With her lamp pointed at the head of her bed, Rose laid turned towards the light, her hands clutched tightly around a worn paperback copy of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The rock sat silently on her dresser, waiting. The room was very still, and the clock was slowly winding its way to midnight.
Suddenly, she threw the book, began to wear her famously dour look. Rose sat up from her bed, put on her hippo slippers, and flopped them furiously around the room. Until she almost heard someone say, “what's the matter?”
She stopped. It wasn't a sound, really. If it had been a sound, she might have heard it as “that's a meter” or some similar nonsense. But she knew it had been, “what's the matter”, just as much as she knew how many fingers and toes she had, or that her pajamas were soft and comfy. But it was rather silly to talk to a voice that was almost, but not quite was, so she stayed silent. But much to her surprise, she replied in her own almost voice. “It always ends the same way. They become great Kings and Queens in Narnia and save everyone, but then one day they go back, and none of it happened. It was all just... just pretend.”
There settled on the room that curiously dead silence, broken methodically by the ticking clock. Rose began to count the ticking of the clock. Ten, fifteen, twenty five clicks of the clock, and nothing. She knew she was alone, and then...
“Go to the window,” whispered the almost voice.
“That's silly...” Rose said, but her heart began to pound. She could feel a thrill of excitement crawling down her spine. What if there was something in the window? What if...
“And take me...” the voice came again.
Rose stopped, and looked around the room. Take who? Who would produce an almost voice?
Rose then remembered that her sister had said the rock had the heart of a hero. A hero might have an almost voice. And an adventure just outside her window. Somehow, if she could just imagine...
“I don't think there's anything out there,” Rose said to the Rock, but oh!, if only there was! If only she could see something other than the shadow of the tree on the lawn. If there was something there...
“Go to the window, look out, and close your eyes...” said the almost voice.
Rose was quaking. If she could look out and see something, or feel something, through the window, then maybe the world could be magical. And if it was magical, maybe the bad things wouldn't have to happen, maybe sometimes something better...
“It's not going to work...” she droned, listlessly. But still, she shuffled towards the window, not daring to look up. She tripped slightly over one of her books, but did not take much notice. She took a deep breath, then looked up through the window to see...
“The tree on our front lawn.” There was a bright moon, she saw. She turned her eyes down, and brushed her hands gently against the windowsill, feeling its cool, smooth texture. “Just the tree.”
“Close your eyes.” And somehow, the almost voice seemed less almost.
It won't be anything different, thought Rose as she stared out the window. It won't be anything different, she thought as she closed her eyes. And as she opened them, she thought, it won't be...
The world was suddenly a pool of water, floating and drifting every which way. Light seemed to bounce, and somehow the stars seemed brighter and bigger, and the moon almost like the sun. Without realizing, Rose opened her mouth and smiled widely, her eyes growing large, and reached through her window, and watched as the whole world seems to flow and shift with her touch.
“I told you. Sometimes you just need to try a little faith,” and there was no doubt that this voice was no longer almost at all, and was coming from...
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