and again and again and

in case of emergency, break the glass

sunbeams strike the few clouds in the sky and shine through before the wisps are whisked away by the breeze of the ocean. salt seasons the humid, yet moderately cool air the same way it seasons the dynamic waters beneath me.

i must be lanky, because my toes extend into the sea spray off the rock i landed on. my hollow chest burns with the water i choked on before it took pity on me and brought me here. i blink, then stare, beaten and dazed, at the odd shade of blue i've never seen the sky take before. like i'm not where i'm from.

where am i from?

i tug my bottom lip into my mouth and chew off a flake of dead skin, as if by force of habit. slowly, the water rises to cover the rock, and i'm forced to sit up. my hair is more shocking than the sun against the night, and long. stringy with salt. my skin is freckled and rough and dry, but fresh and warm with life at the same time. i examine the woolen cloth hung from my shoulders. the sleeves are long, and heavy with ocean water, as is the lengthy draping skirt.

i begin to examine my surroundings, and realize a certain odd feeling of being everywhere. like i'm here, sitting in a few inches of water on a rock, but i'm a large mass with movement and footsteps and wings and flowers and fruits. i feel the pull that the sun has on the trees, i feel the caves and the roots that grip on air on cliffs, i feel the feather-light kiss a fairy plants on a flower petal. i feel the excitement of someone new, and i know it's me.

but where did i come from?

i stand, careful not to slip, and turn away from the vastness of the ocean to see an island. it looks and feels like home, like me, but i know i'm from somewhere else. if i could just remember.

movement on the shore. little feet, kicking my sand, dragging sticks and baskets.

"haven't found 'em yet."

"lets check by the mermaids, they probably know."

i duck out of the pair's view, slipping into the water to float closer to the shore. the waves carry me to another rock, still far from shore and hidden by the tide.

"it's game! find the boy, we throw a party."

"father, i didn't mean to break the basket!"

"i'm hungry."

i duck my head underwater to block out the complete awareness. whatever it is.

"don't be afraid."

i notice with a start that the blazing sun burns low on the horizon, and i tread water close to yet another rock revealed by the low tide. i surface, gasping for air, and look up at the shadowed figure on the rock. slowly, carefully, i put distance between us. who is he? what does he want? why are the children looking for me?

"my name's Peter. what's yours?"

"i don't know," i tell him, moving further away as he stares, confused. his eyebrows lower.

"well, come on," his eyes shine darkly with the setting sun, skin illuminated with hellfire and love at the same time. he holds out one hand, nearly touching the water, for me to take. he has slenderer fingers than i, and longer limbs, better built for running through the serene forest behind him.

the boys wait on the shore. Peter reaches into the water, but a flash strikes him and knocks him flat against the rock, as if a mere glare compared to a warning or scolding. Peter's lips, pinkish-orange in the fading light, pull taught in a grin. i swallow salt nervously.

"what was that?"

"who is it?"

"what happened?"

"you can hear them?"

i nod. Peter laughs, but it sounds like a beautiful accident.

"let's call you Sting."

Sting. that is my name, i think. Peter stands and yells it to the children, who cheer, but remain beached. i swim towards them, grinning, as Peter takes flight above me.

i feel charged. ready. alive. this is where i belong, and if doesn't matter where i'm from. Peter watches me through his lashes, but it only intensifies my joy. i'm not sure why- it's like everything is right, now.

i learn from the children that this place is called Neverland, and they introduce me to all areas of the island as well as their ideals. never grow old, never worry, never follow the rules. it's lovely. i find myself drawn towards the brightest corner of the island, but the children steer me away.

"there's a lot of Dreamshade there, so we stay away. it's a deadly poison," Felix, who is much taller and older than i, advises me from seeking it out. but i know there's no Dreamshade there. i know what's there, and it's all of their fears. it's the only place in Neverland where time does not stand still. i can see it, feel it, but i can't quite reach it- Neverland doesn't want me to access such a secret.

i move on, and learn to hunt like i've done it forever, learn to navigate my own lands and sense the different footfalls of different creatures. Peter is intrigued, explaining that no one else quite understands how connected to the island he is in the way that i do. as we dance around the Indian bonfire, i tap out the rhythms of the mermaid's hearts into his slender fingers, and he holds on impossibly tighter.

the fairies show me the secrets of the land that they don't think i can see, and the Indians show me the secrets of the waters that they don't think i created. i become a part of the island, a part of Peter- Pan, as the children say- and it all becomes me. i dress as if made from roots and brush myself, collect grime between my toes and in my once-bright hair.

"the Aums will be blooming tonight," i mention absently to Nibs as we hunt. there aren't any creatures near us, but he keeps thinking he's hearing something.

"how do you know? you've never seen them," he whispers back. i frown.

"you can't feel it?"

Nibs shushes me. Peter appears to thin air with a grin full of fear and cheer, only to be shot by Nibs out of surprise. Peter catches the arrow before it hits his arm, and takes us both back to camp for the feast. he sits beside me, and though we are far from the flames, i feel them in my mind and stomach and the arm that brushes his side whenever i move.