Don't ask me where this came from, because I don't know …
A child with golden hair wandered down the hall, clutching her ragged lion to her chest. Her eyes were large and blue, and had a faraway, sad look to them even when she smiled, as she often did while exploring.
All these rooms were so big and confusing. She looked into one after another, ignoring the sounds of someone calling her, trying to find her.
There were lots of pretty books in this one, but they bored her after a while so she went on. The stairs were long and creaky. She couldn't hear voices anymore. She went up and up. There were too many rooms to look at all of them, so she chose the most interesting doors to open. Some of them were locked but it didn't bother her. She went on.
"Lucy! Lucy, where are you?"
There they were again. She opened a door and stepped into the room, closing it firmly behind her. It would take ages for them to find her now. She looked around and saw a large wardrobe at the end of the room. For a few minutes she amused herself by making faces in the looking-glass doors, and then she opened them. It was dark in the wardrobe; there must have been a hundred long fur coats hanging there. She stepped inside, but left the doors open. The coats smelled lovely and reminded her of something, something … something sad. She reached out and ran her fingers through the furs and didn't notice that she was crying. If she had noticed, she wouldn't have known why.
Where the back of the wardrobe should have been, she stopped. A shiver ran through her small body. But she was brave, and she stepped out into the enchanted wonderland of snow and pine and ice blue sky.
When she emerged back into the wardrobe she ran immediately to tell the others. They had to know. They would be so happy to find a wonderful world in the back of a wardrobe! When she told them, however, they didn't believe her. Lucy went to bed, clutching her toy lion and hoping against hope that in the end, they would find out she had been telling the truth.
Professor Kirke looked up as a soft knock came on his door.
"It's open!" he replied, pushing aside his papers.
The door swung outward and little Lucy peeped in.
"Can we come in?" she asked.
"Of course you may, my dear."
She stepped inside, one hand clutching that ratty old lion as she always did; her other hand was extended a bit as if holding someone's hand. She looked over her shoulder as she moved forward, as if waiting for another person to enter before she began talking. Poor thing, mused the Professor.
"We've been to Narnia, all four of us!" she exclaimed.
The Professor's eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her. The poor, poor little dear. Her parents hadn't evacuated her and during one of the air raids, her house had been destroyed. She had seen her mother killed and had lain all night shivering in the ruins before she was found. The toy lion was the only thing she'd brought with her that hadn't been donated.
He pushed his chair back and held out his arms.
"Come here," he said. She climbed onto his lap and nestled into him eagerly. "Tell me all about it. Narnia, did you say? What a lovely name!"
Finis