Except One

A ferocious wind was blowing fiercely around the streets of London, making the narrow houses fold into each other for warmth. Thin window panes rattled and the rain lashed against the glass as the storm tried to battle his way inside.

On a small street, standing by a wrought iron gate, a young boy could be seen. He was wearing nothing more than a small green costume and his golden curls lay flat on his head. A man hurried past, not sparing a glance to the strange boy, much more preoccupied on getting home to his family and a warm dinner.

A woman was also battling her way down the street, her coat wrapped tightly around her. She saw the boy and stopped in amazement that he would be out in this weather. He could not be more than sixteen and as in every woman lies a mother she stopped to question him.

“Are you alright dear?” her voice was light and carried to the boy by the wind.

He turned to look at her and she gasped slightly. It looked like the face of fairytales, a youthful tanned face that hid a thousand smiles, a mouth that had crowed hundreds of battle cries, eyes that glowed with the joy of youth....it could not be.

“Yes...I am fantastic!” he answered, and in his voice held the memory of a million laughs.

The woman gaped at the child and could not answer for a moment. He seemed so out of place, fit for a world of fantasy, and his youthfulness astounded her. An energy burned from him and she could not help but feel a giddy euphoria. She had never quite let go of her child within.

She blinked and when her eyes were opened again, he was gone...but his laughing voice echoed on the winds “Do you believe in faeries?” it whispered into her ear.

And the woman found herself answering “Yes, I do”

~

Peter flew into the air, leaving the kind lady behind him and circled a grove of trees in the graveyard. He landed nimbly, the wind unable to blow him off course. His dirty feet trudged up a thin path that weaved a zigzag between old graves and tombstones. A small light bobbed by his shoulder, illuminating the way, it was Tinkerbell, the most famous of faeries.

Finally, Peter Pan, for that was who he was, stopped at the end of the gravel pathway, kneeling beside a weathered tombstone. Tink, sat on top, combing her sparkly blonde hair with her fingers.

Peter reached inside his garb of leaves and moss, sewed by the faeries of the Oak Tree, and pulled out a small, slightly crushed bouquet of bright red poppies. He lay them on the grave, placing a stone on the stems to keep them from being blown away.

He stayed silent for what seemed like an age, his head resting against the stone, Tinkerbell rubbing his curls softly, tinkling sadly. Finally, he raised himself to his feet and passed a gently hand over the stone “I’ll be back soon” he whispered “I’ll never forget”

And he flew like an arrow into the sky, a small red patch on the surface of the ground the only bit of colour on the grave of Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

~

He soared over the streets of London, passing the old townhouse that had once held Wendy, Michael and John. Oh! The stories that had been told in that nursery, the games that had been played. All memories now.

He sighed sadly, swiping small tears that dripped from his blue eyes. Tinkerbell tinkled and patted his cheek. It was all right now, they were going home.

The streets of London faded away and countryside now lay beneath them, peter flew above the ocean and swooped downwards, allowing his feet to trail lazily in the water, laughing as Tinkerbell dived in and out of the ripples.

“I’m never growing up”

Peter stopped dead at the small words that reached his ears and gasped. Who had said it? Where were they? He looked around, hovering in mid air and finally he got the sight of a golden glimmer underneath the water. He few above it and looked at the sinking girl. Her hair cascaded around her body, her eyes were open, looking up at him, and she looked like a mermaid, without a tail.

She began to close her eyes and Peter was alarmed, as was Tinkerbell. What was she doing? Did she want to drown?

Acting on impulse, Peter reached into the water, his hand grasping the girls and he pulled her into his arms. She was wet, pale but alive. He looked at Tinkerbell and she tinkled shortly in what peter understood as a “Well, if you must”

Peter smiled joyfully, hugging the tiny girl in his arms, flying off to Neverland, where he would no longer be alone.