Author's Note: Had to do this for school. I know its short but I hope you enjoy it. Based off the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Chapter 12 the Dark Island, page 185.
FATE
It was a myth, a story, a legend. Yet there it was again. It was the unmistakable sound of a pair of large scissors, opening and shutting, almost like a large pair of shears. You could hear the scraping noise again as it cut its way through the air.
"Never get out!" yelled the madmen the crew had come upon.
The day before you had joined Prince Caspian's crew, your father had warned you not to tempt fate. Now you wished you had listened. You see now that this foolish quest is hopeless. You cannot survive.
You had learned of the story in the form of a childhood bedtime story. Your mother had carefully tucked you into bed before she told you about the myth. She had imitated the different voices and used elaborate hand gestures to turn the story into something that was almost reality.
The three Fates controlled destiny, or so the tale went. They were three gnarled, immortal, powerful, old women, who wove the world. Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis measured how long each thread of life was, and Atropos was the cutter of the thread of life. Now you are sure that you have tempted the Fates to cut your life thread. It was over. This island of dreams would consume you.
All of a sudden, through the darkness and the horror, there was light again. It was coming from a bird, an albatross. Gradually, the black turned to gray around them, and then the darkness was behind and they were out. The crew of the Dawn Treader was no longer in fear's icy grip.
"I don't believe there was any reason at all to be afraid," you muttered.
Yes, the Fates were a myth, a story, a legend; but Aslan was real.
THE END