Neverland

Chapter One

"Do you think Henry will be alright tonight?"

"I am not sure, it just seems he gets worse everyday."

"I hope by some great stroke of luck he'll just get better."

...

Henry awoke in the darkness to another coughing fit. His coughing attacks weren't new; in fact, they had begun weeks earlier. These attacks were violent and lasted for several minutes at a time. The end of each round of coughing left Henry gasping for air and teetering on the brink of collapse. His parents had moved him into a small room downstairs so as not to startle their younger children with the constant racket created by him throughout the course of the night.

Henry's new room consisted of an old bed as well as a small side table on which he kept his glasses as well as a cup of water. Located above the bed was a tiny, circular window that let in little amounts of light throughout the day. He had requested for the window to be kept open throughout the day in order to let in the cool summer breeze. As days passed he would lie in bed, too sick to get up, and listen to the world around him. He had learned that the world hadn't stopped for him, rather continued on without him.

In the mornings he could hear the beautiful songs sung by the birds and the occasional passing of a car or two. During the afternoon, he would listen to the jubilant laughter of the children playing outside as he longed to join them in their fun. He recalled the memories of the times when he had the ability to put on his shoes and join the neighborhood children in games of cops and robbers or the occasional match of football when they had gathered enough of them to form two full teams. Everyday he would listen to the sounds of the children who had carried on without him and recruiting others to take his place.

It was during this part of the day, that he realized that if he were able to beat what seemed to be perpetual state of illness, these times of play would not be the same. He wondered if he would still know how to run or be free after being confined to a bed for such a long period of time.  He longed to recreate the feeling of freedom he felt when his feet carried him anywhere he wanted to go. After only 7 years his legs had already failed on him, too weak to carry on and travel any further. He was now completely reliant on his parents for even the simplest tasks like using the bathroom.

Henry's parents had long given up on their young son's chance for survival, as there was no cure for his illness. However, they still hoped that there would be a miracle, but they didn't want to get their hopes too high. Every night before saying "good night" they would give him a large hug, knowing very well that this could be their last they would ever receive from him. His brothers and sisters, still young, did not know why their older brother had to stay in bed all day while they got to go outside and play. In fact, his family rarely saw him for the fear of getting sick themselves.

Henry's cough continued to gradually increase in volume. He reached over to the table and began to fumble for the switch to turn on his light. He grasped the chain and pulled. Light instantly lit up the entire room, temporarily blinding Henry. He then reached for his glasses and sat up in his bed.

He looked around the room and spotted the door to the bathroom. He stared at it with grim determination for about thirty seconds before deciding he would get there on his own. His legs slowly reached the edge of the bed. His right foot led, instantly hitting against the solid wood floor. He slowly began to move his left foot in the same direction. Now both of his feet were firm on the ground, he was determined to reach the door. He began to rise until he was fully upright. His legs felt the unfamiliar stress of an entire body on top of them and his knees almost instantly buckled.

Henry continued to wriggle onwards towards the door using every muscle in his body to inch himself forward. He had managed to make it halfway before needing to take a break to get some air. He rolled himself over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He imagined being upstairs again in his own bed laying in close proximity to his brothers and sisters. It was now time to continue his challenge of reaching the bathroom. He huffed and struggled onward and with every breath he was able to move closer. He finally reached the point where the wood met the tile and it was only a matter of feet before he reached the toilet. When he finally reached it he was weak and had to use his arms and legs in order to pull himself onto the seat.

He finished using the bathroom but the distance back to his bed seemed to be farther away than the trip here. Henry pressed onward eventually reaching the comfort of the bed. His journey had left him dripping with sweat and all his muscles ached but it was worth it knowing he had at least some strength left in him.

His hand reached for his glass of water. With his shaking hands he grasped the cup and slowly moved it closer to his mouth. When it finally reached his lips he slowly tilted upward causing the stale water to rush rapidly onto his tongue. In between each gulp, he paused in order to take a breath. Henry's eyelids began to become heavy just as his legs had done earlier. He placed the water back on the table and took off his glasses. The light was turned off and his room plunged into complete darkness. His parent's had left his window open but it didn't bother him knowing he lived in a safe neighborhood.

His eyelids continued to shift towards one another and Henry began to drift away into the realm of dreams. Just as everything began to go to complete and utter darkness a child-like hand clasped over his mouth.