Yeah, this was written a while ago. Actually, a little after Phobia was written (story by LadySaxophone). She gave me a great inspiration. You ought to go read hers as well. Despite the foreboding title, it's quite a humorous little one-shot. It's also CON, so you don't have to worry about knowing another universe.

This is a self-insert and I would totally do all this. Since this is categorized as humor, you bet that this is not meant to be taken seriously.

Rating is because I am me. Decipher that how you will.

Fears are nothing more than a state of mind. -Napoleon Hill

I do believe that the strangest way to fall into Narnia is by tubing there. Or rather, falling off a tube and landing there. Of course, I just had to have first-hand experience in this.

Yep, I was on a huge floating inner tube, being pulled along by my uncle in his Boston Whaler. Now his purpose in this little game of ours is to go fast enough and make plenty of waves from turning to throw me off the tube. My job is to hang on for dear life and pray he wouldn't accidentally run into me if I did let go.

Well, I lost, as you can probably guess.

Good news is that he didn't actually hit me.

Bad news is that I was almost hit by a gigantic ship instead.

Not the greatest entrance into Narnia…

I was rescued by one of the crewmen and hauled aboard. I mean hauled as in "she's in shock, so I'll just throw her over my shoulder like a sack of flour". I felt so loved.

One look at me revealed that I was most certainly not one of their world. A modest person, my swimsuit was a high-rise one piece and board shorts. By their standards, I was practically naked and probably in less than what would be considered underwear for them. It didn't help that one shoulder of my swimsuit had ripped off and I was struggling to keep myself decent even by my standards. Needless to say, I was extremely grateful for a towel and the promise of real clothes.

After changing into (surprisingly) comfortable "pirate clothes" (because what else would they have on a ship but puffy shirts and breeches), I met the captain, king, and fellow water rats – well, two of them anyway. By the time I met King Caspian, I realized where I was. I kept my mouth shut, though, since I didn't feel like being tagged as a loony. King Edmund (he was not High King, no matter what Caspian might have said) was certainly a character. He was, at times, serious and definitely the epitome of what a person might be if called "the Just", while other times he proved that he was still a fairly young – somewhat immature – adolescent. Lucy was a pretty young lady and seemed much older than her years would suggest.

After a bit of discussion, in which Caspian told the others what had been going on since they left and I got a brief overview of Narnian history, we went back to the deck. When I met Eustace, I realized exactly why Edmund had considered throwing him overboard. He called me a pimply faced wart and a girl that believed in childish fairytales (girl indeed; the dimbolt didn't seem to realize that I was several years his senior). Obviously I didn't take it so well, and Eustace was only saved from being given the dead sailor's farewell* by Tavros the minotaur. Oh, and Reepicheep. The mouse decided to defend my honor and gave the sap a few cuts. Ok, so maybe I shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as I did, but he really did deserve it.

As the voyage continued, Edmund put it upon himself to teach me weaponry. I learned quickly that although my dad used to be able to fence fairly well, I'd inherited none of his skill. I blamed my poor swordsmanship to the fact that I barely reached Edmund's chest. I wasn't a bad shot with a dagger or arrow, but there is very little to aim at on a ship – at least nothing that isn't alive and moving.

I still managed to find my niche on the ship: cooking. The crew commented that I made the most interestingly colored glop, schop, and gloop that they had ever seen. It didn't fool me. They came back for seconds and no one was sneaking anything into their napkins. They just didn't want to admit it (probably to keep me from getting a big ego).

Of course, I kept myself from becoming a Mary Sue (probably too easily) with my knack for putting my foot in my mouth more than once and occasionally nearly beheading Edmund (accidentally) when he tried, in vain, to teach me swordplay. Oh yeah, and the few times I punched Eustace. I said that he deserved it every time it happened, but sucker punching someone is apparently frowned upon by others.

When we made it to Corakin's Island and he warned us about the mist, I was actually intrigued. I was scared of a lot of things, but not quite sure what I feared most. I wasn't crazy enough to actually want to find out, though. Oblivion is bliss and all that jazz.

At long last – it felt like forever at times – we reached the Table of Sleepers (you could have traded them for college students and no one would be able to tell the difference). After receiving our quest from Romandu's daughter, we sailed towards the creepy Green Mist Cloud. Proof that Aslan has a sense of humor (as if my arrival hadn't been enough), I managed to be pushed front and center of the boat as we moved closer..

We pulled out the cousin of Father Time from the water; the beard was impressive. He then started yelling at us to not think about our fears. Smart move. What does he think we'll do? Dream about bunnies and butterflies? The idiot.

Remembering both Corakin's words and Edmund's comment about sea serpents, I immediately tried to think about something else. Anything else.

Wait… No! Not that! Going back to the sea serpent now! I had to go to that phobia? Why? I groaned, as I realized it was too late. Edmund heard me and looked relieved. He was probably happy that he wasn't the only one to think of a fear. The only problem is that his thoughts probably turned to something terrifying. Whereas mine… oh, I'd die if the mist showed it!

Die of embarrassment, I mean. Just clarifying.

Brightly colored, giant teardrops started appearing and floating all over the deck. Edmund and Lucy began to laugh, while the rest of the crew began nudging the things tentatively. Apparently Narnia doesn't have balloons, since all the native Narnians treated them like pipe bombs.

"Yo-you're afraid of ballo-hahoons!" Edmund roared with laughter. Yep, I'm going to die. Let the boat malfunction or something so that I can sink like the Titanic. Please? Nothing. Pretty please?

"Not exactly." I tried to go on my toes so that none of the balloons touched me. "It's more of when they –"

Pop! One of them exploded and I jumped, triggering another one to burst. It started a vicious cycle that consisted of me shrieking and hopping, which caused me to land on a balloon and pop it. Eventually, I had the common sense to stay put and thankfully the noise stopped.

"– pop." I finished.

Everyone fell over laughing.

*Dead sailor's farewell: AKA- being thrown overboard. Just in case you didn't know, they used to wrap a dead sailor in his hammock and throw him overboard as his funeral (if he died at sea), hence the term "dead sailor's farewell".

Yes, laugh. I have a fear of popping balloons. It's the noise. I had to find something that was humorous that couldn't hurt someone. Popping balloons and clocks were the only options. Don't ask.