Category Archives: Writing Contest

Valentine’s Day Cards – Writing Contest #92

Boxes of Valentine’s Day cards have been shipped into Narnia! What sorts of general statements of affection might they contain? Will they be paired with any images? You decide!

Example: “A Kingly Set”
(Accompanied by images of Peter and Edmund respectively)
“May your day be as MAGNIFICENT as you are!”
“You’re special… and not JUST for today!”


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

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In Whatsoever State – Writing Contest #91

It’s not always easy to express thankfulness, but the truth is, there’s always something to be grateful for! Write about any Narnian choosing to be thankful despite the circumstances.

Example: “In Comparison”

“We’ve just got to make the best of it,” Lucy said.
Edmund leaned his head against the wall, knowing she was right, but not wanting to admit it. “I just don’t get why we….” He trailed off, remembering he’d said it at least five times already. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Lucy was ready to say something,  but was relieved that she decided not to. Except that she said it in her eyes, and that was worse.
“Alright, alright,” he finally grumbled. “I’ve camped in the cold, marched on an empty stomach, and slept in a cave with an ogre blocking the way out. And, in comparison, this is a much better situation. There, satisfied?”
Lucy smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door suddenly swinging open.
“Oh, come off it already,” Eustace declared as if he knew anything. “Your make-believe adventures are just that. Alberta says that all it does is muddle your grasp on reality. And besides, it makes folks absolutely insufferable.” Eustace held his nose high as if he really had anything to say on the matter. Then he abruptly added, “And dinner is nearly ready,” before turning on his heel and marching out.
Edmund was tempted – oh so tempted – to snip back, but one look from Lucy made him bite his tongue. After a few seconds, he finally said in a tight voice, “At least that’s the worst insult he can come up with?”
Lucy stood and offered a hand to help him off the floor. “That’s the spirit.”

And the winner is…

“Sandstorm” by Tom Duffy

It was another beautiful day in Narnia. The White Witch had been gone for seven years and the four Kings and Queens ruled majestically from Cair Paravel. It was a wonderful time to be alive.
“Mother, Shadowsheen is going to Archenland to show the new one- and two-year olds the Great Desert. I know I am not yet one year old, but my birthday is less than a month away. Can I, please, please, go with him?
Finbro sighed. “Yes, Hwin,” as she looked at her prancing foal, “yes, you can go with the herd. Every horse should see the Great Desert and the beautiful southern edge of Archenland. You must mind Shadowsheen and the other stallions and mares. It is dangerous near the desert. Sandstorms can spring up quickly and there is always Calormene raiders to watch out for.
Hwin neighed happily and nuzzled her mother’s nose. “Oh, I will, I will.”
After three days of traveling across Narnia and over the pass into Archenland the herd slowed as they beheld the Great Desert. Spreading across the vista, a vast yellow expanse merged with the distant horizon.
Shadowsheen cautioned the foals as they gathered around him near the flowing waters of the Winding Arrow. “I must warn you all to be especially watchful of the sky. Sandstorms can spring up very quickly. If you see it darkening head back to the north. Keep the sun on you right in the morning and on your left in the afternoon. This will keep you heading to Narnia and the North. Be watchful of anyone you see or meet out in the desert. There are Calormene raiders around who are always looking for horses to capture and take back to Tashbaan. If you are captured, do not ever speak. If they find out you are a talking horse they will keep you ever so closely guarded. Now go, be careful, and explore the Great Desert. There is no place like it in Narnia.”
Hwin joined the rest in a mad scramble to the south. Oh, how different the sand feels from the heathery hills of Narnia. The foals frolicked for several days at the edge of the desert, never going too far from the waters of the Winding Arrow.
Hwin soon began to be weary of the more boisterous members of the herd and began to wander by herself further and further from the rest. “I need some quiet time away from everyone else. The older horses are so loud and pushy. Always wanting to race or get into fights over other mares. I didn’t come here to choose a mate. I am not even a year old. My mother would be furious if anything happened,” thought Hwin.
As Hwin wandered, she didn’t notice the wind as it slowly picked up speed. All at once she started. “How did it get so dark so quickly, it isn’t even lunchtime?” She looked around and saw on her right a massive billowing, pulsating, and dark shape. It was all shades of brown and tan and black flowing through the air getting blacker and blacker as it closed in on her. “Oh, Aslan,” she cried, “a sandstorm! I must try and save myself. What did Shadowsheen say? Keep the sun on my right in the morning and left in the afternoon. But what if it lunchtime and there is no shadow, then what do I do? The storm is on my right so it must be coming from the south so I will keep it on my right and try and run around it I will be heading north.”
Alas, it was not to be. The sandstorm was moving in from the north-east and poor Hwin was blindly running further and further south. Hwin also did not known how fast a sandstorm can move and that it was impossible to outrun. Very soon the storm engulfed her in clouds of billowing, biting, sharp sand. After three minutes Hwin couldn’t breathe. She quickly slowed down and tried find some place to get out of the storm. She thought she saw a darker something ahead and ran towards it. She didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was had to be better than staying out in the sandstorm. When she reached it she saw it was a small mound or outcropping of some kind. She quickly found the side that seemed to have the weakest winds. She settled slowly down as close to the sides as she could and lowered her head to cover it with her hoofs to try and keep the sand out of her nostrils. She found that if she got as small as she could, the shape blocked most of the wind and the blowing sand didn’t sting as much. Exhausted and tired out, Hwin slowly fell asleep in the protection of the shape.
Hwin was woken up several hours later by the feeling of a rope being dropped around her neck. Hwin snapped her eyes open, sprang up and almost let out a yell before she saw who were around her. Twelve or fifteen men in flowing robes were all around trying to put their camp back together. Calormenes! The storm had passed and Hwin realized that she had run in the wrong direction, away from safety and her herd. She had been captured by Calormene raiders who had hunkered down during the storm. She saw that what she had taken for a rock was actually a low tent.
“By the Bolt of Tash,” said a harsh voice, which held the end of the rope, “this is a beautiful horse that has fallen in to our laps.”
Hwin was never so glad to hear a Calormene voice. She would have lost her life in the sandstorm if it wasn’t for the tent that sheltered her. “Oh, Aslan, thank you for saving me, I would have died with these men. I hope I can repay you for saving my life somehow,” she thought.


Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last .


Always Winter, Never Christmas – Writing Contest #90

In honour of our Summer Challenge, this writing contest is appropriately themed to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Even as we experience summer on this side of the wardrobe door, imagine what it was like for the Narnians to have only one season for one hundred years. How did they conduct themselves during this time? The floor is open for any variety of entries: serious tales about everyday struggles or rebellious Christmas parties, fun stories of playing in the snow or general family-and-friend bonding time, long-winded pieces or short ones, whatever strikes your fancy!

Example: “Redder Than Holly”
Mother was not doing well. Fifteen years of straight winter had taken its toll on her: she was near-bedridden most days and half-delirious more often than not. Tumnus worried for her. She was not gone, not yet, and he had to take care of her as best as he knew how. What recourse did he have? Even if Father — no. It was no good thinking about Father now. What was done was done. Mother could not live on hours of knitting and dozens of flute-songs. She needed these precious packages of food.
Tumnus shivered in the cold. Father was not here. Mother need not know. Mother may not even notice. Much as he wanted her to recover, this much worked in his favour: Mother would not suffer a broken heart over his broken promises.
At last, he reached home and thawed his fingers over the crackling fire. “It’s cold out there today, Mother,” he said with forced cheerfulness. She didn’t respond, but he hadn’t expected her to: she hadn’t spoken in such a long time. Keeping up a stream of chatter for the both of them, Tumnus prepared lunch: tea, bread and butter, a slice of ham, and, from the new provisions, a handful of dried cranberries. “Here we are, Mother,” he announced as he approached her bed with the tray.
Mother turned her eyes from the fire to smile at him. Her hands pushed something — a package — toward him. On top, in neat and careful letters, were written the words “Merry Christmas”. Tumnus’ heart froze. Ill as she was, Mother had remembered Christmas. And after what he had done — what was he to do? He fought the urge to check over his shoulder for the Secret Police. Instead, he set down the tray and unwrapped the paper. The scarf inside was long and bright red, redder than holly. “It’s lovely, Mother; thank you.” He wrapped it around his neck. “And it’s warm too!”
Mother smiled again and they tucked into their lunch. Tumnus relaxed when Mother did not question the new fare. However, when they had finished and he began to clear the dishes, he noticed that she had not touched the cranberries. He bit his lip without meaning to. So she knew after all. She knew of his betrayal. She knew he had gone to the White Witch. Tears sprang to his eyes and shame filled his heart. Mother’s hand cupped his cheek and wiped at one of his tears. When he finally met her gaze, he saw unshed tears in her own eyes. But behind those tears, beyond the spark of rebellion in the face of endless winter, he saw the one truth he had always known: “I love you.”


Honorable Mention

“Christmas Once Again” by QueenoftheUnderground

For a dog, even a Talking Dog, there is nothing better than jumping around in freshly fallen snow, even if the snow had been around for roughly 100 years. Rasee was born inside a small, warm cave and her parents kept her inside, trying to protect their pup. But after a few years of being kept inside, Rasee was determined to put her tiny paws into the white fluffy goodness.

Tentatively, Rasee sniffed around and then took one step. “IT’S WET!” she cried, jumping backwards. “It’s wet yet solid! It’s weird.”

She ran forward and jumped into the snow, bounding around with little barking huffs. She rolled around and snuffed as the snow got up her nose.

“Oh, I have been missing out,” Rasee happily mumbled, burrowing a tunnel through the deep snow. Her orangey fur was getting soaked, but she didn’t care, she was having fun. Yet, somewhere in her Dog brain, she remembered her mother telling her about someone called White Witch.

“Be careful,” her mother would say. “If you hear the sound of bells in the distance, get to the cave as quickly as you can. Stay away from the Witch lest you be turned to stone for knowing and following Aslan. She always can tell a follower.”

But Mother was away and the snow was fun. Rasee bounded up and down, rolling around, till she was quite frozen.


Jingle, jingle.

Rasee’s brown ears perked as she heard bells in the distance. She wiggled out of the snow and glanced around.

“What do I do? What do I do? Where’s the cave?” She glanced around frantically, circling around and around. There was a snowbank to her left. Quickly, she jumped in and burrowed in, not realizing that her fluffy tail stuck out.

The sound of bells became louder and louder, though muted by the snow in her ears. Suddenly they stopped. Rasee felt the heavy plodding of boots in the snow coming up behind her. Something gently tugged her tail.

“No… no… no…” Rasee thought.

“Come out,” she thought she heard a voice say. “You’ll suffocate, you know.”

Rasee tried to wiggle, but found herself stuck.

Suddenly, Rasee felt hands coming in at her sides. She felt them push the snow away and grab her sides. Slowly, she was pulled out of the snow bank. She sneezed the snow out of her pink nose and shook herself. She looked up at whoever pulled her out of the snow.

“That’s a good, Dog,” a man said. He gently scratched around her ears. “We’re friends.” Rasee didn’t know why she should trust the man, but his large size and smiling face put her at ease. He led Rasee back to her cave, set fresh straw down for her to lay on and lit a fire in the mantle.

“Warm up now, cool down later,” he said with a smile. He dug into his pocket and took out a large bone, wrapped in a red ribbon. Rasee took it with a soft mouth and set it at her paws. She looked at him.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“The bearer of good news,” he said, crouching low to her level. His tasseled hat hung over his face. He moved it aside and ran his hand over her head. “When I come, it means the Witch’s reign is nearing the end. I come to not only bring gifts, but to tell you that Aslan is on the move.”

Rasee’s tail wagged. “Good,” she said.

“When the snow melts, head to the Stone Table, that’s where you’ll find the best gift.”

“Aslan? He’s back?”

“Indeed. Now, I have more work to do.” He stood up and stretched his back. “Merry Christmas, Rasee. It is a Merry Christmas indeed with Aslan back.”

Rasee settled into the straw and started to chew on her bone. The sooner she could finish, the sooner the snow would melt, the sooner she could meet Aslan.


And the winner is…

“Hope” by AGB

Snow, snow. Nothing but snow. The icicle air that clung to his face, the frigid flakes that numbed his hooves and froze his tail.

The Centaur hadn’t seen the warm rays of the smiling sun for a hundred years; they had always been buried underneath the gray, menacing clouds. The trees were chillingly still as he stalked through the forest, almost like they were…but no, he mustn’t let himself even consider that possibility.

Gleaming icicles hung from their branches like daggers, aimed at the heart of the frozen earth beneath them. There was the stream, once so cheerful and alive, but now as cold and dead as the world that surrounded it, its glassy surface like the eyes of a corpse. The Centaur leaned over the edge of the chilled bank to find his own reflection gazing back at him. His nose was red, his lips were blue, the tip of his beard was frozen.

And there was that feeling. That anguish that constricted his heart with a freezing grip. It seemed to be permanently embedded in his chest, like he had swallowed a chunk of heavy, rock-hard ice.

Then he saw it. It was just a flash, a blur in his vision, for a moment as he turned his head away from the still stream. Frantically, he tried to find it again. He stepped forward. Could it be? No, he must have imagined it. The everlasting snow had stolen his spirit, and now it had stolen his sanity.

But there it was again! A flash of…color. Bright color. It was just peeking out behind that tree. He bolted toward it, his body trembling because of something more than just the cold. He reached the tree. And he found it! Four strands of radiantly green grass, poking out from the frozen wasteland beneath them. The Centaur’s breathing quickened. Something was happening. Something that hadn’t happened in one hundred years. The forest was thawing.

Then the unthinkable happened. The tree that stood tall and strong and still beside the grass let out a long, barely perceptible, creaking groan.

The wind picked up. And, somewhere on the breeze, the Centaur heard the faint whisper: Aslan.

Tears began to spill from the Centaur’s eyes, for something had happened within him that he had convinced himself a long time ago would never happen.

His heart had started to beat again.

Narnian Usernames – Writing Contest #89

What sorts of online usernames might Narnians come up for themselves? Funny? Serious? Random? Might they have multiple usernames for different purposes? Now’s your chance to find out!

Examples: Trufflehunter – ImABadgerIAm
Shift – Mouthpiece_of_Tashlan
Caspian X – NavigatorX


Honorable Mentions

Jaygee: Lucy – Valiant_Lioness

Lil: Edmund – ServantofAslan

Jaygee: Peter – Wolfsbane

Sterling Tardie: Peter – high_king

Swanwhite: Shasta – nobodyimportant

Jaygee: Reepicheep – ChivalrousNotCute

Swanwhite: Bree – War_Horse


And the winner is…

Sterling Tardie: Aslan – Myself


Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last .

(PS: New contest in the works!)

Thank You, Father Christmas – Writing Contest #88

For many, the tradition of writing down one’s wishlist for Father Christmas to grant is an important one. This year, the Narnians want to do something special for the man himself: thank you notes! What sorts of things will they be thankful for having received?

Example: “King Snore of Archenland”

Dear Father Christmas,
Thank you ever so much for accommodating my last-minute change in request. Your device works wonders. Cor put up a fuss when I presented it to him, protesting that he’d knock it out in his sleep for the discomfort. But he didn’t and last night was the first night in weeks I was able to sleep in silence! Thank you so much for bringing one bit of Archenland this wonderful gift of peace.
With much gratitude,
Aravis of Archenland


Honorable Mentions:

by Tom Duffy
Dear Father Christmas,
I want to thank you again for the wonderful Christmas meal that you gave us during the Great Thaw. I told my Momma that you were real and that you would come one day. The old Dog-Fox had told me stories about you and I knew that you would not forget us. I am sorry that I am sending you this during the month of Greenroof and that it is so late. After you had left us with the magnificent meal, the White Witch came by. She had King Edmund as a prisoner and he tried to stop her, but she just knock the brave King down. She turned us into stone and it took a long while before Edmund was able to bring Aslan back to where we we stuck still as statues. I told my mother that I was sorry that I lost my head and squealed “He has-he has-he has!” But she said do not worry about that, things worked out it the end and that I should never lie to anyone, even an evil queen. So thank you for making my first real Christmas a super one.
Scattertwig the Squirrel

by Tom Duffy
Dear Father Christmas,
Thank-you for given Corin the punching bag this past Christmas. Maybe now he won’t use me as a sparring partner as much.
Your friend,

by Tom Duffy
Dear Father Christmas,
I want to thank you for what you did during your visit this year. Changing all the Turkish Delight that Peter, Susan and Lucy gave me to Cadbury Eggs was a great idea. Everyone was so surprised when I opened my gifts. Cadbury Eggs are Lucy’s favorite candy in both worlds. I don’t think I could ever eat a piece of Turkish Delight again. Thank you for everything you have done for us.


And the winner is…

by featherfish
Dearrrrr Fatherrrr Chrrristmas,
Thank you kindly forrrr the suit of arrrmourrr. It will be verrrry useful forrrr hanging hats on and decorrrating my foyerrrr and other perrrrfectly harmless things.
I am rrrrrather disappointed, howeverrrr, that I did not rrrrecieve the poison I rrrequested. Did you think I would do harrrrmful things with it. Of courrrrse not. That was just a drrrream you had. It is alrrrright. I will not poison the Prrrince or entrrrrap him. Do not worrrry. It is all alrrright.
The Lady of the Green Kirtle


Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last .

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