The Chronicles of Narnia and it's characters belong to C.S Lewis.

Susan Pevensie sits on the window ledge, staring out onto the grounds as rain beats relentlessly again the dim green grass. She thinks back to an innocent game of hide and seek.

It's raining again. I love the rain; it takes me back to a simpler time. A time when the trees danced and the smell of the ocean stirred me in the morning.

Narnia was a place I often thought of, even now. I'm eighteen tomorrow, but I've been eighteen before. I feel like I know everything about growing up, as if I am already old enough to make my own decisions, to go where I please, to rule a country. I am, I was High Queen of all Narnia, something which means nothing here.

I wonder if they've forgotten about us; the old times and the legends of High King Peter the Magnificent, King Edmund the Just, Queen Lucy the Valiant and even myself, Queen Susan the Gentle. I am so estranged with that name these days, as though it were only a distant memory. I see it though, the person I became is reflected in the person I am here; I have kept the thoughts and feelings of the adult lost inside me.

I visited the local zoo recently and before long found myself at the lion enclosure. I looked into the magnificent beast's eyes as it lulled in the shade lazily. We stared at each other a long time and I wondered if he is here, watching over us in this world as he did the last. I cannot help but feel as if I have known Aslan my whole life, as though he has been a constant presence guiding me. He has given me strength I cannot imagine.

America is a beautiful country, I often go out on long drives with the local boys, not all at once of course, but they are so generous and hospitable! It is nice to feel attractive, I was always seen as beautiful in Narnia; Princes wanted my hand and were willing to fight to get it. I would have been flattered had I not been terribly disinterested at the time. In this world however, it is different. Courting is a lot more fun, I have to say. I go out to the town every now and again with mother and she has bought me some incredible dresses, every time I try one on in the shop I end up staring at myself in the mirror for a long time and thinking 'I remember looking like this, but gosh, is that me?'

I cannot go back to Narnia, I have accepted this. But the feeling will always remain, the memories will always remain. I suppose I must grow up and become a young woman. I am not scared as I once was. I have an unmeasured certainty of what is to come. I have experienced many things in my short but long life and becoming a lady is definitely one of them. I cannot go back there, I am too old; old enough to be courting young men, old enough to finish education and old enough to stop daydreaming about a hopeless memory.

I will leave my adventures in Narnia locked away in a small box in my heart and never look at them again.