When Stars Fall

Chapter 1 - Flying & Falling

Think of happy thoughts... and you will fly.

Pan closed his eyes. He heard the loud roar of the waves crashing against the island's cliffs. Wild, agitated, rumbling, almost as if the island suspected what he was about to do. The wind rose up, driving through the crowns of the jungle trees behind him, rustling the leaves. Were they applauding? Or were they trying to drown out the throbbing in his chest that stumbled restlessly? Were they shouting at him to let it go?

Peter took a deep breath. Tinkerbell's jingling and tinkling had become quieter; by now, he sometimes had to concentrate to understand her. But right now, she was very loud in voicing her displeasure.

"I have to do it," he muttered, hearing the flutter of little wings as she buzzed around his head. She was anxious. The ringing grew louder and more desperate. Tink was going to stop him... Of course she wanted to. Not so long ago he would have just wiped it away with his hand and not cared because all that mattered... was him and what HE wanted.

He was Peter Pan. He was the hero of Neverland. The boy who never grew up. He was the sun around which the world of the lost and everything in Neverland revolved. He only ever did what HE felt like doing. If he wanted to run, he ran. If he wanted to crow, he crowed.

But now... everything had become different.

His senses were humming in an entirely new way, and everything felt different. And now... something sprouted in his chest that had never been there before. Sharp-edged stones suddenly made everything heavy, and Peter felt it pulling him to the ground.
What was it? Grief? Remorse? Worry? Doubt?

These words tasted foreign and disgusting on his tongue.

He hated it. He hated it all.

But he couldn't let it stop him now.

"Tink," his voice became firmer as he opened his eyes again. Behind him, the trees stood in dense rows, thinning out around him and opening a view of the steep, angeld cliffs before him.

"Do it. And then wait for me here", he ordered sternly.

The protest in the ringing did not cease even as the little fairy circled around him. A sudden flash, like the reflection of sunlight on a shiny coin, swirled through the air, nothing more - or so it seemed. Fine dust trickled from her body, glowing in the darkness of the night with its enchanting golden hue. It scattered over his shoulders, attached itself to his blond hair and drew brushstrokes of golden colour on his clothes and skin. The leaves on his clothes trembled from the little wings whirring past them. Shiny gold dust tumbled to the ground around his feet, covering the grass and the ground with a sheen so breathtaking that even diamonds paled like clumsy pebbles in comparison.

'Think of happy thoughts, and you will fly.'

Peter told himself again and again. He had never doubted it, and it determined his life. Think of something beautiful.

He thought of the feeling of flying, of the freedom it symbolised. Of how he had run barefoot through the forest with Lily. The taste of the sweet berries. How beautiful the never-honey glowed in the sunlight as it dripped from the combs. He thought of the melodic sounds of his flute and how Tink twirled through the air to it.

Once more, he inhaled - then he ran.

Faster and faster until the colours blurred in the corner of his eye, he flew across the ground. Grass tickled under his feet. Then he reached the end of the cliff and jumped. Peter didn't remember how often he had done this before-jumping and flying. Riding on the wind's back, higher and higher, all the way above the clouds. For Peter Pan, there were no limits.