Neverland
appeared on the horizon in a vibrant wash of watercolors that swirled
together before suddenly and explosively taking shape in the form of a
lush island.
Ari settled into a low-lying cloud to better take
in her exquisite surroundings. Neverland far exceeded the description
of any Story she had ever heard or anything she had imagined, and yet
it was very familiar.
Peter floated beside her, grinning most vainly as though the world they
saw was entirely his doing.
"Well," he prodded, impatient for her to speak. "What do you think?"
Ari sputtered her words in an attempt to express her thoughts. "I-it's
incredible!"
"Yes, I know," Peter returned smugly, bursting up through an
unsuspecting cirrus cloud.
"Come
on," he cried, coming back to grab her hair at the end of a lock that
swirled around her waist. "The Lost Boys are waiting!"
The Lost
Boys, six in all, were found deep in the Never-Forest playing their
version of Hide'N'Seek. Different was theirs from the traditional game.
Instead of one counter and several hiders, the Lost Boys had several
Counters and only one Hider. The Counters would scour the Forest
searching for the Hider. Then, as they neared the place where the Hider
was hidden, the Hider would leap from his covert spot and take off
running. A chase would ensue. The Hider was not technically found until
the Counters tackled him to the ground and sat on him. It was a grand
sport for the Boys, though the creatures of the Never-Forest were not
particularly fond of the ruckus it caused.
The Boys were about
to begin counting again when the Never-Forest, which had been dark and
damp until that moment, blossomed to life in blinding colors, rich
foliage, and a myriad of animals awakening from a deep slumber.
The
Boys froze in their tracks, silent and listening, waiting in
anticipation. As they slowly rose to stand at attention, they heard the
sound of Life growing louder and louder, heralding His arrival.
"He's back," whispered the tallest boy in hushed reverence.
The Boys erupted in a cheer just as Peter burst through the vegetation
and greeted them with a triumphant crow.
"Hurray!" The cry went up. "Peter's back!"
Peter
glowed as he basked in their adoration. His heart, and ego, swelled as
his crew made over his return. He allowed their chatter to go on for a
while longer before raising his hands to signal for silence.
"Boys," he announced solemnly, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm
afraid I have bad news."
The Boys exchanged worried glances with one another.
"I
was, unfortunately, unable to learn the ending of the Princess Bride."
A collective "aww" escaped the Boys. "But," Peter continued, "I did
bring someone back with me."
At Peter's cue, Ari stepped out from behind a curtain of hanging vines.
"A mother!" The Boys hooted and hollered and high-fived one another.
"Hey!"
Peter cried to regain their attention. When shouting failed, he gave
the Boy nearest him a hearty shove that had a domino effect on the rest
of them until the smallest Lost Boy landed on his rump. They obediently
refocused their attention on Peter.
"She's not a mother," he
declared with finality. The Boys looked confused for every girl whom
Peter brought to Neverland was a mother.
"She's an Aria," he told them.
"What's an Aria?"
"A type of song, but it is also my name," said Aria, wrinkling her nose
at them.
"But if she's not a mother," wondered the middle-sized Lost Boy who was
still very much confused. "What is she?"
Peter's eyes lit up in a way that told the others he had been on a
terribly grand adventure.
"A princess," he decreed as he sprang onto a massive, moss-covered rock
and drew his sword for no apparent reason.
"Like Tiger Lily?"
"Yes!" Peter grinned, revealing his pearly first teeth. "But she is
from far, far away and has a wicked step-mother!"
The Boys gasped in amazement.
"Like Cinderella?"
"Yes, but her stepmother was going to force her to get married!"
"No!" the Boys exclaimed in excited unison, their faces each a shining
mirror of their leader's.
"Yes!" Peter crowed, his feet lifting from the rock as he relived the
adventure. "But she ran away!"
"O-o-oh!"
The Boys stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Aria. Never before had
they heard of a girl who ran away so that she would not have to grow
up. They pressed in closer to Peter and Aria.
"Did you fall out of your pram?" asked one of the Boys.
"Not
quite," Aria answered him. By this time, she had joined Peter on the
boulder. "But as soon as my nurse was looking the other way, I escaped."
A murmur of approval ran through the Boys.
"That's
when I found her." Peter raised his sword in the air as he resumed the
story. "She was trapped by a ferocious dragon that was so huge it made
the Crocodile seem tiny. It had teeth like razors and fire in its eyes
and belly. It nearly devoured us whole, but I fought him off!" During
his tale Peter slashed the air as though it was the dragon reborn, his
sword punctuating every word. "And we flew off as the slayed dragon
sank to the bottom of the sea!" He stabbed the air once more in
victory, the sword poised high above his blond head.
The Boys cheered wildly and Peter remembered his manners.
"Ahem,"
he cleared his throat and stood up straight. He holstered his sword,
turned to Aria, and bowed deeply. "Princess Aria," he said gallantly,
"allow me to introduce you to my crew." With a jerk of his blond head,
he indicated to the Boys to line up.
You must remember that this
was not Peter's original band of Lost Boys. No, Tootles, Slightly,
Nibs, and the rest had long since grown up and were no longer
remembered by Peter, for Peter had no room in his head for those who
chose to leave childhood behind. The new crew of Lost Boys had been
assembled shortly after the first had flown away with Wendy, Michael,
and John, as there was never a shortage of boys who fell out of their
pram when their nurse was looking the other way.
The Boys fell over each to in effort to line up properly according to
height.
The
first to be introduced was Lanky who was aptly named. He was a very
pale child with pale hair that was perpetually draped in his eyes,
giving him the appearance of hiding. Indeed, he was the shyest of the
lot. Behind the shaggy hair, peered two watchful gray eyes. Like all of
the Boys, save Peter, he wore clothes of animal skins. Lanky pressed
his thin lips firmly together as he bowed respectfully to Aria. His
deerskin pouch, which was slung across his chest, tumbled down and
smacked him in the face, causing the others to erupt in glee.
Peter
was annoyed that such disrespect was shown during his ceremony.
However, the sound of his sword being drawn instantly silenced the
giggles.
Lanky returned to his place in line, blushing profusely as he situated
the pouch securely under his arm.
The
next up was Doc, named for the glasses he always wore settled low on
his nose (because he could not see properly through them) and because
he always knew just what medicine to prescribe for every ailment that
could possibly arise. His tousled black hair was parted on the side and
curled around his ears. His eyes were a merry hazel with a rim of green
around the outer edges of his iris. His skin was fair and a field of
freckles dotted his cheeks and pug nose. He wore a long black T-shirt
that was belted at his waist. From his belt dangled several small
"medicine" pouches that contained various items he had collected on
their many adventures. His pants were made of rabbit skin and it was
difficult to tell whether he wore rabbit skin shoes or if his pants
were simply too long. Doc bowed as Aria curtseyed and promised that he
would make her well if she were to get sick while she was with them.
Aria thanked him kindly.
Pudge followed Doc and was the roundest
of the Boys. He was a stocky boy with a bow and arrow strapped across
his back. He was the hunter of the crew. Pudge had a sweet, cherub face
with twinkling brown eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a laughing mouth. He bowed
deeply to Aria and presented her with a large deerskin that he said
could be made into clothes if she could sew. Aria accepted it with a
smile and assured him she could sew.
After Pudge was Tin Bucket
whom everyone called Tin or Tinny or Buckethead, if he was being
annoying. Tin Bucket was so called for the bucket he always carried
with him. The tin bucket (the pail not the boy) came in handy for many
things such as carrying water, food, mud, etc, but was especially good
for whacking pirates about the head. Tin Bucket (the boy not the pail)
was the most adorable by far. He was the kind of adorable that would
soften the hardest of hearts. He also happened to be the loudest Lost
Boy, which wasn't quite so adorable as his face. He was dark-skinned, a
rich coffee tone, with almond colored eyes and kinky black hair that
stood out like a bush about his head. Tin Bucket grinned widely at Aria
as he bowed to her. The girl found it impossible not to reach out and
hug him- he was so cute. Peter merely rolled his eyes skyward.
Next
was Half-pint, the next to smallest Boy. Half-pint didn't speak much
and when he did, he never said more than two words at a time. His eyes
were shining half-moons in a smooth olive complexion. When he smiled at
Aria, she could see that he was missing his two upper front teeth.
Half-pint had the peculiar habit of sticking his tongue through the gap
in his teeth whenever he smiled.
The last and smallest of the
Lost Boys was Squirt. He was also the youngest and had the tendency to
get separated from the others. Consequentially, he was often left
behind by the other Boys, who, by the time they realized he was
missing, could rarely remember that last place they saw him. Squirt was
a green-eyed redhead whose hair stuck out in untamed tendrils and whose
nose always ran. His oddity was the eye patch that he wore about his
head. Peter had given it to him after running through its pirate owner
with his sword. It was Squirt's most prized possession; he never went
anywhere without it. Squirt tried to follow the other Boys and bow to
Aria, but he became confused and curtseyed to her instead.
And
that was the end of the Lost Boys who were assembled in the Never-
Forest. There were others, of course, in addition to these six, but
they are not mentioned because they have the bad luck of being killed
off by the pirates, so there is no point in getting attached to them.
At
the ceremony's conclusion, Peter was off again. The Boys cried out to
him, for he had only just returned and they did not wish him to leave
so soon.
"Where are you going, Peter?" Tin Bucket called after his hero.
"Wherever the wind takes me!" was the merry return.
It was
late when Peter arrived at Number Fourteen, very much past the hour
when all children should be in bed. He crouched on the ledge and peered
into the window, looking for a way in. Upon finding no opening, he
appealed to the stars.
The littlest stars were the most impish and were only too eager to aid
Peter in causing mischief.
"Stand back, Peter," called the tiniest star in the heavens.
Peter pushed off the ledge and waited a safe distance away.
Summoning
all its might, the star blew as hard as it could until the nursery
window blew open. Peter laughed and waved his thanks. The little star
twinkled in delight.
Tinkerbell was the first in the room, as
always. She darted here and there, lighting briefly on bedposts, lamps,
and various other objects that struck her fancy. Peter followed her,
touching the carpeted floor briefly before coming to rest on the toy
chest.
Peter surveyed the room and found it to be that of a
typical nursery. A rocking horse in a corner of the room caught his
attention and he sprang over to it, thumping down on its back and
rocking wildly. He soon tired of that, however, and was off to inspect
the other toys. He discovered a pair of roller-skates under one of the
three beds and tried them on. It took him a moment to establish his
balance and when he did, he found that roller- skating was much like
flying, only with both feet on the ground. Unfortunately, he did not
have as much control over his skating as he did his flying and was soon
irrepressible. Unable to stop himself, Peter stretched out for
something to grab onto, but there was nothing within his grasp. The
television set on the far wall of the nursery was what halted his ride.
Sound suddenly and loudly blared from the appliance. So startled was
Peter, that he flew up and slammed his head into the ceiling. He was a
bit dazed and shook his head as though to stop the ringing in his ears.
Then he became fearful that the clamor should bring the adults.
Frantically,
Peter tried to turn the contraption off but only succeeded in turning
the volume up. He hovered above it looking for some way to stop its
squawking it, when the noise suddenly ceased.
"Huh?" Peter stared at the black box suspiciously.
"It's off," a juvenile voice said. "You can come down now."
Peter
slowly drifted to the floor to face the voice's owner, the girl with
green eyes and white-blonde hair who told stories. Having regained his
composure, he bowed elegantly to her, struck a valiant pose and grinned
at her. Then he opened his mouth to speak.
"You're Peter Pan,"
the girl's eyes shone with enthusiasm as she curtseyed to him in
return. "Yes, I know. I've been waiting for you."
Peter cocked
his head to one side. Such was the way all encounters like this one
began. Never did he have the chance to introduce himself- they always
knew who he was and were always waiting for him to come.
"My
name's Angelica," the girl went on. Her gaze was cemented onto him, her
eyes shadowing his every move, lest in blinking he should escape from
her.
"Is that all?" Peter asked pacing about her, still holding his heroic
posture.
"What
do you mean?" Angelica turned as he circled her, not yet able to
believe that the moment had finally come- the moment when Peter Pan
broke through her dreams and became real. And there he was, a living,
breathing being, speaking to her and wanting to know- what was it that
he wanted to know?
"Is that all the names you have?" he matched
his gaze to hers. His hands instinctively laid hold of his sword. "Most
girls have more than one, don't they?"
"Oh," Angelica breathed. "Yes, my full name is Angelica Whitney
Gillespie."
Peter
nodded slightly, having already forgotten why she was telling him this.
They were both silent as they regarded one another, each with their own
thoughts, as they continued their dance-like revolution. A question
seered Angelica's mind, one that begged to be answered since the day
her family moved into Number Fourteen. As for Peter, his thoughts were
already back to Neverland and the adventures that waited there.
"Peter-"Angelica hesitated, the Question caught in her throat. She
wetted her lips and began again.
"Peter, is...is this her house?"
As Angelica asked the Question, Peter realized that Tinkerbell was
being awfully quite and began to search for her.
"Who's house?" Peter rummaged through the desk drawers looking for the
missing fae.
"Wendy's," was the singular, whispered reply.
The
name drifted in the air to Peter, carried by the gentle night breeze
that wafted in through the open window. But it went in one ear and out
the other, not sticking to him in the smallest bit.
"Who's Wendy?"
Angelica
had no response. She was stunned that he didn't recognize the name. She
quietly watched him continue his quest to find his Tink, attempting to
take in the recent turn-of-events.
It might be quite upsetting
to learn that the name Wendy no longer meant anything to Peter Pan, but
it is true. You see, he couldn't help that he forgot; it wasn't his
fault or anyone else's. As Wendy grew up, Peter's memory of her began
to fade and when she was fully grown that memory became little more
than a dim silhouette in a myriad of memories. Much like one's
childhood becomes hazy as one grows into an adult- the older one grows
the more distant childhood is until it becomes difficult to remember.
Such was the case of all children who visit Neverland's shores then
return home to grow up- they are but forgotten shadows of the past.
But
in answer to Angelica's question, her home was indeed the home of the
former Wendy Darling and her brothers, John and Michael, and their
nurse, Nana. Though Peter could not remember Wendy herself, it was
still that distant memory of her that continually drew him back to
Number Fourteen. And that was the reason he was there on that
particular night.
A noise was heard below them on the staircase.
Instinct propelled Peter to the window- he could smell the grown-up who
was ascending those stairs and he refused to be caught by it.
"Peter, don't go!" Angelica cried, afraid that he should leave and
never return. "Hide in the closet."
Without a word, Peter disappeared into the small closet near the window
as Angelica ran to her bed and pretended to sleep.
The
door to the nursery cracked open and a pretty brunette woman entered
the room. She quietly checked each of the three beds in which her
children slept. She inspected the nursery to looked for the source of
her alarm. Her maternal instinct told her that her children were in
danger. There! Her gaze caught on the open nursery window and the trail
of peculiar leaves that led to its ledge from the center of the room.
With a swift move, she swept up the leaves in her slender hands and
flung them out into the Night. Quickly, she closed and locked the
window. Once she was convinced that her offspring were safe and sound,
she left the nursery the way she had come in.
Several minutes
passed before Peter dared to emerge from his hiding place. Angelica
threw off her covers and ran to the closet. Before she could say a
word, Peter saw the locked window and panicked. He pounced on the
window seat, and desperately tried to open it. Failing to do so, he
drew his sword prepared to hack his way out.
"No, Peter! Wait!"
Angelica climbed onto the window seat and stood on her tiptoes so that
she could reach the latch that kept Peter prisoner. With the lock
undone, the window opened easily, and Peter could see Neverland once
more.
The Boy's posture relaxed and his breathing returned to
normal. His shoulders still heaved every so often, but he no longer
felt captive. Nevertheless, he was eager to journey home.
"Well, goodbye, Angelica Whitney Gillespie," he saluted her and
prepared to launch.
Angelica looked at him imploringly. "But you just got here. Don't go!"
"I have to," Peter stated firmly. "The Lost Boys are waiting for me."
"But..." Angelica bit her lip as she tried to think of a way to hold
him. "I- I can tell you a story!"
Peter
threw back her head and laughed. "One about Hook being my dad? Oh, yes,
that was the funniest story I've ever heard. I must get back and tell
the Lost Boys. They will simply die laughing!"
"I can tell them
myself!" she blurted out. The moment the words left her mouth, her
hands flew to her face in embarrassment of her presumptuous notion that
he should her with him.
"Can you?" Peter gave her a sly look as a plan formulated in his head.
"Can you mend pockets too?"
Angelica nodded. A terrible excitement bubbled within her. "Oh, yes,
and so much more!"
Peter lunged for her, snatched her wrist and pulled her towards the
window, rising ever higher in the air as he did.
"Let's go, Angelica!" he exclaimed. "Off to Neverland!"
"Peter!"
Angelica cried out to him, not in excitement this time, but fear. He
had taken her to the window's edge and was about to tow her out into
the Night. "I can't fly!"
"Huh?" Peter's head jerked around and
saw the terror etched in her delicate features. "Oops!" he said by way
of apology. Holding her tightly around the waist, he returned her to
safety on the nursery floor. "I forgot."
With both feet on the floor once more, Angelica ran a hand through her
hair. "And besides, I can't leave Braeden and Mackenzie."
"Who?"
"My brother and sister," she told him. "Can they go, too?"
Peter shrugged. He could not have cared less. "If you wish."
"Wake
up!" Angelica shrieked, momentarily forgetting to be quiet, as she
jumped onto their beds. "Peter Pan is here! We're going to Neverland!"
Two sleepy-eyed heads popped up from their beds.
Braeden,
the youngest one, with his mussed up sandy-blonde hair, focused his
hazel eyes on Peter first. He did not appear bothered in the least by
the presence of the strange boy.
"Hi, Peter," he said through a yawn. "Will we see the pirates?"
Peter grinned. "Indians, too."
Mackenzie pushed the covers off of her feet and crawled to the foot of
her bed. "I want to see the mermaids."
"Just
don't get to close," Peter warned. In a single bound, he was standing
on the bedpost, winking mischievously at her. "Or they will grab you
and drown you!"
Mackenzie shrieked wildly as Peter grabbed her
by the shoulders and flung her over the edge of the bed. They were
suspended in the air briefly before Peter set her down by Braeden's bed.
The younger two were now fully awake.
"Can
you really teach us to fly?" Mackenzie begged to know. Her hair fell
into her sparkling eyes as she blew the golden bangs of her chin-length
bob out of them.
Peter nodded and cartwheeled to the window. "I can teach you to jump on
the wind's back and off we go!"
And
so the Story began again as Peter Pan taught three new children to fly
on the wings of their dreams. It was the old Story and a new Story, two
in one, just as it always has been.
On the
outskirts of Neverland's far shores, at the mouth of the Mysterious
River in Kidd's Creek, the Jolly Roger II laid anchor. It was a
devilish figure of a ship, made even more ghostly by the eerie mist
that clung to it like a leech. A solitary green light emanated from the
bow of the ship as it kept watch through the night. The crew stumbled
and swaggered and drank below deck, singing and swearing, while their
captain was out for the night. The pirates on the ship that night were
revenants from James Hook's crew and a bounty of new mates, more evil
and vulgar than the original.
And who was their captain? For
wasn't Hook eaten by the Crocodile who had hunted him for so long? Not
quite. True, the Crocodile did swallow the greatest villain of time
whole and that is what saved the Captain. Hook in bits, the Crocodile
could stomach, but wholly devouring him gave the creature a terrible
stomachache. The only way to get rid of the dreadful pain came from
vomiting Hook out on the sands, which it did and vowed next time to
chew before swallowing.
So Hook survived...barely. As luck would
have it, his boson, Smee, found him, cold, damp, and in much pain. The
Captain recovered from his physical wounds remarkably quick for one who
had been eaten by a giant reptile, but the rest of his recovery came
much slower. Indeed, Hook put together another crew that was far better
(or worse, depending on your point of view) than his last and rebuilt
his ship. But his psyche was still badly injured from his defeat at the
hands of Peter Pan. Perhaps it would have been more merciful if Hook
had died in the Croc's belly, for that great Fight on the Night of
Nights made Hook realize two things: He was alone and unloved.
It
was with that revelation, and his continued fear of the Croc, that Hook
had lived with for many moons. His desire to murder Peter Pan had not
diminished in the slightest- he now had even more reason to do the Boy
in- but he dourly apprehended that he could never defeat Pan in his
current state of aloneness and unlovableness.
And this is where
we find James Hook, deep within the jungles of Neverland, alone and
unloved, quietly observing the night, trying to outline a plan to
overcome his weakness and crush Peter Pan.
A noise in the Forest
put Hook on guard. His thoughts flew to Peter- had he returned? No, no,
it was not he. Noiselessly, Hook crouched low to the ground, waiting to
see the source of the disturbance.
The source appeared in the
form of a young girl, all alone, looking as though she had lost
something. Her scarlet tresses were illuminated by the moonlight, and
shadows danced across her refined features. She had an innocence that
wafted about her like a fine garment and an ethereal grace that was
much different from the girls Pan usually brought to Neverland. In fact
this girl, whom Hook placed in her mid-teens, did not seem much like
the Boy's type. No, Pan preferred the mother type. This girl was not
that all. He studied her intensely. Her clothing struck him as odd. The
gown was a deep green with rich, detailed embroidery around the scoop
collar and wide, pocket-like sleeves. It was fitted to her waist and
flared down to- Hook noticed that the skirt was torn at a strange angle
from below one knee across to the upper thigh of the other leg. In
fact, the once opulent gown was in quite a state of disrepair. Hook
cocked an eyebrow. This beautiful stranger piqued his curiosity. He
grinned sinisterly as he vowed to keep an eye on this one- perhaps she
would be the key to Pan's undoing.
