Sometimes when I read, the characters seem real to me. To me, it's a sign of an excellent book, if the characters meld themslves into my consciousness and become a part of my existence. For a little while at least. I will talk about them as if they truly exist. You may find it quite strange but I have been this way since I was a small girl. I do remember the first time it happened; when I read 'The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe'. I was one of those children who loved bedtimes, partly because my bedroom was my haven. Partly because I was one of those kids who always had a book underneath her pillow and a 'secret' diary under her mattress. (I did find out that my Mum had always read my Diary, a horrible breach of trust even for a small child). Bedtimes became my way to escape from my reality. This was when I first met and fell in love with Aslan.
He is depicted as a talking lion, the King of Beasts, son of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea. A wise, compassionate, magical authority (both temporal and spiritual). A mysterious and benevolent guide to the human children who visit Narnia ; the guardian and saviour of Narnia. Aslan isn't a tame lion, although he is gentle and loving at times; he is also powerful and incredibly dangerous. He became a character I wanted to meet in real life. I would often dream about running my little hands through his mane.
Each night, when all was quiet I would drag my large book of fantasies out from under my pillow. My Mum always left my bedroom door ajar at night, so that I could see the light from the hall and not be frightened. I used this shaft of light to read with. I would sit up in my bed and wearing only my nightdress, I would dive into my fantasy - Narnia.
During each chapter I loved Aslan more than before. He was probably my ultimate fantasy hero. Dependable, stolid, courageous. I came to the Chapter where Jadis demanded Edmunds life and Aslan offered himself in his stead. I was stunned. There must be a way around this, a loophole of some kind. This cannot happen.
On the night the sacrice occurred, I hid behind a rock with Lucy and Susan. Watching on in secret, I looked on as the one I loved was mocked and taunted. I willed him to shake his mane arrogantly and murder them all!! Give me a bow and arrow, a sword! I have to protect him, stop this from happening! I watched him climb on to the Stone Table. I heard The White Witch humiliate him. Tears ran down my face as she dragged the blade across his throat. When the enemies had dispersed, I pulled my nightdress up to my knees with one hand and grabbed Lucys hand with the other. Shivering, we ran to Aslans dead body. I slung my arms around him in disbelief. It just felt so incredibly wrong. I was angry at Edmund. At Aslan. At The White Witch.
That night I sobbed myself to sleep.
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