The Original: CWWC Challenge 1

Hey guys! Here is my entry for Team Narnia!




                I might seem like an average 16-year-old, but when I go outside and follow the path around my little brick house, there is an abrupt end to my world. Instead of seeing my surrounding village, I see the edge of a golden frame. I see people dressed in the strangest clothes walking around a hall, and a million others in frames just like me. How did this come to be? It’s complicated, really.

One day, a man came down the hall. It was hard not to notice him. He was wearing sophisticated clothes and had an eerie feeling surrounding him that made him recognizable from a mile away. To my surprise, the man came up to my frame and took a brush out of his bag. He poured a sheer paint onto it and coated it all over the canvas.

A jolt went through my body. It felt like I was truly alive. I shook my hand and stared at it in awe. It was moving! My other hand started waving almost unconsciously. I walked up the path and jumped up and down. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. The man smiled.

10 years later, he came back at night and used the same translucent paint on all of the canvases in the hall. That night, I noticed writing beneath the signature of the painting. It read:

There are others, but you were the first. You are the original.


            One thing held me back though, it was impossible to move whenever a human looked at me. I was able to travel to other’s paintings by stepping through the corners of a frame. It made my life more fascinating. I was now no longer standing still for all of eternity. The people I enjoyed talking to most, were the ballerinas, the choir, and an elderly woman inside a painting full of stars. We sat there together, amazed at their beauty. She would tell me stories of her childhood, before she was trapped in the painting.

“How did you get trapped?” I would ask.

“Oh, Delilah,” she would chuckle in reply, avoiding the answer.

I would imagine ways, like if she had been running and one day found herself in there, or maybe ate a crumb cake that teleported her. But I knew that if there was a way in, then there was a way out, and I was determined to find it.

One fateful night, as I slumbered in my home, I had a dream. I was standing in a field, my painting falling off my back. My burden was lifted and I felt like I could fly. I was free, relaxed, unrestricted. I never wanted it to end.

The next morning, when the museum opened, I thought about that feeling and I wasn’t as inspired and my day didn’t seem as eventful.

After a few days, I couldn’t stand the thought any more. I knew where I had to go. I ran down through several paintings, accidentally knocking down a few ballerinas on the way, until I had arrived at the “Merlin” portrait.

“Help me, Merlin!” I cried.

“What is wrong, Delilah?” he said, aggravated.

I took a deep breath.  “I need to leave this gallery. I can’t explain it, but I must.”

“What’s in it for me?” he grumbled.  I thought for a moment, then ripped off my necklace and handed it to him.

Merlin examined the necklace, rambled something in a foreign tongue, and then looked through his books. “To leave, you must find a painting with no inhabitants. Then, recite these words.”

“What words?” I asked.

“No I can’t say it; it can only be said once. If you say it only but one time, its magic will be lost. You must memorize it,” he told me. I looked at the words and sighed.

“Thank you.” I sprinted out of the portrait to a place where I knew I could be alone, a painting called “The Field.”

I approached the edge and felt the grass. I turned my head to see if anyone was there.

“Utoo foo het ian tang galor,” I uttered and ran through the empty barrier, and I had the feeling from my dream. My hair blew in the wind, and behind me lay an empty picture frame. I didn’t look back. I just kept walking, leaving my old life behind me. I now saw things in a new way, they were now a part of my world, things that to me were previously only images on the other side of my frame.

I smiled. The orange-gold sunset in this new world was something that could not be explained but only experienced. “There are others, but I was the first. I am the original,” I whispered.

Thanks for reading!



Christmas Sig

12 comments / Add your comment below

  1. Ah, yes! Narnia, for the win!! This was truly beautiful, Josie. It had a depth and meaning to it, yet it was so intriguing and leaves the reader yearning for more. You even included both prompts! Wonderful entry. 😉

    1. I was going to say we should battle by writing, but if you want to do it that way…
      *Lucy and Susan block Clara from Emma*

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