#peterpanimagie

A.N: This became a lot longer than I first anticipated...

You awoke with a throbbing head, like there was a jackhammer pounding relentlessly against your skull. It was a struggle just to open your eyes as, even in the endless night of Neverland, the brightness of torch and moonlight proved to be too much for your newly opened eyes.

Lying, dejectedly, on what you guessed to be forest floor you thought back to the last thing that you could remember. You had been with your father, aboard the Jolly Roger, sailing upon the open sea. Your father had warned you about staying on the top decks, alone, whilst the rest of the crew slept below. You hadn’t listened, you never listened.

You had always loved the night, the endless dark sky, and you were never able to appreciate the never-ending nightfall while the crew was around as there was always so much work to be done. So, whilst the crew slept below, you had tiptoed to the top deck.

It was breathtaking. 

It seemed different somehow, without the raucous of your father’s crew to distract you. You could see an endless array of twinkling stars, the bright glimmer of the impossible moon and, in the distance, you could even see the mainland.

You had never set foot on Neverland, your father would never allow it, but you had always felt impossibly drawn to it. It was as though you were looking for something, something you knew you would find in Neverland. It was a disconcerting feeling to say the least.

As much as you dreamed of seeing the mystical land you knew that it wasn’t safe. Your father wasn’t an idiot, he was a pirate captain after all, he had told you everything about Neverland; about the tyrannous Peter Pan, the Lost Boys and even the nightmarish Shadow. It wasn’t surprising, therefore, that when the Shadow appeared before your very eyes you screamed and struggled against it’s icy grip with all your might. 

It was useless really, if the shadow wanted to take you there was hardly anything you could have done to stop it, but that hadn’t stopped you from trying. You had fought and fought with everything you had, you had even started to hope that it might be working. But your hope was shattered as your world began fading away into a sleep-like darkness. The last thing you had felt before drifting away entirely was the eerie feeling of weightlessness. 

And now, you were lying on the forest floor, berating yourself for not listening to your father. Your blinking eyes were finally beginning to adjust, allowing you to make out the canopy of leaves and gnarling branches above you. Panic began to rise like bile in your throat, but you quashed it down, you knew that keeping your cool was key in tense situations. Being the daughter of a pirate captain had taught you a few things, at least. 

Trying to remain still, for fear of being noticed, you strained your ears for any sounds indicative of where you were. 

Yells, like jackals, and stomping feet, like the hooves of horses, met your ears. You listened to the raucous melody for as long as you could muster before your burning curiosity demanded that you raise your head. 

Pushing yourself upwards to rest on your elbows your eyes were met with the sight of a crackling fire. All around the fire a group of boys were dancing, although dancing may have been a kind word for it. They were stomping and lashing and jerking to some silent music as though they were possessed by something otherworldly. 

Immediately, your eyes were drawn to the only stationary boy. He seemed older than the others, situated on an upturned tree trunk he was playing a set of wooden pipes. Except, he wasn’t playing the pipes, no sound was being emitted into the cool night air. Weird. Despite your curiosity, you didn’t allow your eyes to linger for long, you knew who that boy was; Peter Pan. 

Pushing any apprehension to the side, you heaved yourself into a standing position and darted towards the thick copse of trees beside you. Running aimlessly away, you felt your fear melt away from you with each ragged step. 

Just as you were allowing yourself to feel a small shred of relief you ran right into what felt like a brick wall. 

What the hell?

You looked up and panicked. It was him, it was Peter Pan. 

You knew it was useless to run, he knew everything about this island. He made Neverland with his own imagination for God’s sake. You berated yourself for even thinking you could simply run away in the first place. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asked, voice like honey baiting you into a trap. “You could have joined in.” His face seemed kind enough but you could see all the bad bubbling below the surface. 

“Why would I wanna join in with that?” You spat, disgusted at the mere thought of going along with whatever weird ritual had been happening around the campfire. 

His face seemed to change, as though he had realized you were not going to be easily fooled. “Didn’t you like my music?” His voice had grown deeper and darker. You couldn’t deny how menacing you found it. 

“What music?” He didn’t like that answer, you could tell, not one bit. He grabbed your arm and began forcing you to move back the way you came. It was as though he couldn’t even feel you struggling, like a wild animal, against him. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear it one day.” He stated, just as you re-entered the clearing. “I’ll make sure of that.”