1Tapping on Wardrobes

Summaries: Four different people, four different stories. One common longing- Narnia. One-shot.

He is not the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. He is simply average, never truly excelling at anything. He wants to set an example. He wants to show his little sister that their family can do anything, despite their poverty.

He wants to be the ultimate big brother, but he is too unsure of himself to make any claim to that title. He is afraid to promise to always keep his sister safe, because he's not sure he can guarantee it, though he wants it more than anything.

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 name both as a compliment and as a challenge to live up to.

This night, as 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 family instead shares a common closet in the hallway, and it's much too crowded for him to ever be able to fit even one of his legs in the small space. The only thing he has is a pantry.

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.

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 tried for years, making a trip to the back of her closet when she was upset, praying that Aslan would open a doorway for her.

Times changed, and she grew up. She went to University, got married, and 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, and her gentle heart breaks, so she read the story to them.

*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 childhood 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 it grow dusty and her heart grew cynical along with it. 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's too old for this, she tells herself, but she keeps pressing onwards anyway. She knows it is 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.

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.

He is one of three and is constantly overshadowed by his brothers. 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. He is not jealous, but he wishes he could find something that he is wonderful at, a talent all 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 always felt most like Edmund in the story, and that terrified him, an Edmund without redemption.

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 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.

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, knowing it might comfort her but could only cause her mother pain. 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.

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.

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.