This is a Friday Fictioneers submission. I’ve not done one of these in months and I’d forgotten how hard it can be to condense a story into 100 words. I managed it, I’m pleased to say, and all I had to do was leave out a rather awkward reference to turkish delight. I’ll try not to be a stranger from now on, though thanks to a combination of work and writer’s block, I’m not writing as much as I’d like.
Thanks to CAyr for the photo.
Mr Tumnus could live with being the White Witch’s lackey. He was a faun, after all, and fawning was what he did best. Besides, if Aslan had invited him to make up the numbers at five-a-side, maybe he’d never have fallen under the spell of his frosty mistress.
It was only when Maugrim lent him the Dawkins book that he realised: he’d been trapped in a religious allegory all this time. Servitude, he could live with, but he’d have no truck with covert proselytising. As soon as he got the chance, he sealed off the portal to the Professor’s wardrobe.