I've always loved to watch the sun set. Whenever the Sun retires for the night, my troubles are washed away. It's like I can't feel anything else but motherly warmth, a huge eye still looking at me as night falls. I know I'm not supposed to, but whenever I look directly into the sun, I feel comforted, and suddenly, I have the perfect answer to any problem.
But tonight, it's not working...
How can the sun leave me like this? A time when I needed her most, she abandons me, leaving me possessed by horrible, bloody feelings. I stare into her now, but she's not helping. Rather, she's tormenting me, the color of blood sinks into the fading night sky.
As I look into the blood sky, I see a cloud. She's smiling smugly, folding her arms. She's using her finger as a pendulum...
"Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock."
"Stop it!"
"Tick Tock! Tick Tock! Tick Tock! Tick Tock!"
"Stop it at once!"
"TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK!"
The pain gets more and more immense. I scream into the night sky and start ripping out my mane. I close my eyes tightly, but I still see that white woman, her long, black hair is snakes trying to bite me, as she holds a bloody, obsidian dagger in her hand. She's laughing cruelly.
Inside my tent is a lone candle, a small, tiny light about to die. It's deathly still, everyone is fast asleep. I check the moon-dial one last time.
11:52. Great.
I close my eyes, take in deep breaths and try to relax.
But, even though my eyes are closed, I see a 10-year-old boy. His hair the color of tree bark, and eyes to match. He looks just like his other siblings; they share the same eyes...
He's looking at me with love, his eyes apologizing and thanking at the same time. His freckled face turns slowly into a sad, departing grin. He waves his hand at me, his white tunic billowing like the proud Narnian flag.
I open my eyes and smile back.
11:53.
It's time for me to go. I turn my eyes to the candle. I decide to just let it die peacefully, rather than me blowing it out. I nod at the candle, as if to say, "See you later...literally."
I take another deep breath and take baby steps out of my tent and towards my death, the boy's name circling my thoughts.
Edmund. Edmund. Edmund.
I take a brief look around. The moon's full, with the sound of an owl quietly flying around with the wind. If a full moon is fate's idea of a joke, it's not funny. Not at all.
Someone's following me. I can feel them. Or maybe I just have an active imagination tonight. I wouldn't blame myself. I just breathe out deeply and continue walking.
***
It's been about two minutes, and yet, I can still sense that someone's following my every move. It's not demonic creatures, I know that. I sense...humans. Daughters of Eve...
"Shouldn't you two be in bed?" I mutter, the first thing I said I pretty much said to anyone since the Witch left. A tall girl with long, princess-like black hair carefully steps out, sharing the same eyes as her younger brother. Her sister follows, her blonde hair like honey slowly trickling down the honeycomb.
"We couldn't sleep." Susan says quietly, almost as if ashamed. "Everyone's known that something's bothering you..." Lucy cries, her delicate hand reaching out to touch my cheek. I let her.
"Please, Aslan. Wherever you're going, may we at least accompany you?" Susan begs, placing her hand on my mane.
I smile sadly. "Yes. I should be glad of your company tonight. But, when I tell you to stop, you must do as I say." Lucy and Susan nod, their faces serious with promise.
The Pevensie sisters walk on either side of me, trying to look into my face. I just look at the ground as I slowly stumble like an infant struggling to walk.
"Aslan, are you ill?" Susan ponders to me, stroking my mane lovingly.
"No...just a little depressed."
The girls know that it'd be best if they don't ask why. They just lay their hands on my mane and walk like that.
"Do you girls have the time?" I mutter to them as I stop to see fire at torches. "Aslan, it's 11:58." Lucy cries to me as she looks at her wrist. I sigh. This is it. It is time.
"This is where you two must stop. What ever happens, don't let yourselves been seen. Goodbye..."
The sisters shower my face with their lips, feeling a bit sadder with each one.
I take in a deep breath and walk a little faster to my death.
The fire's glow gets brighter and brighter as I approach, trying to burn me. The demons are in line, horrible jeering at me. And about twenty feet away stands a woman, her skin pure white, lips red as blood. Her hair drops down to her waist, the same color as her evil heart. She wears a dress I can tell is made of lion skin, her arms are bared, and holds an obsidian dagger in the same shape of a snake.
"The fool has come." She smiles triumphantly. An ogre with a huge, wooden club knocks me to the ground. I yelp quietly, but say nothing or do anything to resent it.
"Bind him." the Witch commands with a laugh.
Some of the evil elves quickly surround my paws, even though they are very aware of how many of them I can kill with just one whack.
With black cords, the bind my wrists and ankles so tightly, they bleed, fat drops of pure-red blood slither down to the ground.
"Muzzle him." the Witch demands with a smirk.
A thin, bat-like demon with the head of bull obeys, jamming a muzzle onto my mouth so hard, I can hear bones crunching. He's very aware of how many hands I can chomp off with just one nibble.
The same ogre who knocked me down gives me a swift kick in my ribcage, sending a crack at least three of them. From a small pouch, he reveals a crown made of sharp thorns.
"Not yet, Rickjaw." the Witch shouts, a hand pointing to the ogre-Rickjaw. "He needs his mane off first." chuckles the queen of Charn.
Her dwarf obeys, holding up a small knife. He kneels at my head and chops a huge chunk of mane off me. He holds it up in the air like a war trophy. His demonic buddies cackle hatefully, but then at least ten of these monsters continue to wreck my PRMed mane. As soon as I'm practically bald, Rickjaw jams the crown onto my head. He forces my face to show proudly in the air, people laughing, "King of the Fools! King of the Idiots!"
Next, someone would pour pig's blood on me, calling me Prom King.
I'm surprised no one thought of that. Placing a collar-like rope around my neck, a couple of evil Dryads drag me towards the Stone Table.
The Witch's ugly, evil minions kick me, spit on me, and jeer at me. "Here, kitty kitty kitty!" "Would joo wike bowl full wof milk, pussy?" "How many mice have you caught today?"
What seems like an hour, I'm on the Stone Table. Rickjaw takes a staff and pounds it to the ground in rhythm, like an Aztec Priest.
Tap...Tap...Tap...Tap...Tap...Tap...
"Tonight, the Deep Magic will be appeased...but tomorrow, Narnia will be ours!" The gruesome brutes whoop, laugh and cheer, torches raised up in the air. The Witch's face is twitching with joy and passion, knowing that the only thing I can move now is my eyes.
I just stare into the moon, waiting for it to finally be over. In the full moon's face, I see the same, 10-year-old boy, his face alive with horror, remorse and depression.
"Fool, fool." the Witch whispers in my ear. "You honestly thought that by sacrificing your life, you'll save the little brat of a boy?" she jeers. "I'm a little disappointed in you, Aslan..." she says slowly, trying to taunt me.
Heh heh. Funny. She hasn't fully read the rules of the Stone Table. I've committed no treachery, and I'm willing to sacrifice my life for Edmund's. So, Death will redo itself eventually, the Stone will crack, and I will live.
"Understand that you have given me Narnia forever..." she whispers passionately into my ear. I'm still a little sad about death, even though I know I'll live.
"In that knowledge..." she shouts to the world, "Despair..." she holds up her knife dramatically.
"AND DIE!!"
The knife sinks to my heart.
I gasp. I gag. I close my eyes.
It's so peaceful, finally slinking away from life. It's more like falling asleep than anything. I feel no pain in my ribcage, my wrists, or anywhere else for that matter. I feel...almost...happy...
I smile comes onto my face as I slowly die, though no one can see it.
The last thing I see before I slip away, is four children. They're all smiling at me, laughing joyfully. The four of them share the same eyes...
I'm going...I'm going...I'm...gone.