Nearnia - The Line Which Was In The Wardrobe by Maeryn Lamonte This was going to be my entry for Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge — To be continued... but it was too hard to stop. Besides it's more than twice the prescribed length, so it most likely wouldn't count. It's raining. Lucas is bored. He finds and old wardrobe and steps into it, and we all know that magical places can be found at the back of old wardrobes.

It was one of those miserable, rainy days and the initial excitement of coming to live in such a large and mysterious house as this was beginning to wear thin. Lucas stared at the window, at the fat drops of rain which traced meandering paths down the glass, and sighed. He missed his home, and he missed his mother.

It was just this mood which had persuaded Lucas's three older brothers to abandon him and seek out their own fun. He wasn't good company they had told him, but that was the problem. No-one here was.

They had arrived two weeks earlier, evacuated from London to be safe from the bombing. They had been collected form the station Mrs Mcready, the housekeeper, who was to care for them. By this she understood her duties to comprise of cooking their meals and washing their clothes. Beyond that she was far too busy to spend time with them. They had also been introduced to the old professor who owned the house, but they were warned to keep to themselves and not to disturb the old man as he preferred his own company.

No-one would spend time with them and Lucas missed that. He came away from the window and walked listlessly down the corridor. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an old wardrobe through a partly opened door. Lucas had seen it before, and thought it looked out of place, big and ugly as it was.

Drawn by curiosity and seeking to escape his mood, he slipped into the room and pulled open the door to the wardrobe. It was filled with old fur coats and smelled strongly of mothballs. The fur was soft and somehow reminded him of his mother, so he stepped in, embracing one of the old coats for comfort.

He wasn't paying attention, so when the door closed on him, plunging him into deep darkness, he panicked, thrashing around wildly with no idea which way led out. As he struggled through one pile of coats to the next, his flailing hand came across a length of cord, about chest height to him and pulled taut. Taking hold of it as though it were a talisman to ward off his fear, he chose a direction and followed it.

By chance he headed deeper into the wardrobe. If he hadn't, he would have found his way back into the small room, and we should not have the story which unfolds, even now, before us. The wardrobe had no back to it, you see. After a few steps, it led to a space where there were no more furs. Round a corner, the darkness lessened, and round a second corner, still following the length of twine, Lucas found his way out into a hidden cloister, which as every young boy knows is an enclosed garden with covered walkways surrounding it on all sides.

It was a marvellous discovery, which he felt compelled to share with his brothers, but just as he was about to turn and leave, he realised he was not alone. On the other side of the garden, sitting in a richly appointed room that opened out onto the garden, was a richly dressed lady wearing long skirts of white taffeta and lace, and in her gloved hands a parasol. She noticed him and seemed suddenly nervous.

Lucas's curiosity was piqued. Mrs Macready had told them no-one lived in the house apart from her and the old professor, and yet here was someone totally unexpected. He made his way cautiously around the walkway towards her, ignoring her growing agitation. There was something familiar about her that he couldn't quite...

“Professor?” he asked, realisation dawning.

Puffy sleeves sagged as her shoulders slumped. She sighed and spoke in the professor's voice.

“Oh dear.”