My Darling Girl *Disney fanfic*

1. Play Pretend

1900, London

Fog rolled in off the Thames and shrouded the city. Wendy Darling walked along the pavement, falling behind her friends – their conversation washing over her. She turned her, scanning the park to their right until her keen eyes arrested on a musician. He was playing a battered guitar and singing a doleful sailor's song in a deep and raspy voice.

Wendy stopped, staring at him. His hair was long, in stiff dreadlocks and his dark skin was mottled with scars and bumps. His face seemed weathered, the slope of his gaunt cheeks and sagging throat jagged - like an artist had chipped away at them.

"Wendy." Her friends called after her, having reached the end of the street and noticed that she was no longer with them. Wendy waved them on, bidding them a hasty goodbye.

Wendy walked into the park, her polished shoes clacking over the paving slabs. Fallen leaves blew around her ankles, catching on the hem of her long coat. She stopped in front of the busker, her pale face upturned and allowing her to gaze up at him with wide earnest eyes. Her expression was serious and her hands, clasped neatly in front of her, clenched of their own accord – inspiration assaulting her.

This man was a pirate, her imagination demanded - fuelled by her unchallenged heart. She invented for him a fearsome name, Silver Teeth. He was the captain of a mighty ship. Its prow was decorated not with a figurehead but with a skeleton. The bones had been dipped in liquid gold, strengthening them against the elements. It was the body of his long-time foe, a naval officer who'd hunted a promotion as a reward for Silver Teeth's head.

Her mind's eyes saw it all and her pulse quickened in excitement. The busker stopped singing, waiting expectantly. Wendy daintily placed coins in the cap at his feet.

"Thank you, that was lovely." She complimented, smoothing the front of her crisp blue dress. Wendy meandered languidly out of the park, her expression distant yet absorbed. This, for Wendy, was a moment of true happiness – when her thoughts swept her up, taking her to foreign lands in conversations with pirate-princes and dark sorcerers.

               That night, Wendy sat at her desk in front of the window - the moon shining down on her. She speedily scrawled across the page of her notebook, her writing turning cramped.

"Wendy?" Her brother John called, entering the room already dressed for bed in his nightshirt.

"Shhh," Michael urged, beckoning John over. Little Michael was sat on the end of his bed, a crayon drawn map clutched in his small grasp.

"She's writing a story," Michael explained. John's eyes lit up, with the mirrored excitement of his brothers. They both loved Wendy's stories. Wendy continued to write, absorbed in a world of her own, as her brothers played at sword fighting behind her. Michael's sword caught John under the arm and the elder boy cried out in mortal agony. John staggered back and collapsed atop a chest of drawers just as Wendy's pen clattered against the page.

Wendy reread the words she'd just penned, heat creeping across her cheeks. The handsome lieutenant was facing a cruel and humiliating death at the hands of Silver Teeth, but for his lover's sake he showed only courage as he awaited the dawn. He reached between the bars that divided them and held her hand, squeezing her fingers in reassurance. 'I have loved you from the depths of my being.' Wendy read his next line out loud.

"And shall love you 'til my last moments of life on this earth." Wendy picked up her pen but paused again, struggling with herself. A kiss. She'd never written a kiss before. Her hand went to her lips. She'd yet to have her first kiss. Wendy shook her head, no she couldn't write it. Her hands wouldn't allow it. This was supposed to be a tale of adventure, she didn't need to write something so embarrassing. But still she failed to put pen to paper and her fantasies plagued her.

"I swear vengeance on you, Bluebeard!" John solemnly swore with his last struggling breath before falling down dead in an exaggerated flop. Mrs Darling applauded, startling the children who hadn't realised that she'd been standing in the doorway.

"Bravo!"

John grinned happily, rising quickly to his feet.

"Play with us mummy," Michael pleaded – rushing over to her for a hug. She kissed the top of his honey-blonde hair.

"What game shall we play? Wendy you too." Mrs Darling directed cheerily, rolling up her sleeves.

                      Michael Darling ran along the hallway and skidded on the rug. Falling to his knees, he turned the accident into a roll before coming to a halt. His little body tensed and he hugged the wall, looking suspiciously around him. He was an explorer, on his own in the jungle close to the temple ruins of an ancient god. These ruins supposedly boasted a legendary lost treasure but he had to be careful, there was a tiger pursuing him.

Thinking fast, he pulled off a sock and threw it into his parents' room. Hopefully the scent would confuse to beast and help him to evade it. Michael crawled carefully, trying not to make a sound. The floorboards creaked beneath him – the sound of snapping twigs in his imagination. Going onto his belly, he rolled – making it into the nursery.

Looking up at his bed, the dollhouse, his and John's drawings on the walls and their teddy bears – his lips parted, agape with wonder.

"The temple!" He undid the tie of his dressing gown and used it as rope. He tied the end into a loop and attempted a lasso. It took several tries but at last, he got the loop around one of his bed posts. He used the rope to pull himself along on his belly, avoiding stepping on the traps his feet would set off.

Making it to the bed, he heaved himself up – making a gargantuan effort of the small task. Halfway up, his legs on the mattress – his hands planted on the floor – he paused. He was upside down, the blood rushing to his head, as he peered into the gloom beneath his bed. In this shadowy realm, he saw the outlines of lost objects – a toy building block, a shoe and countless buttons.

He flinched, his heart skipping a startled beat.

"Michael?" Wendy poked her head around the door. "Supper's ready."

Michael looked up at his sister.

"There's someone hiding under my bed."

"What game are we playing now? Come quickly, nana's baked biscuits."

Michael slowly padded across the room. Reaching the doorway, he paused to look back over his shoulder. His bed had never seemed to dominate the room before, now it did. It was large – something large could hide under it. Waiting for him in the dark. A shiver danced down little Michael's spine.