T H E•M A N•I N•T H E•M O O N

I laid in bed as my brothers slept, listening to the soothing sounds of their breathing. The long window was slightly ajar, sending a cool breeze into the bedroom.

I propped myself up on my elbows, overseeing my brothers. John, the eldest of the two, lay curled in a ball, his thick circular glasses slowly falling off the bridge of his nose. My youngest brother Michael slept peacefully. He lay in a protective position, his arm wrapped tightly around his stuffed bear.

I tore my attention from my sleeping brothers and gazed into my mirror that hung directly across from my bed. I was wearing a thin white nightgown, that only covered the lower part of my back. My dark hair was plaited in a single braid that ran halfway down my back. My eyes shone brightly because of the silver light that the stars were casting on my face.

I gently flung my bedding quilt off my legs and crept across the toy-cluttered room to the window. I sat on the cushioned seat that Father had fashioned to the bench under the window before Michael was born, and gazed out into the starry night sky.

Tonight was not a lively London night like most. All the apartment lights were out, leaving only the moon to gleam down on the rainy streets.

"Wendy?" Michael's sweet voice said wearily. I turned to him and smiled. "Yes, Michael?" He climbed out of his bed and raced over to the window, careless of his sleeping brother.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, filling the empty spot on the bench.

"I could ask you the same, little brother." I teased as he nuzzled up against me. I smiled at the familiarity of his warmth.

"Wendy? Michael? What in the name of the queen are you two doing?" John's voice cut through the peaceful silence, worry lacing his tone.

"I could ask you the same." Michael whispered, reciting my remark to John, obviously wanting him to see that his little brother had a quick wit of his own. I grinned into Michael's hair which smelled of the wash Mother made us use when we bathed.

Even though the room was almost completely black, I could see the irritation in John's eye roll.
"Well, if I were you, I'd get back into bed before Mother and Father make their nightly roundabouts." He suggested, straightening his glasses.

I kissed Michael's head. "He's right. You need to go back to sleep." I whispered, rubbing his hand. I knew Michael wouldn't argue, unlike John would have at Michael's age.

I was still gazing out the window long after they'd both fallen back to sleep, and my eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. I was just about to let myself slip into a deep sleep filled with dreams, but I saw a flicker of a shadow in the moon.

A boy's silhouette stood, mirroring down in the rain puddles that scattered about the streets. I gasped, my hands flying up to my mouth to muffle the sound.

Allowing my curiosity to cloud my better judgement, I opened the window to its maximum expansion, craning my head to capture even a sliver of the man in the moon. I lurched my head back as a gush of cold wind rushed past my face. A pair of feet covered with green slippers were the only thing I could see after regaining my composure and sticking my head back out into the cold night air. I squinted into the darkness, searching for any sign of life.

All the sudden, a warm hand clamped over my mouth and I was tackled to the floor, making surprisingly no sound at all. A blond haired boy wearing nothing but a pair of pants that looked as if they were made of leaves was the owner of the beautiful eyes that were staring into mine. He removed his hand slowly, bringing a finger to his lips.

"Get off me please!" I hissed.

He glanced around the room, then climbed off of me. After we'd both adjusted to the situation, a heavy silence formed in the space between us. I studied him in the dark, allowing my eyes to drink in every detail about his features.

He jumped back, startled, as I leapt into my bed.

"Oh, don't be scared!" I whispered sweetly, holding out a reassuring hand. "Come, sit!" I gestured towards the empty seat that accompanied my nightstand. If John were right, and Mother did check in on us, she'd surely have a fit if she saw a boy in my bed at this indecent hour.

He inspected the chair from across he room, then tentatively crept over to it.

I sat crisscross applesauce like Mother had taught Michael years ago and faced him.

"I'm Wendy Darling."

He knitted his eyebrows together. "Who are you?" I asked, searching in those deep blue eyes of his.

"Peter... Peter Pan," he replied, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Peter Pan?" I snorted, and he nodded. "Peter Pan is a fairytale." I said, re-fluffing my bedding quilt. 

"What's a fairytale? I've never heard of such a thing." He scoffed, turning his nose up. His accent was different than mine; he sounded like an American, unlike everyone else in England.

"You've never heard of a fairytale?" I inquired, leaning forward. He shook his head, causing his blonde curls to fall into his eyes.

"Didn't your Mother ever tell you about Snow White or Cinderella?" I asked, knowing he simply couldn't brush this off without lying. "I never had a mother." He said casually, seeming unaffected by the question. At the rate I was leaning forwards him, I would be practically in his lap by the time the sun rose.

Suddenly, a sliver of light flickered beneath our shut bedroom door. Peter jumped out of the chair, almost knocking it over.

"Shh..." I whispered, glancing at the door. I slowly climbed out of the four post bed, careful to avoid the spots where I knew would creak.

I ushered Peter to the window. He turned back before he flung himself out of my bedroom.

"Wendy?"

I looked up at him, my eyes drifting across his face, searching for the reason why he hadn't gone yet. "Yes, Peter?" I asked hurriedly, my heart speeding its pace.

He dipped his face dangerously close to mine, opening his mouth to speak, but the shuffling of footsteps made him rethink his action.

"Be waiting for me tomorrow." He whispered, flinging himself out of the window.

My heart was now thundering in its cage of bone as I watched him fly out of the window, and into the night.