Red-Handed – Writing Contest #77

Busted! Narnians everywhere are being discovered doing things that maybe they shouldn’t be doing. What sorts of things are they up to when no one is looking? And what on earth will they say or do when caught?

Example: “Of Course It Would Happen to Me” by Ariel_of_Narnia

It was barely audible, but Peter heard that soft footfall from the other side of his door. He stopped his writing and looked at the time: it was well after midnight. Quiet as a Mouse, he stood up, crept to his door, and cracked it open. The hallway was awash with moonlight, but it still took him a moment to notice Edmund walking – no, he was practically gliding – toward the stairs. What could he be up to at this time of night?
So Peter followed him at a discreet distance. Edmund never noticed; he only kept on going. His bare feet padded down the spiraling staircase, silent as could be. Once at the bottom, he kept to the shadows, but Peter thought it odd that he didn’t really seem to be creeping and darting as he normally would in such a situation… whatever the situation was. Down a few more hallways and a couple other flight of stairs, Edmund unwittingly led his stalking shadow. Then he turned a corner and disappeared before Peter had a chance to see where he went. A moment later, a muffled sound like ceramic on ceramic brought him to the main kitchen door. Under one of the windows, framed in silver moonlight, was Edmund with his hand partway into a jar.
The time for silent observation was over. “Ed? What are you doing?”
Edmund started and swayed a little before he turned to face Peter. Then he looked at the jar, then the window, then back at Peter. “I… don’t know how I… I must have been sleepwalking.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter said, setting the lid back on the jar and sliding it back into place.
“No, really! I promise I wasn’t trying to -“
“Off to bed with you,” Peter said, taking his arm and escorting him back to his room. Edmund protested the whole time in whispers, but Peter didn’t heed his excuses. “One o’clock in the morning is not an acceptable time for cookies. Good night, Ed.” He gently pushed Edmund into his room and closed the door behind him. Just before he left, though, he heard Edmund mumble.
“Of course it would happen to me….”


Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last contest!


And the winner is….

“High King Peter the Thief” by Writer for God
Peter ran stealthily through the courtyard, holding his thick cloak low over his forehead. His blue eyes sparkled in the dim lantern light. A guard approached. Peter drew farther back into the shadows, hiding lantern behind him.
The guard, a young centaur unsteady on his hooves, scanned the courtyard and turned to continue his pacing. The High King, hiding in his own castle, sighed in relief. He continued his silent mission.
When he reached the door of the armory, Peter tried the knob. It was locked.
“Forget something, Pete?” Peter jumped at the sound of a voice behind him. He turned, reaching for a sword where he knew there was none. He grinned sheepishly.
“Oh, it’s you, Ed. What are you doing out this late?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Edmund grinned. “I just thought you might want these.” He held up a ring of keys.
“You rascal!”
“Who’s the one sneaking into the armory in the middle of the night?” Edmund fit the key into the lock and turned it. “There you are. Right key the first time, as always.”
“Stand guard for me, will you?” Peter swung open the door, thankful that the hinges didn’t creak for once.
“No way. I’m coming in.”
The two boys stepped into the dark room, Peter raising his lantern so they could see the swords lining the walls. His younger brother gasped.
“We should have come here before.”
“Oreius forbade it.”
“You’re the High King. He can’t tell you what to do.”
“I cannot?” Both boys turned, each trying to formulate an excuse for being in a forbidden area in the middle of the night. Peter spoke first, or at least attempted to speak.
“I… uh… we…”
“Did I not forbid you to enter the armory?” The general stepped into the room, a scowl on his face. “Well, did I?”
“You did.” Peter hung his head.
“And did you or did you not disobey me?”
“We did.” Edmund looked up into the centaur’s face. “But why shouldn’t we come in here? I don’t see any harm in it.”
“You didn’t see any harm in the witch, either.” Now even Edmund averted his eyes from Oreius’s stern gaze. The centaur paced up and down the floor of the small armory.
“I promised I would fight to the death for you, if necessary.” He gazed into Peter’s eyes. “That includes fighting to keep you from killing yourselves.” His gaze passed to the smaller king.
“We’re sorry, Oreius.” Edmund muttered.
“Yes, we’re sorry, sir.” Peter said. “It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not.” The centaur stepped outside of the room, the kings just behind him. The two boys scurried back down the hall towards their chambers. No sooner had they turned the corner than Edmund snickered.
“What is so funny, Ed?” Peter turned glumly to face his brother.
“I still have the keys!”

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