Peter Pan

“Wendy?”1

“Shh, Michael,” Wendy hissed.2

First darkness, then, with the scrape of a match and a soft hiss, a dim glow issued from the center of nursery. A young woman of about seventeen was illuminated by the orangish glow. Her face was heart-shaped, framed by a loose knot of honey curls, with big passionate brown eyes, a milky complexion, and a small, upturned nose.3

The small boy wiggled out of his blankets and dashed across the room, crying, “Wendy, I thought you’d never come back!”4

Wendy caught him in her arms and cradled the boy to her chest. “Michael, you knew I’d come back. You knew it would only be a few days at the most.”5

Michael wimpered softly in reply and she felt the tears soak through her nightgown. “Now, hush,” she said, stroking his fine golden hair. “I’m here now. Was the new nanny mean to you?”6

“Mmhmm,” mumbled Michael, already soothed by the sound of Wendy’s heart against his ear. He pulled away from her. “She is a wicked woman, Wendy!” he declared, eyes wide with severity.7

“Hi, Wendy,” another voice said timidly.8

“Hi, John,” returned Wendy briefly.9

John rubbed his toes against the carpet with his eyes downcast shamefully. He took after his father with his thick dark hair, bad eyesight, and a head for practicality; such practicality that would be his curse for a lifetime.10

Wendy ignored his humiliation and kissed Michael’s forehead, who, being one so young, did not notice the shortness between the two siblings. He burst into a fresh batch of tears and threw himself at his sister, his little arms wrapped tightly around her as far as they could go.11

“Oh, Wendy! I missed you so much, Wendy!”12

“I missed you too, Michael,” she whispered, and allowed him to cry while she rocked him.13

John tried again. “Um, Wendy. I just wanted to apologize for…well, I just wanted to let you know that...I’m sorr – ”14

“It’s all over now, John,” Wendy replied, staring coldly at her younger brother.15

John looked back to the carpet, his cheeks burning.16

Wendy continued to rock Michael. She began to hum a lullaby of her own design and soon was singing a song of her own invention. Both the boys loved Wendy’s songs. It always seemed that she made them up on the spot but the intensity of her voice and the words it spoke seemed meditated for weeks.17

Michael was nearly asleep and John in a trance when she finished.18

“Wendy,” Michael whispered drowsily, “won’t you tell us a story again?”19

Wendy hesitated.20

“Please, Wendy, please!” cried Michael desperately.21

“Father says it’s not allowed,” blurted John, but at Wendy’s piercing stare, he reverted his gaze again to his feet.22

“Of course, I will Michael,” said Wendy icily, but the statement was directed at John.23

She removed her brother from her lap, crossed her legs, and straightened her back as she heard Indians do. Michael imitated her, his face all serious.24

“What shall I tell you about?” she grinned, the candlelight casting ghastly shadows upon her face, making her appear otherworldly. Something in her eyes danced mischievously.25

“Peter Pan!” cried Michael too loudly and Wendy shushed him.26

“Alright, then…” Wendy agreed.27

Wendy was a brilliant storyteller, even John could not deny. She always began her stories with her back straight and tall, but, just as the most exciting parts occurred in the story, she would lean in closer and closer until her listeners’ faces were only inches from her own and they could feel her breath and smell her soap. Listening to her stories, was like plunging into a dark room, never knowing what you’d meet behind that sinister door. But this was always true; there were always beautiful damsels, daring heroes, menacing villains, magical creatures, grand adventures, and the story would always end perfectly with a rapid applause and a pleading for more. Her voice always slowed and grew soft as the hero first lays eyes upon the beautiful princess. It would build with tension as the characters crept down the long dark hall of a haunted castle and would explode into a rapid fire of words as a fierce battle ensued with venomous creature guarding the lair of the treasure. One could not help but to hang on every word, especially when she told the story of Peter Pan.28

You could see it in her eyes that his stories were the ones she loved most. Her entire heart went into telling his stories and was sometimes so powerful that, though he would never admit it, John would find himself crying a little at the end. Her descriptions were flawless, her dialogue so believable that Michael began to truly believe Peter Pan was real. This craze for Peter Pan is why Father lost his temper and why Wendy was sent away to boarding school.29

When Wendy finished her story, John realized that he had been kneeling over the candle’s flame. He could not remember how he got there, only remembered that before he had been standing, facing the empty fireplace, with a look of clear disapproval upon his face, but with his ear towards Wendy and secretly edging closer, barely an inch at a time. Stunned for a moment, John quickly withdrew from the close circle around the lit candle, which was now almost a puddle of hot wax.30

“Do you think he’s gone for good, Wendy?” Michael wondered, his eyes wide with excitement.31

“Ol’ Captain Hook?” Wendy asked, still smiling. “I don’t believe he’ll ever rest until he has his revenge on Peter.”32

“But he’ll never do it,” Michael assured himself frantically. “Captain Hook will never catch Peter. Never! Right, Wendy? Right?”33

His eyes were pleading for the life of the beloved character and Wendy laughed. “No,” she promised. “He never will.”34

Michael grinned and she gathered him in her arms.35

“And you know what?” she continued. “Peter will probably get Hook before Hook knows what got ‘em. You know how I know?”36

“How Wendy?” Michael asked, excitement dominating his voice.37

“Because,” she whispered, “last night I saw him! Peter Pan! I suppose he didn’t see me and I frightened him so much that he startled Nana who bit at him and snatched his shadow right off! The Captain will never see Peter Pan sneak up behind him when Peter’s without his shadow!”38

“Do you think it hurt him?” Michael asked, his voice filled with concern.39

“Not a bit,” she lied and Michael’s face lit back up again as he immediately demanded to see the shadow.40

“I would love to, Michael, and you know I would, but after I took it from Nana, the slippery thing struggled all about and was terribly difficult to put away. I want to keep it safe for Peter until he comes back. You understand, don’t you, dear?”41

“Yes,” sighed Michael, his disappointment clear, but Wendy kissed a giant raspberry on his cheek and he grinned again. “You have to promise to wake me up when he comes back!”42

“Of course,” said Wendy, solemnly. “I promise.”43