to survive.''
``Well, I was never that good at it! As a foal I wanted to be invited to parties and sleepovers. I always had friends, even outside unicorn-kind. And now you've found me!''
``But I've never even heard of your species! And I'm God!''
``Well you've heard of us now. I've let my whole species down!''
``Your whole species?'' You don't want to tell him.
``I take it, then, you haven't seem any other unicorns around?'' he asks. You presume it's a he. You've never had to figure things out before.
``Well, no. I spent a lot of time looking for different species, and you're the first of your kind I've come across. You realise that this is the last dry --- well, least soggy --- place on earth?''
``Really? You mean...' He seems to be realising the seriousness of his plight.
``There was hope, a few weeks ago. An Ark was built, to rescue representatives of each species, but now it's sealed. Even if I could get you on to it, it's not much use to your species without a mate.''
The unicorn's face falls. It is a pitiful sight. ``I see.''
``Well, that's it then,'' says the unicorn with resignation. ``I'm going to die, and unicorn-kind with me.''
``No, please don't look at me. This is rather embarrassing, to be quite honest. If we hadn't been so paranoid we'd be on that Ark.''
``No. Can you do one thing for me?''
``What is it?''
``When I die, take my horn. As a reminder that we lived.''
``I promise.'' The horn looks beautiful, and appears to be flexible but strong. It would make a good bow. You would be proud to show it off, even if you don't remember inventing it.
``Goodbye.'' The unicorn moves, plunging into the whelming billow.
The demands of justice have been satisfied. You look to the west, and blow once again.