Chapter Three: Off To Neverland
“Why would I want to go to a place that doesn’t exist?” I was enraged, this kid is just pushing everything. He first implied he was Peter Pan, the character of my mother’s stories, and now he says neverland is a real place. And he wants me to go with him.
“It does to exist!” He argued back.
“No it doesn’t and even if it did why would you want to bring me, to torture me more than I already am? To keep me in my suffering state and take away my happy ending? You know what my happy ending is? The end. Just go away and let me have that.” By now I was crying, he seemed to soften his tone a little but we still bickered.
“It does too and because, it would be a much better place to live than here. If you come with me there won’t be anymore suffering, you’ll have a new happy ending. And a new beginning. I don’t want you to suffer, can’t you see that’s why I’m doing this.” He finished off softly, inching towards me. Only then did I notice he was barefooted. Could it really mean that he was speaking the truth?
“Give me proof of Neverland’s existence then.”
“You have to come see it for yourself.” A sly grin spread across his face.
“But....how am I to fly there?” His smile grew broader.
“You seem to have a lot of knowledge for someone who doesn’t believe in neverland. Come on you know it.” He teased and prodded. I did know it but I’d feel silly saying it.
“All I know is that we fly second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning. I don’t know how to fly though.” Let’s see where this leads to.
“Tink come over here,” He beckoned to the light. “Think happy thoughts.” Well that seems hard.
“That’s impossible, I don’t have any left.” He paused, holding his tongue.
“Think of your music.” How in hell did he know about my music.
“How did you know?”
“I told you I have watched you over the years. You are quite a good singer and I was wondering if when we get there you’d sing to the boys.” He seemed quite bashful compared to the Peter Pan in Mum’s stories. Huh, this situation seems familiar, that’s when it came to mind.
“Does this situation seem to ring a bell to you?” I asked him.
“No, why?”
“You know, asking Wendy to tell stories for the boys. And asking..... you know what nevermind, forget it.” I drifted off.
“If you say so. Now think of your music and I’ll sprinkle some of Tinkerbell’s dust on you.” I knew better than to argue at this point. My eyelids closed gently, my mind filling with thoughts of my music. I felt a little tingle before opening my eyes, I was about a foot off the ground. And Peter was about a foot closer, which was a foot too close to my liking. I couldn’t exactly move away on my own so I was stuck.
“Now what?” I asked him, wondering what was next.
“We leave.” He stated simply.
“Can I get my stuff then?” He nodded. Ok so what do I need? I pondered that. My guitar and songbook, obviously, a change of clothes, anything of my family’s, then that’s about it. I gathered everything, it could all easily fit into my oversized guitar case. Peter waited patiently on the balcony for me to be ready. Just as I picked up my guitar case the door splintered to bits.
In stomped a raging Miranda along with the guy again. This time neither were drunk, it was for the worse.
“How dare you!” Miranda’s high pitched screech rang in my ears as she was only four feet away. I was leaving now so why not put up a good fight, one worth the many fights I lost.
YOU ARE READING
My Own Peter Pan Story
Teen Fiction"How did you get up here!" I whisper shouted at the owner of those green eyes. He didn't answer me. "Just calm down and lay back down. You're still weak, you need to rest." His voice soothed me a bit but I was still curious. He gently pushed me ba...
