Sorry it's taken so long to post, I finally got some inspiration for a piece. Enjoy!
Salty. Cold. Lonesome. The sea shore
was always like this for Peter.
Peter was tired; he rubbed his eyes
and scraped the grime from under his fingernails. They had grown
since he'd last looked at them. No wonder there was so much dirt on
his palm.
The young man gazed off the cliff and
watched as the skeletal remains of the Neverbird floated by on it's
decaying nest. The nest was in fact the old sailor's hat that Peter
had swapped a long, long time ago for the original nest, to save
himself. He still remembered that night.
Peter hated remembering. It was a
relentless sign of getting older. Usually, for us here at home,
forgetting is the surest sign of aging. But for Peter, he had never
remembered anything before now. At least he hadn't tried, and because
of change he could remember
the little girl he had adventured with ages ago. He could sometimes
smell her hair on the wind that brushed in from the east.
Wendy.
Wendy
had been wonderful, she had been the best mother to him; no other
girl could've been better. He had truly enjoyed himself those days,
sitting in their burrow of a house and listening to tales of
Cinderella and pirates. The pirates Wendy made up weren't half as
exciting as the real ones, here on Neverland, but they had been so
entertaining all the same.
Peter
turned away from gazing into the north and gave up finding the star.
He walked home, noticing how unusually long his legs were.
Peter's
home was now a proper little shack. He had grown so much taller now
that he could build himself a roof and even a tiny cellar. He kept
stollen rum from the pirates under his floorboards and used the
basement for his winter sleeping place. Neverland was bitterly cold
this time of year and he quickly tucked himself away through the
hatch in the floor. The burrow beneath his shack was cozy enough.
Peter loved to watch Tink flit about in her lantern room. Tink was
getting older too, her hair was longer and her face looked worried.
She loved Peter dearly, but he never acknowledged it. He knew it, he
just didn't want it. It was dangerous thinking like that, he knew,
but Tink was just a reminder of how different he'd become.
“Tink?”
Yes?
“Tink,
do you think I'll ever find the north star again?”
You silly ass! Of course you will.
“Tink! Don't
talk so. How should I find the north star then? Suggestions?”
Why don't you consult the fountain?
There
was a silence as Peter pondered the idea. He hadn't been to the
Fountain of Youth in so long he almost doubted- no. The fountain must
be in Neverland still. He knew it, deep inside that he had to save
himself. And Tink.
“To
the Fountain of Youth it is, dearest!” And with that, Peter Pan
bundled up and then sweeping Tink along, went up the hatch and out
into the cold night air. He strode confidently through the Piccaninny
territory, across the bridge over the Strangling Straight, and
reached the base of the Mountain of Discovery. He was going on a new
adventure, and this time, he swore he would forget everything he ever
did.
--dh
