Hey readers! Thanks for opening my fanfic! This is my second ever fanfiction and my first Narnia story. I absolutely love the books and decided to write on an idea I've had since I was ten. I know lots of fanfics have people that come into Narnia and fight beside the four children, but in this story, the extra character is there from the very beginning. Please review! I would love it if you would (: Thanks for reading! ENJOY!
Sing Out! 3
SW
Disclaimer: I do not claim copyrights to any part of the Chronicles of Narnia books, including characters and dialogue.
Prologue
The bombs drop like rain. Smoke, ash, and the sound of enormus crackling fires fills the air.
Thankfully, I am not alone on this nightmarish evening. My mother is with me.
"Come on, come on!" she yells frantically at me. More booms and the whistling of falling bombs cuts her off.
I leap out of bed and slide on my slippers. Mother grabs my hand and a flashlight and we tumble clumsily down the stairs. We scramble to collect a few precious treasures, such as pictures of dad, before exiting the house.
We don't even close the back door. I see the bomb shelter clear across the large yard.
Mother pulls me along to the shelter. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the neighbors leaving their house. There are five of them, four children and their mother.
I'm so focused on the people in the next yard the I don't pay attention to where I'm running. My foot catches in a hole and my anke twists in a direction I know it's not supposed to turn. I cry out in pain as my mother reaches the door of the bomb shelter.
I try to get up and shake it off, but the sharp hurt in my ankle is too unbearable. I collapse onto the soft grass.
A bomb is close at hand. I can hear it coming. I need to move, but I can't.
"Henrietta! Henrietta!" yells mother, scurrying back over to where I'm sprawled.
"I can't walk," I groan.
"Try, please, try," pleads my mother.
"I have!" I protest.
"Let me help," says a sandy-haired boy. He doesn't look any older than fifteen or sixteen. It's one of the neighbor boys.
He lifts me up and quickly carries me into our bomb shelter. I barely have time to thank him when a small girl calls him.
"Peter, come on!"
Then he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
"Are you alright?" my mother asks worriedly. I nod.
"I'll be fine," I reply. "Thank goodness for the neighbors."
Mother agrees and sets about putting the blankets on the bunk beds.
I listen to the violence outside, hoping one will not collide with my father. He's out there somewhere, in a plane, fighting.
Then I think of the neighbor boy; Peter, was it? I remember him and his siblings and how I've always wanted to talk to them. I've never really seen them until now.
Peter didn't seem scared of anything out there. That's how I used to be, fearless, but that was until the war started. We're all afraid of bombs now.
Did you like it? I hope you did! Please review review review! And if you can, read my Hunger Games ff, Bring Me Back to Life: The Story of the 66th Hunger Games. I would appreciate reviews and follows on that too! Thanks for reading!
I'll be updating both stories as often as I can. I'm very busy!
Sing Out! 3
SW