Chapter 1: Blockades

1940

A sense of euphoria washed over London. Every day, the harbringer toyed with the idea to eject bombs over the city and surrounding counties. Scaring wives and children as well as the overseas men fighting them. The enemy grinned in a beer hall thinking of lines on a map but don't think of the scared mothers feeling helpless to save their children. They rather smoke a cigarette between their teeth than to smell the piping hot burning flesh amongst the fires. And worst to come, the sound of the neverending sirens at nighttime. Some are deafened by the people's screams others are woes of agony from lost children.

In 1939, war was brought to the Allies. Specifically and horrifically to London. The German man tiny aircrafts over the British air to unleash the phase one of their wartime plan- blitzkrieg. Or simply Blitz. Tanks of armed nuclear warfare were shipped over in by the dozens in random intervals to weaken political strength and invoke fear straight to the Allies.

The city of London and all connecting cities were mandated to evacuate women and children- but specifically children- to the countryside where hopes lied in safety. For a while, all of London remained deserted. But the neighborring counties, confused and not yet invaded, waivered the mandate hoping the bombs would cease reign.

They didn't.

With half of London's population reduced, men overseas were dying from trench warfare and injured from ammunition. A shortage of nurses were advertized in the papers. Right alongside the P.O.W.s, M.I.A.s, and worst of all the tolling death roll.

Parliament was desperate. They took a call of action and emitted posters to join the British Royal Force, and to serve for their country with a need. Many of the fliers handed out were determined individuals believing only they could withstand the war. Many who entered never saw action for long enough or were hospitalized with little medical attention.

One fateful flier landed in the hands of Anne Eames. A widow and mother of one, she had little left besides her daughter to live for. Most of her neighbors had fled to the country, leaving only a few friends on the street. The handout was an ad for the Nurses Corp. It was illustrated with a woman gazing back at a soldier from afar with the slogan, "The woman he left behind, is right behind him,". The woman was then emphasized in a clean white uniform with small captions of taking care the sick and deprived. To have an honor in serving good men.

Her eyes crystaled over in reminsince. She too had faced hardship like any widow. It was still early in drafting when Todd Eames raved on and on till the cows came home about it. She thought him silly to pick up everything and leave. But that never stopped him.

Wartime was never easy on the economy. When Todd was laid off from the factory, his calloused hands had been spotless. A first since he was married. He loved his job more than anything and to see all his hard work shoved off the Dover Cliffs meant all the more for him. That's when Anne began to worry everytime he returned to their home in Finchly with his application forms crumbled and his back slumped. Pursuing another job deepened the lines in his forehead.

And every night, he would slouch at the supper table, fiddle with his food, and grab the evening paper to search once more for any low wage jobs. The one thing that eased his mind when he crumbled the paper alongside the application forms was his lovely daughter.

His little Sophia was all the pride he had left in the world. Growing up fast and still as beautiful as a flower, she had the mind to entertain herself. Before either of them went to bed, he took her onto his lap, pick a fable from her storybook and read to her in his soothing voice until her eyelids lifted no more for the day.

It was cue for Anne to pick her up, walk up the stairs with her husband and tuck the sleeping child in with sugar sweet dreams covering her like a warm blanket. Just when Anne would round the corner, she secretly smiled at her lingering husband gazing back in her room second time. With a sigh, he wiped the smile off his face with a hand and carried on to his wife.

But that was before the draft. Before she and Sophia held each other in their arms watching the bustling train roll by with her father onboard. She could still remember the stuffy air that billowed beneath the train. The way her husband was dressed so handsomely in the uniform. And what kept her from holding back, the small tear formed at the crevice of his eyes when he waved them goodbye for the last time.

Sophia, happy as a clam, didn't know it would be the last time she would hold and hug her father. She couldn't possibly fathom it would be the last time she would say 'I love you!' in her cute squeal over the whistles. Or the last time he would read her a story the night before his departure.

It was Peter Pan. It took him a week of nights for Sophia to hear. Her favorite part was her father imitating the ticking crocodile. He always had a way to make her giggle.

Anne held the flier closer to her as she walked home. It was only three months after the departure did she receive a letter. Signed in impersonal black ink from the sqaudron leader and curtly, the General, a letter of death. He was in the trenches when a loose bomb fired from the enemy hit him and his men. No survivors. What mutalant remains left were unsuitable to ship home.

There was a condolence, a promise of military pay for his service, a hymn from the Bible, and a patch of his military uniform with his name stitched on it. "T. Eames".

Mrs. Eames no longer could contain her cries as she stepped inside. She muffled them with a pillow, to not disturb Sophia and her babysitter. She cleaned herself up. Wiping her eyes and spotting any tear stains, she set the flier on her husband's unkept work table. Though hesitant she took a deep breath and walked to see her daughter.

By the time she rose to the last step, she had made up her mind.

The same sense of euphoria from a year ago rushed over a uniformed Anne. Dressed in the proper attire and an added peat coat and hat, she tugged alongside her daughter down the subway tunnels. The anxiety spread over her chest as she saw the hustle and bustle crowd weaving in and out trying to make it to their destination. Most of them came in her general direction. She bit her lip wondering if the women in the crowd were going along with her.

Sophie, as nicknamed by her father, held her mother's hand in one and the fluffy teddy bear in another. Her eyes widened at the amount of people from behind and in front of her. She doubled her small pace to match her mother's long strides. As an 10 almost 11 year old girl, most would find it strange for her to hold such a toddler toy. To Anne, it was the most important piece of imagination she could protect for her.

A child's imagination was the only thing shielding them from the horrors of the world. At too young of an age, they can be scarred for life. If there was any small bit she accomplished in this war, it was protecting her daughter. So far, that seemed like nothing; but, to Sophie it meant the world.

"Platform 9," Anne muttered. The station was much longer than it appeared. It's cobblestone walls formed a half circlet shape to emphasize the railings and amount of walkway space. She manuevered her way through, dodging bulky suitcases and scrambling passengers. Overhead English scripted words detailed which tunnels to take and their designated train times.

"Next train leaves in five minutes!" a conductor yelled from the head of train nine. She sighed in relief to have got there in time. They settled by a nearby bench. Sophia played with her bear as her mother scavenged for her ticket. She found it at ease and closed the trunk.

Sophia continued to play as another woman with short brown curls, a simple hat, and a polka dot blue and white dress with stockings and sensible shoes approached Anne. The two women hugged each other tightly. They exchanged pleasantries shortly after.

Anne turned her attention to the comfortable, leg-swinging child of hers. "Sophia!" she grabbed her attention. She knelt down to look at her eye level. "Soph, you need to be mommy's big girl. I'll only be gone for a short while," Her warm hands caressed her child's shoulders. Sophie's face softened.

Down, she asked with pleading eyes, "But why do you have to go?"

Anne's eyes flickered down and then back to her. Her lip quivered. "Many good men are hurt," she explained slowly. "They don't have mums or sisters looking after them," Her tender words spoke volumes.

The child hugged the bear tightly, fearing it too would leave her. She remembered at such a young age how her mum was sad after receiving the letter. Though unwilling to accept her Dad was gone, she pretended he was still out there fighting. It wasn't until the small funeral held with no casket did Sophia finally cried. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I wish Dad were here," Her nose twitched stuffily.

Anne's eyes crinkled. Her pearly white smile oped for a moment before choking back the lump in her throat. "Now, that won't do. What have I told you?" she said grabbing her small palms together.

Sophia's eyes narrowed down as her frown surfaced. "Daddy's in heaven watching over us, England and our soldiers," she murmured into the warmth of her teddy bear. Clutching on it for dear life, Sophia was estranged to feel such overwhelming emotion. She knew her mum would be away for a long time almost like the time she visited her mum and dad while Sophia stayed home with Daddy. However, this was a goodbye, her grandparents were long dead before the war, and Daddy along with them.

Her mother bit her lip several times to hold down the waterworks. She was a nurse. She had to be resilient, even in front of her own child. But the natural maternal urge to weaken and hold her daughter close was fighting.

She sniffed her nose. "But more importantly?" Anne distracted her wide blue-eyed girl.

From the deep lines of her frown, out cracked a beautiful toothy smile. She nodded her head along as if suddenly remembering something. "He's protecting us,"

She blinked profusedly to dry her eyes. "There's a good girl," her raspy voice came out. She stood up to gesture the woman she talked to. Dressed much more casually than her own mother, Sophia watched as the gentle woman interacted. "You'll take good care of her?" Anne nearly pleaded.

Helen's eyes crinkled. "Of course, Anne," her voice flowed music to Anne's ears. She needed to hear it. If only the one time.

"Thank you," she whispered. Suddenly, the warning whistle blew smoke and high pitched drones throughout the platform. Sophia became startled as well as her mother. She lifted the girl up to commit her mind every inch and detail of her child. Anne had to swat herself mentally for thinking about how she would look all prim and proper by the time she got out. A starring English lady. She prayed so frequently for the war to end. Though with little faith left, it was enough to go on.

"Sophie," she stressed as her window of opportunity was fleeing. "You remember Mrs. Pevensie from across the street? She and her four children have kindly offered to take you into their home. Promise you'll behave when I'm away?" They all walked together with the two women guarding the child.

She bobbed her head. "Yes, mum. When will you back?"

Anne froze. She wanted to break down and cry. Cry for her child's innocent nature and how horrible that innocence could be taken away if ever something happened to her. She regained her composure by pulling back a strand of hair.

She said hesitantly, "Shortly. But no matter how bad things are, I'll always be there for you. Always," She fixed her half lie with the wholesome truth. Staring into those same blue eyes she had fell head over heels years ago gave Anne the amount of courage she needed to grab the ticket out of her purse and proceed with her plans.

If any small part, she would protect Sophia. To preserve other children's innocence if needed. Above all, she would go and be brave likeher late husband to end a wicked war that no child nor woman nor man should have been a part in.

Unbeknowst to the simple mind of a child, Anne's million mile thoughts halted with two syllables. "Ok,"

She gripped tightly on the piece of parchment that held her ticket and boarding compartment as she stood in the line. Only two people ahead of her. Helen's hand squeezed her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, Anne," Her other hand rested on the small of Sophia's back. Her teddy bear looked ready to pop out its stuffing due to her neverending hold on the toy.

Anne sighed heavily. "Sorry, separation anxiety," She skimmed a thumb over the gold band on her left hand. Looking down at the metal, she truly valued the object with a small smile. After so many months of mourning, Anne removed the band to reveal the white thin line that hid her true skin. As she took it off to inspect it, she held it over her heart. One more person in front.

She kindly looked back in reminiscence to her child and a doting Helen. Without words, she offered it to Sophie, who gladly took it as a keepsake. A promise of her return. Anne held two fingers to her flushed cheek.

"Ticket, m'am?" The foggy voice of the ticketmaster called. She fumbled with the ticket to the man. He inspected the numbers before ripping off the tag. "Welcome aboard,"

Anne was ushered quite hurriedly up the stairs to the train. She glanced back to the two females. She kissed the tips of her fingers before sending them away to Sophie. She caught them with a swooping gesture.

"Bye-bye darling," She said over the rush of the whistle. The churning of the metallic wheels ran over the tracks. Slowly, the steam billowed underneath transported the machinery over. "I love you," Anne's eyes never left them until an usherman advised her to take a seat inside the train.

Sophia's voice rang high. "Good bye mum!" The squeal of the wheels echoed on and on. She waved her little hand high in the air quite in a frenzy unlike Mrs. Pevensie's dainty wave. "I love you too!" She cried over the new hustle and bustle of people as the train pulled away and out of sight.

Sophia loosened her hold on the stuffed bear finally. "Do you think she'll be back by Christmas?"

Mrs. Pevensie's lip trembled. She couldn't have the heart to tell a child the truth about her mother's whereabouts. Or what she signed up to encounter. With nothing left to say, she offered a kind smile and two words.

"We'll see,"

So good to be writing again :) Already have everything prepared. Should be expecting more chapters in the following days as a little gift for those who celebrate Thanksgiving or as I call it Turkey Day :)

Planning something for AFL as a wrap up but since NO ONE has messaged questions the whole format as to be sent back to the drawing board. :? It will come out hopefully sooner than later. As for 10th Kingdom... I have to get ALL the dialogue in first before writing which is a pain when I can't get it as easily as AFL because I had that movie. So for now, I gotta hold for that unless I get enough reviews for that.

I plan to extend this story into the Prince Caspian movie obviously. (I got allll that dialogue figured out too :) ) So yeah. Aren't I a brilliant writer for planning ahead? :))) My goal is to get this segment done before the New Year. Impossible? Sounds like it.

Projected Stats:

- 27 chapters

- 100k+ words

- tons of happy readers! :)