Between Two Worlds
Today's flash fiction reminds us that the magic we need isn't waiting on the other side of the doorway— it's something we already carry with us as we find the creative courage to begin.
July Theme: Creative Courage
Big Question: What does it take to begin, risk, and share what you create?
Week 1: Beginning Before You Feel Ready
What I wrote below is based on the following creative writing prompt included in yesterday’s Beginning Before You Feel Ready: Writing Prompts post.
Prompt: The Doorway
Write a scene where a character stands at the entrance to something unfamiliar and must decide whether to enter.
Why did I choose it?
I initially chose this prompt because it immediately made me think of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, which opened various creative avenues of magic and wonder for me to explore in my writing, should I want to follow them. So, with that in mind, I sat with the prompt for a couple days to let my initial idea marinate.
But when I eventually started writing, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the prompt could apply to the inverse of what I was originally thinking— to standing before a doorway to an unknown, uncharted adulthood and the ‘real world,’ where opening the door would mean that I would have to leave a childhood full of adventure and exploration behind.
So, what follows is my attempt at reimagining what it would be like to be Lucy as she contemplates reentering the real world from the magic wardrobe, leaving Narnia behind, knowing that she will have to be an adult straight away (not return as a child, like in the novels). As she stands before the doorway in the excerpt below, she’s unsure of what walking through it means and how to handle it, though she has a few guesses, some of which are skewed by her experience with magic in the past, and others which are skewed by those myths about those who entered the wardrobe to the real world and never returned to Narnia again… which could be either a good omen or a bad omen.
My Response
The wardrobe door was slightly ajar, permitting its musty, cedar scent to drift toward Lucy as it mingled with the crisp bite of snow lingering in the air around her. An air that was slowly but surely losing its pull of perceived enchantment.
From a close distance, she saw the thick fur coats that concealed another world, their shoulders firm and steady, like sentries. But she couldn’t yet tell whether they were attempting to keep her out or keep her in.
One step. That’s all it would take to learn the truth. Of where she would begin again, to live what remained of the rest of her life.
That’s it. One step. Two. Then the final four. And she’d be leaving everything she’d ever known of home behind. The forest and their mystical songs and nymphs. All her friends and allies and the laughter and strength they brought with them. Oh, and the great castle of Cair Paravel, where she had worn a crown for what already felt like an entire lifetime.
To what? Go to a place where she wouldn’t have comfort or security, or even know who her enemies would be? To live among those who didn’t believe in real magic? To be alone?
Instinctively, she looked back to the lamppost, where it all began. It glowed softly as large, gentle flakes of snow swirled around it, just as it had the very first day she had stumbled into Narnia.
She had been hiding in the wardrobe then, frightened but curious.
Luckily curiosity had won out that day. In fact, curiosity is what had saved her that day, and most days ever since. But would it save her again in this new land of adulthood?
Did the courage she needed now come from that type of curiosity? Or was it always there, underneath and disguised by all the worries conjuring it brought about?
Could Lucy still be courageous in this new world she was about to enter without magic? Or was curiosity itself what made the magic around her exist?
It seemed impossible to accept that the same doorway that once led her to a life full of wonder and adventure and victory could also lead her somewhere mundane and full of loss. So, the only real option, should she decide to enter, was to channel the curiosity she had into something that would last in the real world, full of new possibilities. Surely it would turn into something akin to the magic she knew here. Right?
Looking past the lamppost now, Lucy thought of Mr. Tumnus, the brave fawn who had been almost as curious as her when they first met. Whose stories and music had ultimately morphed into acts of courage, proving that even those who are afraid could choose to do what is right in the end.
And that made her think about the Beavers, whose acts of courage and love, based on nothing more than stories and hope, brought about a future that was worth believing in again and again, proving that courage made everything feel like it could be worth the risk.
Then her thoughts wandered to the time Peter stood before the White Witch’s army despite doubting himself and the myths surrounding him. And how Edmund had had enough courage to seek forgiveness. None of them had known how their stories would go back then, but they chose to keep walking forward anyway. Perhaps that had always been the lesson. To just keep going, one step at a time.
She took the remaining steps forward then rested her hand against the frame of the wardrobe, standing at the end of one world and the beginning of the next.
Unlike others in the real world, she would not grow slowly into an adult, she would be thrown into the human mix as one instantly, knowing only that everything familiar to her now would stay behind.
She would no longer be Queen Lucy the Valiant, but an average woman in what she understood to be an average world, if all the legends she heard were true. A world in which no one would bow to her or seek her counsel unless she…
Conjured up the curiosity and courage she’d need to figure out a similar fate. Yes, that is all there was left for her to do. Was there any other real choice? She couldn’t stay here forever.
Before she could raise her foot to enter the doorway, however, she heard conflicting whispers coming from the forest. Some were reminding her of all those who found magic once and spent the rest of their lives searching for it again, while others tried to convince her that magic was nothing more than a dream conjured by storybooks that would fade away eventually.
And now she wasn’t sure what frightened her more— to spend her life longing for the enchantment of Narnia, or to become someone who would forget she ever believed in it at all.
Lucy closed her eyes, taking a beat to imagine what Aslan would guide her to do if he were there.
He never offered clear-cut answers, but he always had a way of making impossible choices feel less like riddles to solve and more like paths that could only be fully understood by taking those first steps they required. He always had a way of making her feel as brave as he was.
For a second, she could have sworn she heard him approach, but when she opened her eyes and turned around there was only an empty path behind her, so she rotated back to face the open doorway in front of her.
And at that moment, she knew that he, and all the magic of Narnia, would never leave her, regardless of where she ventured next. They would always be a part of her now.
Faith in anything was never about certainty. And courage was not about being fearless. Both always required taking the next step before knowing where that step would lead.
She turned back one last time. To the place she would always call her first home.
“Thank you,” she whispered, to the place and people and creatures and stories that made her who she was and who she was meant to be next. Who would always remind her of what it meant to believe in herself and something greater at the same time, and that it was always worth it. That curiosity and love were their own special kind of magic that could survive any winter of life.
Perhaps that was the point after all. The world needed the magic Lucy had now, not the other way around. And that realization brought her comfort and made her feel more determined than ever to take this final step.
She took a deep breath and stepped up and into the unknown of adulthood.
My Reflection
At first, writing this felt a little hokey, but I confess that I really started enjoying it by the time I got a few lines into writing it. I loved the Chronicles of Narnia when I was a kid, and revisiting that world, even briefly, allowed me to channel its magic into my adulthood. It also got me wondering why we don’t do this as a society— think of adulthood as a world we should enter with the magic from our childhood, instead of thinking we have to leave everything magical behind? Who said entering adulthood needs to be a drag all the time, or scary? And why don’t we insist on approaching adulthood with a level of curiosity that makes us brave and creative, like when we were kids?
Join the Conversation
Did you complete one of the prompts in yesterday’s Beginning Before You Feel Ready: Writing Prompts post?
I’d love to hear what these prompts inspired in you and your writing!
If you’d like to share your responses, ask questions, or connect with other writers, join the conversation in the dedicated Drafters Workshop chat. Whether you’ve written a single paragraph or filled pages, every beginning is worth celebrating.
We’ll be working on these prompts all weekend and throughout the week ahead, until the chat closes next weekend. And we can’t wait to read what you create!
Please familiarize yourself with the Community Chat Guidelines.
Consider going more in depth with this month’s theme with July’s Creative Courage Writing Collection.
This writing collection is designed to help you explore creative courage from different angles: discovering your voice, strengthening your craft, experimenting with new approaches, and reflecting on the writer you are becoming.
The free Drafts writing prompts posts that will be published every Saturday this month will explore the outward side of creative courage—beginning, risking, and sharing— and should complement this collection quite well, which invites you to go much deeper into the internal work of creativity with 30 guided writing prompts and craft exercises, reflections, as well as three options for guided monthly writing challenges for those who want to go even further than that.