Escaping to Elfland

On the legacy of portal fantasy in literature, from "The Mabinogion" to Lord Dunsany and C.S. Lewis.

Fantasy in Twilight, Edward Robert Hughes ca. 1911. Via Wikimedia Commons.

One night, when I was six years old, I woke up to the faint sound of bells. 

At that late hour, the soft pink walls of my childhood bedroom appeared muted and gray. The chest of drawers in the corner loomed above me; the handles of each drawer cast jagged shadows over my ballerina-themed bedspread. Every shadow was an outstretched claw, poised to crush a spinning dancer in its grip.

I shut my eyes and hid under the covers, but the sound of ringing bells soon enveloped the little room. Peering one eye over the mound of blankets, I glanced about myself. The bells seemed to be coming from behind the curtains on the opposite wall. I frowned. 

With one foot extending dangerously off the side of the bed (that was monster territory, after all), I coaxed myself from my cocoon and tip-toed to the window. 

When I pushed open the curtains, a moonless night greeted me. I could see a few stars scattered here and there, the swayi…