Making Fantasia: The 12 Days Of Christmas (Taking Fantasia Prequel)

Chapter 4: December 21st

Chapter 4: December 21st

"Wendy...it's your turn to say goodbye."

Snow twinkled deftly. Snowflakes glowed on the grave like fairies in the night.

Wendy stared. The black grave. John's black top hat. Michael's black cardigan. Her father's black glove, heavy on her black frock.

Black casket

Black grave.

Black letters.

MARY G DARLING : LOVING WIFE. LOVING MOTHER.

Then, Wendy thought of the ribbon. Still a bright blue bow in her hair.

And she ran.

"Wendy!" George Darling turned. Alarmed, he took three steps, balancing baby Michael as his daughter pushed blindly though the assemblage of black overcoats, black veils, and black umbrellas. "Wendy! Wendy..."

Slowly, George stopped. Crookedly he stood, bent with grief. Feet dragging he stayed, unable to leave the only woman he had ever loved.

But Wendy ran. Snowflakes swirled into her eyes but could not begin to rival the blizzard inside her. A blizzard disorienting every thought and every emotion. A blizzard so overwhelming every time Wendy wanted to cry, she could not.

"COME BACK!"

Wendy stopped. She fell, skidding onto her knees. Exhausted, she stared through the snow. She'd run so far, the farthest from home she'd ever been. She was on a cliff, miles into the sky, leaning over the West Fantasian Sea. Below, the ocean curled against the cliff like a monster.

"COME BACK!" Wendy yelled, voice breaking, "COME BACK! COME BACK! COME BACK! COME....come...co..."

The waves crashed as Wendy stopped. The pain was everywhere. It was suffocating, like drowning in the ocean. Wendy's mind seized and shutdown. Ribbon fluttering over her head, she stared numbly at the grey water.

Then, she heard someone crying.

She turned. A boy.

The boy stared back through the snow. Several feet away he sat, arms curled around his knees, and knees curled over bare feet. Wind shook through his baggy pajamas, ripped across his ratty brown hair, and flicked tears from his cheeks, one by one.

Wendy stood. "Stop!"

The boy blinked. Snowflakes melted on his tears.

Wendy ran. "Stop! Stop crying!" Anger cracked the numbness inside her. She sprinted, seized the boy's pajama collar, pulled back a fist—

Wack.

"STOP!" Wendy's knuckles were warm. Her arm tingled to the elbow. Kneeling over the boy, she hit him without restraint. Never once did she worry that he was bigger than she. Never once did she think that her hand would bruise. Never once did she consider that her mother would have been ashamed....had she not...died.

"You have no right!" Wendy released the boy's collar. Although he was freed, the boy did not run. He did not fight back. 

She hit him with both hands. "You have no right! You have no right to cry!"

Still the boy did not fight back. He just lay there, nose in the dirt, crying as if Wendy were not there at all.

Uncontrollably, Wendy screamed. "My mother is dead!" With every word, she hit the boy as hard as she could. "My mother is DEAD! My mother is dead and she is NEVER –

Wack.

"- COMING -"

Wack.

- BACK!"

Wendy hit the earth. She gasped, trying to breath. Trying to think. Trying to take back what she had just said.

"She's...she's dead." The truth hit her like a spear. "My mother...is dead! My mother is dead and never coming back."

Wendy choked. She felt dazed, trapped in a nightmare. Shaking uncontrollably, she stood. For two steps she staggered, weighted by a broken heart.

"My father is alive."

Wendy turned. The boy's lip was bruised. His nose was bleeding. But his teal-grey eyes sliced through the snow with a disarming intensity.

For a moment they stared at each other, separated only by drifting snow.

Then the boy spoke.

"My father is alive...and he is never coming back."