The Legacy of Peter Pan

Chapter 8: The Ballad of Bad Things

Skull Rock. Just the name sent a shiver down the bravest man's spine. It was cold, empty, and dark. There was always a feeling following whoever entered...like eyes were peering at them from every nook and crevice of the cavern. As Smee heaved the oars up and down, pushing the small rowboat through the murky waters and smoky fog, he couldn't help but feel as if the mouth of the cave was swallowing them up. Hook stood at the front of the little vessel, showing no sign of nervousness or caution. In fact, he held his head up rather confidently as they entered the spacious and gloomy cave. A chilling draft slithered its way into the space as the boat gently bumped against the cave's grey rocky shore. With a heavy sigh, Smee carefully stepped out of the rocking boat onto the ground, picking up a coiled rope, which he looped through the oarlock and then tied the other end to a jagged stone poking up from the ground nearby.

With a swish of his crimson coat and a gallant stride, Hook was already yards away from Smee, who quickly dropped the rope after tying it off, and scuttled over to Hook in an attempt to catch up.

From an outsider's point of view, the only thing breaking the stuffy silence of the cavern would be the almost unheard bloop, dloop, blip, coming from the water droplets dripping from the moist ceiling. But Hook's mind was scrambled with bits and pieces of vivid memories. All of which involved Pan and ended in some humiliating way for the pirate captain. Hook's fist clenched. He was done with humiliation. And with that, he pushed on deeper into the cave.

Smee tried his best to stay close behind, which was difficult with the dewy and crisp air stinging his eyes and fogging his spectacles. "Excuse me, Cap'n," He rubbed his arms, trying to maintain warmth in the almost frigid atmosphere they'd entered. ", but do you know where we're headed?"

"I'll know it when I see it, Smee." Hook was relying entirely on instinct. No one knew where exactly in Skull Rock the Bad Things were locked up, so as Hook took a sharp turn into a narrow looking passageway, he hoped they would be able to make it back out.

The passage narrowed more and more the farther they went until the two men were both shimmying down the path with their backs pressed against the cold-as-ice stone wall and their stomachs sucked in so as to fit through the pressing aisle. Hook was almost ready to give up and turn back when he finally spotted something glowing at the end of the path. Torches. Torches that dimly illuminated a dome-shaped chamber revealing a wide, round stone slab on the farthest wall of the room. A doorway.

        With a giggle, Wendy threw her satchel onto the bed that sat in the middle of the main room of the hideout. She could hardly believe her situation. The satchel landed on the bed with a POOMPF!, rising a small cloud of dust. It hit Wendy that this bed probably hadn't been slept in since she left those long five years ago. Had it really only been five years?

A muffled herd of running footsteps bounded across the ground above her, followed by a bout of childish snickering. Wendy sighed and sat on the end of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight as she smoothed out the skirt of her cream colored nightdress. The girl closed her eyes. Just the warm, slightly humid climate drifting through the underground hideout had her mind reeling with waves of nostalgia. So vividly, she recalled that slimy jealous feeling in her stomach at the sight of the beautiful TigerLily dancing with Peter. She could still hear her lullaby to Michael ringing in her ears and the music Peter's pan flute created dancing across the night breeze. But now those memories all carried a bittersweet undertone to them.

Wendy stood up and took a deep breath in to push down the slight stinging in her chest. After all, there were a hundred new adventures ready at her fingertips. A new chapter awaited.

"Wendy?" Called Peter from the top of the winding staircase. An array of various colored leaves stuck out from his auburn, mussed hair. Evidence that he'd silently slipped away from a quick game of hide and seek, no doubt made difficult after shoving himself into an uncomfortable position in a bush.