She’s only sixteen, but she feels so much older than her years sometimes. She helps her Mom get up from her chair and escorts her to the bed. She always has to be so careful because the slightest movement causes so much pain.
“I love you, Mom.” She whispers, holding back the tears that always fight to be let loose. She cannot afford to cry- she must be strong now for her Mother and the rest of her family.
“I love you, too.” The mother replies as she pats her daughter’s hand. The skin has turned brown and wrinkly, and the girl can feel the chemotherapy port still attached. She wants nothing more than to give her mom an embrace, but refrains. Every night is another worry that she will wake up and never have the chance to see her mother again.
As the girl slips off to her own room, on an impulse, she fights through a layer of clothes to the back of her closet. She taps on the white, painted wall to only her the sound of her own knuckles, and she sinks on the floor. I use to do this, myself. As a child, I constantly searched for Narnia in my closet. It was never very magical, as my closet barely fit me even as a ten-year-old and the door has always been broken so that it is constantly open.
She is sixteen, but feels so much younger than her years sometimes. Right now she is the little girl trying to find her place in the world, and feeling as if she never will. Her mind tells her there’s no such thing as a talking lion that comes to save the day or a world in the back of her closet. She just feels like she needs there to be. She desperately seeks this magical land where anything can happen. Where Diggory could bring an enchanted apple back to his dying mother. Where maybe she could do the same. This, to me, seems pretty self-explanatory. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has had a sick family member and wondered, if they could just enter that magical land, and find that fruit that restored life to Diggory's mother.
She used to be a Lucy, full of hope and dreams. She could conquer the world. She had enough faith to get her through anything. But know she’s not so sure of herself.
In that moment, it doesn’t matter that Narnia is a fictional world with fictional characters. In that moment, it doesn’t matter she’ll never be greeted with a faun in a snowy wood. All that matters is that she wants to be a Lucy again.Basically, the girl in this part is finding her faith starting to fade. She still holds on to it, she's still sure of it in her mind. . . it just seems dimmer to her than before. And so she will search for it, reaching out to the story we all know and love.
Ironically, even though looking back, the young girl striving to be Lucy's was my favorite, at the time I most enjoyed writing the Susan of my story. I am my own worst critic, but I think out of all of the four, her character is the most real and the one that most meets the standard I had in front of me. Maybe I like her so much because she realizes her own flaws. Of the four people I wrote, she is the only one who resolves "not" to be something. The "Edmund" doesn't want to be how he is, but the words I use are less strong around him and that's for a reason- he is more unsure of his feelings than this Susan is. She knows exactly what she wants-to keep her inner child(reposted below):
She comes home from another day of work to another empty house. She wonders if the children recognize how much she herself needs to hear the story she reads to her class.
She believed in it once- just like them. When she first heard the story of Narnia, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe there was an adventure waiting for her between the mothballs in her closet. She had tried for years.
Times changed, and she grew up. She went to University, she got married, she became a teacher in a prominent school. But her marriage shattered in divorce and the edges of her degree turned yellow with age. She sought new work in a small town where all the children she taught were ragged and poor. They had already seen too much of the world at their age, so she read the story to them. I see this woman showing a side of Susan that most people tend to forget: that she was Queen Susan the gentle. So I made this woman not a scarlet woman, like many may choose to portray a "Susan", but just a gentle, hurt, worn soul. Susan, like the woman I wrote about, went through a lot. While I'm not trying to excuse her actions, I wanted to show that she wasn't just all silly frills.
The story, the one that always brought her to belief she once had. Every year, there was at least one child who seem to enjoy the story a little more than the others, one child whose eyes sparkled bright at the happy ending when the new Kings and Queens were crowned, and she wondered if the sparkle matched the one in her own eyes.
But she couldn’t read the story to them forever- everything had an ending. So she would put the book away until the next year, and let her heart sit and grow dusty and cynical. She would reject the child in her for a year.
She read the story today, and as usual afterwards she explores her own closet. She was too old for this, she tells herself, but she keeps pressing onwards anyway. She knows it was futile, but she lets a small hope creep into her heart.
She reaches the back. It is filled with dust and cobwebs, but no snow or trees branches. She, a teacher twenty-eight years of age with more common sense than the rest of the town put together, breaks down into sobs. She promises that no matter how many times this exercise ends in heartbreak, she won’t stop believing.Here is where the difference starts. I believe that if Susan had tried something like this, just to see, she would have taken it as a broken promise, in a way. Whereas for this woman, it just makes her vow annewed.
In that moment, it doesn’t matter this year is just like any other. In that moment, it doesn’t matter that she knows Narnia doesn’t exist. All that matters is that she resolves not to be a Susan.
---
Out of all of them, Edmund's shadow was the hardest to write. I think it's because I was writing from a Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe standpoint, and as much as I love him, we can all agree Edmund is quite the beast in the story. Looking over it, I think I was much to gentle with this boy who seems to be similiar to Edmund. I was hoping that by letting him be the boy who didn't want to be Edmund, I could make my point and yet be a bit nicer to the character. While I still think it does the job, if I was ever to rewrite the story I would be much, much harsher to this young boy. After all, when I first read the books as an eight-year-old, before I had grasped the concept of sacrifice and forgiveness, I hated Edmund for his betrayal. At the time, I think I knew I wasn't doing this character justice, which is why I wrapped it up in so short of a segment:
He is one of three and is constantly overshadowed by his brothers.Looking back, I'm not sure why I gave this young boy two brothers and no sisters. I think I was trying to show the seperation between him and Edmund-they're similiar, yes, but not identical. Whereas with the other characters, I was practically forcing similiarities. He doesn’t really blame them for it- his oldest brother has shining natural talents in music and school, while his slightly younger brother has a charming personality.Something else I changed- the fact he has a younger brother. This would probably be something I would change if I were to re-visit the story. He is not jealous, but he wishes he could find something grand of his own.
He remembers the story his fourth grade teacher read about a magical land, a faun, four siblings, a terrible witch and a great and powerful lion. He knows he is the Edmund in the story.I think part of the reason he's Edmund(because let's face it, he doesn't have a WHOLE lot in common with the character. A fair bit,yes, but not a ton) is because he BELIEVES himself to be. Perception can be extremely powerful.
When he thinks no one is looking, he crawls in the back of the old family wardrobe that is kept in storage. He makes his way through layers of clothes so old they could be considered antiques. When he finds nothing but a solid, wooden back, he sinks to his knees and cries.
In that moment, it doesn’t matter that Narnia is just a series of books written by some long-dead author he has never meet. In that moment, it doesn’t matter that a boy of his age should know better than to cry over something so silly. All that matters is he doesn’t want to be an Edmund anymore.
--
Now this "Peter" of my story. . . he was quite an interesting case. Despite being the first we meet, he was actually the last to be written. I like the character that came out in the end, but he was quite hard to write. I didn't want him to be this absolute golden boy- I wanted him to have flaws. It would have been all to easy to paint Peter's image as a sterling example of a young boy, but then I felt it would have lessened the impact of his longing, if not even make it feel forced:
He is not the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. He is well-rounded and average, but has never excelled at anything. He wants to set an example. He wants to show his little sister that their family can do anything, despite their poverty and undesirable situations. Here I wanted to set up, in just a few words, the typical "big brother" behavior that Peter so often displays.
He wants to be the ultimate big brother, but he is unsure of himself. He is afraid to promise to always keep his sister safe, because he’s not sure he can guarantee it, though he wants to.
He reads to her before bed sometimes, when their parents are too tired to do the task. Their favorites are the fantasies, especially the ones about Narnia. Ordinary children having extraordinary adventures. She once told him he was Peter. He took the title both as a compliment and as a challenge to live up to.
This night, after his sister falls asleep after an hour of reading, he sneaks from the room. Their house is microscopic and he does not even have a closet of his own. The only thing he has is a pantry.Looking back, I'm not really sure why I decided on a pantry. I just wanted something different from the usual wardrobe/closet set-up. And it made it easier to get descriptive, when I could write about the different aromas of the spices and such. The entire paragraphs are of different textures than the ones that deal with clothes.
The unpleasant aroma of a million different spices drifts towards him as he enters. It is dark, and he cannot see where he is stepping. He overcomes his fear that there may be roaches and rats and makes it to the back.
All he reaches is the wall with its dark paint coming off in chips. Instead of the falling snow he desperately seeks, he is welcomed with falling dust and paint chips from the ceiling above him.
There is no magical land for him to find his own worth in, no land where he could become anybody worth mentioning. Just the back of the pantry and the tears that he lets slip down his face.
In that moment, it doesn’t matter that there is no land where he can fight epic battles. In that moment, it doesn’t matter that there is no talking lion who will remind him to clean his sword. All that matters is that he’s not sure of himself, and desperately seeks to become a Peter.
So, there you have it. The entire story and commentary behind my fanfic "Tapping on Wardrobes."
the shadow proves the sunshine
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