Linger

Peter lay beneath the old green blanket in the farthest corner of the room. He glanced out the window, seeing the lightning strike the ground with such force, it shook the house.

“Things are changing, Tink,” He murmured, and fingered the chain around his neck. The small, metallic pendant Tinkerbell had given him before she left was a stark reminder of what was in store for him. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

He tried to keep his thoughts elsewhere, but the dreadful thoughts seemed to seep in every time he let himself drift off to his dream world.

-

When Peter woke in the morning, the sky was as gloomy as it had been the day before. He wondered solemnly if the sunny days were over. He missed waking to the bright light streaming through the windows.

Peter pulled the tattered blankets from his shivering body and walked to the window, pulling the treatments to the side. The light from the sky was bleak, worn out. The strange shade of grey reminded him of one of Wendy’s old dress. Peter closed his eyes and remembered the day Wendy had worn that dress. They had spent the day picking flowers. It was one of the few days Tinkerbell had liked Wendy, that’s how Peter remembered it. But maybe Tink hadn’t really liked her, she had just understood her.

“My Father abused me when I was young,” Peter remembered Wendy say this as she picked a Tiger Lily. He remembered looking at her, seeing her shiver with the memory. “He was a terrible man.”

“Who was the man in your home when I first met you?” Peter had asked. Wendy smiled then, and Peter did too. Wendy’s happiness seemed to float through the air, catching people as it passed.

“My step father. He’s good to Mother.” There was a hint of adoration in her voice.

Peter was swept back into reality as a loud knock sounded through the house.

“Peter! Peter Pan!” A man screamed through the wooden door. Peter suddenly wished he had let Tink put spells on his home before she left.

“We know you’re there Peter! Come out or we will come in!” Peter heard a tone he did not recognize in the second man’s voice. What was it?

“I won’t come out.” Peter said just loud enough for the men to hear, but not loud enough to shake the glass in the cupboard.

He heard someone laugh and then a boisterous bang against the door. Peter instinctively ducked, but nothing came through the door.

Peter quickly got to his hands and knees and began tapping the floor with his palms, listening for a hollow sound. Once he found it, he dug his fingers under the 3x3 piece of floor board and lifted it up.

“You cannot defy His Majesty! You are wanted for high treason Peter Pan! Come out now, and we spare your life!”

Peter rushed over to his flimsy bedside table and took the picture of Wendy from its frame. He looked at it for a moment, and kissed it; crushing it against his lips. That’s what Wendy said people do if they love someone; they kiss. If only she was still with him.

That kiss lingered in the air as Peter dropped the slightly crumpled photo to the ground.

Peter held on to the floor as he gingerly walked down the wooden ladder that led down into the unknown. He pulled the wooden, square floor board over him as he went down the last step and ran through the tunnel, leaving his life behind.

It was all he could do.