Just as a disclaimer, I have changed Louisa's name to Elouise. I felt Louisa was too close of a name to Lucy, but still wanted to keep the name relatively the same- thus from henceforth she'll be called Elouise in this story.
I know that I said I wouldn't likely be posting a chapter until I'd had a good amount re-written, but I wanted to give everyone a good look at what's coming, and what you all have to look forward to.
Overall the plot is much more intricate and involved than the previous. Much of the events I have planned are still the same, but I've done my best to raise up the stakes so we can all drink in the juicy drama of this story.
I've also come to realise I enjoy writing in 3rd person MUCH more than 1st, so the story will now solely take place in the 3rd person.
As always, please follow, favourite and review! I truly appreciate and will respond to each and every comment.
A torrential storm, an unwavering resolve to keep her head above water. Everything hurt. She was drowning, and there were no lifeguards to save her.
Pressure upon her chest. Fur. Warm and soft like freshly washed linen. A long draw of breath that dulled the faint echo of pain that ached all around her.
All sensations bled into one another, muddying her grasp on reality. Like attempting to mix paint for the first time, she achieved an ugly gray mixture of all the wrong amounts of color. Smells that she first thought were sounds, sights that followed strange tastes; the slight pressure around her that she couldn't decide was either rough or gentle.
Something burned and sizzled. The crackle in her ear became more defined, Where am I?
There was a whisper. A name; familiar, yet distant- as though she hadn't heard it for a century, but couldn't never forget it due to its significance.
At once she became conscious of the ground; had been laying on it for some time, un-noticing its existence, yet suddenly so aware of it that it felt as though she had slammed into it at full force.
A loud bang, like the slamming of a door, yet louder, fiercer. She didn't really hear it the first time, but felt it jolt through her entire body like lightning.
Another. Then three more.
A command. REMEMBER.
The sound seemed to fade into a piercing ring by the last shot. She opened her eyes, blinded by the piercing light that seemed to pry her eyes open with all the force of a hurricane.
She blinked, the light grew darker. She tried to remember… what? Remember what?
Sirens that blended into screams. Terror. She could place the feeling of terror. Too fast… Everything is going too fast.
All slowed. She opened her eyes again, took a breath and allowed herself a moment to focus. She noticed a mass of fur curled up on her chest. Ginger fur. A pair of familiar green eyes peered at her from a face in that lump. The face of a cat.
Not my cat… that's right. She had a cat. Arthur. Where had she seen him last?
She hissed, brought a hand to hold her head as if she could somehow pry away the sudden flush of pain that shot through her mind. Images flashed like photographs, memories that should have been moving, but remained still because she couldn't recall the events between the pages.
A room on the fourth floor. A big window with a lovely view. A lonely man.
She faintly heard the echo of shattering glass. She bolted upright, the cat on her chest leaping away with a cry of surprise. Her entire body excreted sweat in waves.
Legs, arms, toes and fingers- the girl recalled she had always had them, but felt odd using them. Stumbling around, taking in the strange stone walls. Her feet were restricted by boots that were half a size too small, her legs tightly bound in skinny jeans. Her pale shirt was missing a button.
The young woman tilted her head down, taking in the clothing. She observed the blood, marvelled at how much stained her shirt, but wondered whose it was. She didn't feel hurt.
She unbuttoned the cotton cover. Not an open wound to be found, but multiple circular scars glared back angrily at her, decorating her abdomen and chest. The skin of her belly coated in a thick layer of half dried blood, was beginning to chip and crackle like dry mud as her muscles stretched and flexed with her breath.
Her skin colored bra was also stained. Tracing the plane of her clothes, she found holes… in the same place above the scars.
The woman looked up through hazy eyes, hearing that name again. Closer this time.
She took in the strange room, and realised, it was barely a room at all. More a cavern, with giant pillars and half-walls of stone that held up the ceiling. Lining the edges, these walls were lit with a glittering flame that flickered in a dance of reverence before the stone guardians that were carved upon each wall.
Some bore foxes, tigers, horses… and then there were fauns, and dwarves too. Creatures of myth and magic that she'd read about in books, seen in movies or heard of in song. They all stood tall, and each of them looked out, as though they were watching the world from a window.
Through a stone arch separate from the walls, the woman laid eyes on a carving that stood out from the rest. It was not as intricate as the others, and the figure sat instead of stood. A lion.
This lion did not look outward. It looked down- almost directly at her if she would shift a little to her left.
So serious, it's an expression, that she had a hard time looking away. Ultimately, it was the cat again that drew her attention away, for it's steps, though quiet, echoed around the wide cavern demanding her notice. She turned a little on her foot, to watch as it leapt onto a mound of broken stone. A table almost, but not quite.
She stared at the cat, it stared back. It meowed. The lady furrowed her brow, blinking at the cat. For a moment, it had sounded as though it had actually asked her a question in english.
It waited for a response, and as she stared at it in confusion, it repeated, much clearer this time, "Are you alright Elouise?"
She tried to take it in stride, but could not keep the wide eyed expression off her face. "I'm okay, thank you." It struck her, Ah. This must be a dream. That's it.
At first, it looked at her puzzled, with a frown as it repeated, "Who are you thanking?" It looked around for another being, until the moment it seemed to dawn upon his mind. All the while, the lady kept repeating in her head. Definitely a dream. Don't freak out. It's just a talking cat. You've probably had much weirder dreams before… She just couldn't remember any at the moment.
The cat's eyes widened, apparently just as surprised that she understood him as she was. "Wait yo-you can understand me? That must mean…" His head spun wildly around the cavern, taking in everything as she had just moments ago. He stood, his tail high and alert.
"But it can't be!" The cat spoke in disbelief. "This really is the stone table then! It's Aslan's table!" The cat laughed.
Aslan. Why did it feel as though she'd heard that name before?
Elouise felt the blood rush from her face as the very normal looking cat continued to speak, despite its apparent disobedience of the laws of nature. She stumbled a few steps back, leaning on one of the central pillars.
The cat looked back to her, "Elouise, It's-it's me! Arthur!"
The girl gave the cat a very un-amused look, "Arthur has no fur. You can't be Arthur." She reasoned.
As the cat began to insist he was indeed the cat she had owned, she felt a great pain fly through her head, and a great sense of despair turned her blood to ice. So great was this pain, that her hands flew up to her head, and her knees buckled, hitting the ground with a hard smack of flesh and bone colliding with stone.
In a blink, the cat who proclaimed to be Arthur, was at her side with worry. She could see him opening and closing his mouth, speaking to her, but Elouise couldn't make out the words over the sudden cracks of thunder in her head. She reached deep for a word for these sounds, and only one description fit the bill. Gunshots.
Elouise heard them as if they were flying through the cavern itself, raining across the room with such an echo that a primal fear gripped her tight. She shut her eyes tight as they began to hurt, and when she opened them again, a confusing muddle of images took hold of her sight.
A man across from her held the source of her fears. His face, a terrifying picture of both emptiness and pure evil. Dark were his eyes- as dark as the color of the gun he held at her from a few feet away.
In a mere blink, he emptied the chamber into her, and at the last shot, she felt herself falling backward- all the while she screamed a single note of pain and shock.
In a way, she seemed to exist in two places. She remembered that exact moment, and lived it, but also felt like an observer in that moment- she couldn't change what was happening before her eyes. She felt both separated and one with the girl being shot. Like it was her… and yet, not her.
It was a memory, she realised. As the scene faded, she recalled the scars and blood on her shirt.
Elouise felt her mind almost return back to her body. It was as if she had been transported into another plane of existence from the moment she'd heard the gunshots, and now that she had seen the memory, she returned to the present moment- where her back pressed against the stone pillar, and that ginger cat still stared up at her from below.
She breathed hard and fast, the sweat rippling uncomfortably down her back and forehead. She felt a slight pressure on her thigh, and looked down at the cat. His paws pressed into her side, his ears were pinned back and his pupils were large and wide.
Realising he'd caught her attention finally, he spoke reassuringly, "You're okay Elouise. I'm here." She tried to slow her breath, refusing to look away from him as he repeated these sentences and began to explain.
"It's going to be alright now. We're in Narnia, Elouise."
There were multiple things racing through her head. What the hell was Narnia? Where were they? Why did this cat believe he was her Arthur?
She felt her face grow hot with tears, and she gasped, "Why… I can't remember… Why can't I remember anything?"
The words she spoke had an immediate effect on the cat. His eyes wide and slightly pinched, his mouth open in shock. He looked both horrified and deeply disturbed.
Ignoring the cat, Elouse started to ramble to herself, tears fastly falling down her cheeks as she lost her breath again. "I-I remember someone shooting me. I remember a cat, and-and I remember he had no hair."
He retracted his paws. "You… you don't remember…" he repeated quietly to himself, watching as she continued to try and list off everything she remembered.
"I re-remember cars, and cities, and trees," She hiccuped, "Oceans a-and deserts. So many deserts… b-but where did I come from? What was it called?" She blinked as more tears filled her eyes and steady streams continued pouring down the curves of her face.
Stunned, Arthur chimed in with a shaky voice, "Australia. You were born in a country called Australia."
Her attention captured by his words, she searched for anything. A pull, or a tug, a picture, a sound, dammit anything! She shook her head, "I… I've never heard that name before."
Arthur seemed almost angry at this, desperate, "Yes you have! It's your home!"
She sobbed, his anger hitting her as hard as the anguish did, "B-but I… I can't remember that name."
Arthur softened a bit, but the frustration and agony was clear on his face. "It-It's okay… It's not your fault." The anger returned to the cat in full force as he turned away and hissed fiercely under his breath, "It's his fault. It has to be."
Elouise grew a little quieter, her sobbing stopping as she thought. Who's he talking about? She recalled the flash of the man pointing the gun at her. Likely him, she suspected.
Her own despair slipped away as she watched the emotion pass through this strange talking cat's expression. It seemed just as distraught as her, if not more.
He knows me. He knew me before all this.
She croaked, "Who… who are you talking about?"
He looked back at her, and she was taken aback by the tears in his eyes. Cat's can cry?
Unaware of her thoughts, the ginger tabby stared up at her with fierce determination through his wet eyes. "I'll fix this. Aslan can help you, I'm sure of it. He'll give you your memories back- we just have to find him."
She sniffled, swallowing to wet her dry and throbbing throat. "Who… who's Aslan?"
The tabby stood, and walked around the pillar, gesturing for her to follow with a flick of his tail. The girl slowly rose to her feet, blondish curls falling over her shoulder and tickling her neck as she did. She trailed around the column, gliding her hand across its smooth stone surface as she rounded it to stand beside the tabby cat.
She looked down at him, observed his face as he stared up at the engraving of the lion. Her head shifted as her gaze cast between the engraving and the cat. He was silent for a moment, watching the lion with almost hopeful eyes, like he was praying it would come to life and restore everything to how it should be.
When nothing happened, he sighed and spoke, "That's Aslan."
Elouise studied the lion's mane as she questioned, "Aslan is a… a lion?"
His head barely reached just below her knee, but she saw him nod gently. He explained in a soft voice, "He's the one who made Narnia. He brought us both here…" He paused and looked up at her, "but… I don't think you were meant to lose your memories. When we find him, we'll explain what happened, and he'll give you your memories back. I just know it."
"Oh… o-okay." The human had little clue of what else she could do but agree. She didn't even understand how she had ended up in Narnia in the first place. At least this cat seemed to have some idea of where they were- if the way he had exclaimed earlier was anything to go by.
She looked up at the stone wall again.
Both human and cat took a calming breath in. Arthur spoke up after a moment of silence, "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. I'll make this right, I promise."
Her blue eyes looked down into the green gleaming gems that gazed back up at her with a firmness that seemed strangely out of place for a cat. Try as she might to absorb the confidence the cat wore, deep down she found it difficult to think a cat could solve all her problems.
She didn't have much else to go on, so she ignored this deep-set doubt, and nodded stiffly. She'd trust him to do his best to help her.
"Where do we start?"
And so it begins. Over the past few days, I've re-kindled my passion for this story, but I've given it a few new twists to up the stakes. I was dissatisfied with how my previous version felt like it relied too much on the canon plotline. These new twists (and a new character) will allow me to truly solidify the importance of the main character in her own story.
Because of these changes and additions, the story will change a little- but not by much. The events and pacing of the story will remain much the same as the previous version, just with more depth and character.
I will admit, I'm taking a bit of a dangerous route with the memory loss plot. Its been done so many times before, and the biggest trap that most writers fall into with this trope is having the plot simply happen to the main character, rather than having the main character to drive the central plot.
I promise, I am aware of this, and I will be doing my best to ensure that Elouise will be driving the plot.
I hope you enjoyed this sneak peak!
The next chapters shall hopefully arrive soon. :)
Until then, tata! Have a good day dear readers.