The Way to Believe

“Wendy!!!” I spun around; a tall blonde guy was waving at me. I was walking down our, well my, or no ‘cause I don’t live there anymore, street.

I spun around and scowled, “What are you like Peter Pan or something?”

His face blanched, and he stuttered, “W-what?”

“Wrong person. I guess,” Okay I was being a bitch, I know. Tough few days. Okay. Gimme a break.

“Uhhh, no, I mean, yeah, umm,” He mumbled something that sounded like Peter Pan.

“You know, Peter Pan… Oh c’mon… honestly you don’t know Peter Pan”

He laughed, “Oh, believe me, I know Peter Pan.”

“So?” I turned to leave.

“Wait, your eyes are purple.”

“Yeah, believe me, I know.” I looked at him.

“It’s just they’re really pretty.” Wow. Awkward much. Who tells someone they have pretty eyes the first time they meet them?

“Okay. Um, bye.” I waved half-heartedly. I walked away.

“Wait! Wait! I didn’t mean to scare you or anything…”

I stared at him, he hadn’t scared me, but this was weird. This boy has no social manners or graces at all.

I ran.

I like to run, it’s my thing. People say that their things are writing poems or stories or hitting things when their upset. Well mines running. It feels like freedom. Like I’m free from all my troubles, and their rushing behind me fast. It feels like the wind on my cheeks and cold on my back. It feels like the good kind of sore. Like your legs are so tired you can’t run, but you still do, just for the hell of it. It feels like pushing yourself to your limits, and pushing more. It feels like the hard ground hitting my feet, taking me to somewhere new. It feels like freedom. Like my destiny.

It feels like a load of crap. At least right now it does. ‘Cause this boy managed to keep up.

Not to sound like I’m bragging but I’m the fastest person in my PE class. I can run the mile in 4 minutes flat. So why could Peter Pan boy keep up? He wasn’t even that fit. He just looked like the average teenage boy. Long, lanky, always about to trip on his feet. Yet he ran like a marathon runner. Like he ran marathons everyday. For all I know, he does. But he wasn’t going to beat me. I was going to win this marathon.

…

We ran through the streets of London. It was eerie; nobody was outside. Our footsteps echoed in the streets. It was like the city had stopped breathing just to watch our little marathon. Like a storm was coming and we were the only ones who were going to get caught in it.

I didn’t like it.

Fog seeped in and covered everything, in a matter of minutes. Soon it became so dark that I could hardly see where I was going. I looked behind me to see if he was having the same trouble as I was.

He wasn’t.

He had this weird little light orb above his shoulder. It looked like it was floating in midair. I shook my head. The fog was playing tricks on my brain.

I looked again, this time the orb was moving, and changing colours. It had been a soft yellow, but now it was an angry red. It moved up and down, in time with its own rhythm, not the boys or mine or anyone’s for that matter. It was made a weird noise. At first it sounded like buzzing, but then I began to make out differences in pitch.

The orb was talking.

“Not now, Tink.” The boy talked back to the orb. That was weird. The fog must be making me here thi---

I stopped. What? Did Peter Pan boy just say Tink? No. No. No.

Yes. Yes he had.

“WHOA!!! Did you just call your little light orb, Tink?” He stopped 20 feet away from me.

“Um.”

I heard a tiny, “See!” He scowled at the orb.

He scowled at the orb!

I looked at it. I could just make out the outlines a human like shape.

I am going crazy.

I swear.