A/N: I wasn't completely happy with the first version of this, so I've rewritten it and I like it better now. Thanks for reading!
Three Possibilities
She wanders down the hall, a little, golden-headed girl clutching a ragged lion. Her blue eyes are large and seem to see faraway things, sad things that wrinkle her young forehead though her mouth is turned up in a smile. This house is so big, and there are so many rooms; it seems to go on forever. She likes it; the wind blows outside and makes her feel lonesome, as if everything is hers only, to explore, to keep.
She hears the vague sound of the others calling, but she ignores them. She climbs creaky stairs and goes down dim passageways. She looks into many of the rooms. Some of the doors are locked but it doesn't bother her. She goes on.
"Lucy! Lucy, where are you?"
There they are again. She steps into a room and closes the door behind her. It will take ages for them to find her now. She looks around. There is nothing in this room, no big books or suits of armor, no paintings or pretty things behind glass; just a big wardrobe. There is a looking glass in the door; she stands in front of it and makes faces, but this only amuses her for a minute. What she really wants is to see inside it. So she opens it.
It is full of coats, long fur coats that smell lovely. But the smell reminds her of something, something sad. She reaches out and touches them, and does not notice that she is crying; if she had noticed, she would not know why.
Leaving the door open, she moves further into the wardrobe; she brushes her fingers against all the coats as she goes along, until her hand touches something rough and cold; a shiver runs through her as she steps out, where the back of the wardrobe should be, into an enchanted world of snow and pine and ice blue sky.
IIIIII
Professor Kirke looks up at the light knock on his door.
"Yes?"
He pushes his chair back; the door opens and Lucy pokes her head in.
"May we come in?"
"Of course, my dear."
She steps inside, one hand clutching her stuffed lion to her chest, the other held out as if holding on to someone. Her small face is lit up by a smile.
"We've been to Narnia!" she says. "Peter and Susan and Edmund all got in with me, just as you said we would!"
"Narnia?" He furrows his brow but smiles at her and holds out his arms; Lucy climbs into his lap and nestles eagerly against him.
He looks down at her golden hair and holds back a sigh of pity.
Her parents had not evacuated her and during an air raid, her home had been destroyed. Her mother was killed, and Lucy had lain shivering all night in the wreckage before she was found.
The poor child has nothing left of her own but that ragged toy, which she never lets go of.
"Narnia did you say? What a lovely name. Tell me all about it!"
Finis