Disclaimer: same as the previous one, and lets just say that this will cover the entire story :D :D

…Dreamcatcher…

My calendar is probably the saddest one of its kind that you will ever find. I don't mark wedding anniversaries in it, and I don't mark parties with friends in it. It is probably the best guide into my solitary life now. I spend a lot of time here, seated at the kitchen counter, staring at the little inoffensive white and black calendar. There are many anniversaries marked in it now, although, none happy. Today has been another repetitive day, full of solitude, and whispers from the people in my neighborhood when they think I'm not listening. They think that I'm bad luck, and I don't do much to persuade them of otherwise. Maybe it's that I have worn only black for years now, maybe it's that I never cry, they think that I'm not human. I don't think that I am either.

My dog died today. Would you think it cruel to say I didn't cry? I merely drew out a blue felt tipped marker and marked it on my calendar, but then, I've realized that even if I did cry, there would be no one to comfort me. So I don't cry anymore. Instead, I just wander around lost in memories. I pour my now cold cup of tea down the drain, and wash it. Then as I shut off all the lights, I go to bed, my heart aching at the emptiness at my side where once my faithful dog would prance next to me. As I lay there in bed, I'm staring at the shadows all around the room. How lonely those few moments are between the time when the lights go out, and the time when you can succumb to sleep.

The same dream, the same hall, the same woman are greeting me, but this time for some reason, even I couldn't tell you, I allow her to pull me into the wardrobe. Over my shoulder I glance at the Lion who is nodding to me ever so slightly, to reassure me. I feel myself nodding slowly back to him, and then all is black.

I feel myself waking up slowly, and gently. As I have not woken up in a while. I can hear birds singing, and the sounds of leaves rustling in the small breeze that is ruffling my hair. Blinking slowly, I see myself in a place where there is only beauty. It's a familiar place, and the name of it is in the back of my mind but I can't remember it. The green and brown of the trees are so intense that my eyes almost water, and I can feel a soft magic weaving its way over me. Springing to my feet, more quickly then I've been able to of late, I'm wandering through the forest where golden sunlight is lighting up the gentle and friendly forest. I can swear that the trees are whispering amongst themselves, but then I tell myself that trees don't talk. Then I'm in a clearing, by a small brook that is babbling and dancing, and something is telling me to try hard to remember this particular brook. Closing my eyes, I grasp at various tendrils of memories, and brush my fingertips on the one I need. Lucy, laughing Lucy, a wolf, chasing her, no, not just her, but me."

My eyes snap open, but not because of the memory, but because I can feel something sharp against my neck, and a hand is grasped tightly over my mouth. I feel myself tense up, my hands itching for something, anything. "Who are you?"

Before I quite know what I'm doing, I'm elbowing him, and kicking him. He lets me go with a grunt, and I'm springing away across the brook, where my hands are moving, as if I'm holding a bow and arrow; but it's not just my imagination, and I can feel the carved wood in my hands. The man is looking at me, with eyes wide from shock.

"Susan?" he almost whispers, and I feel my hands trembling. Slowly I lower the weapon, keeping it taught, and a little hysterically, all I can think is that I don't remember learning how to use bows and arrows. "It is you isn't?"

"Who are you, and how do you know my name?" He's coming towards me, but for every step he takes toward me, I move warily a step back. I feel as if I should know the person coming towards me, but the harder I try the farther the answer is from me. "Don't come any closer!"

He stops, and our eyes meet. His eyes are very familiar, dark brown eyes, darker then any I've seen before. I know those eyes. "Susan. It's me, Caspian."


Oh s***! I dearly would have loved to put that in, but I couldn't just couldn't. I reigned myself in but just barely! Anyways, so enters the hero of the story!!! If the writing is a little off, I admit that I've never really written in 1st person before. I'm not sure if it's comfortable yet, but I hope you liked it. If Susan sounds emo, and bitter well…I think with what she's gone through she's allowed too, and I'll explain as the story goes on ^____^…

Review please! If you do, know that you're keeping me alive! You've saved a life 3