Prologue

Here I am in my room; months have passed since my adventures in Neverland. I've been waiting for him every night and I wish that he will come here with me and take me away, forever in Neverland. I finally realized why he never wanted to grow up, he shared to me the joys of being a child; the moments when you can feel freedom and let your feelings soar, that feeling in which you cannot bring yourself to fear and hide yourself from the world. I do not want to let go. But it's going to be selfish of me to leave my parents behind. Even though I was continuously stressed by them into becoming a poised lady and I cannot stand their usual talks about how fancy my life could be once I turn into someone I do not wish to be, I cannot let them go as well. I almost forgot them, and I would never want them to forget me either. I gazed at the stars again; hoping a kid at the same age as mine will fly and smile at me again.

The door opened and I saw my mother walking towards me. She sat one bed and put her warm hands around mine. As the light illuminated her face, I took my time observing her features. She is beautiful. Her dark hair was neatly tied with a red ribbon, a light pink shade was evident on her pale cheeks and red lips has the same shade of red as that of cherries. I was beginning to wonder; will I look like her someday? Perhaps, maybe, I do not know.

"It's late, my dear Wendy. You must go and have some rest, you have school tomorrow." She smiled and stroked my curly brown hair. I gave her a light smile as I looked down on our intertwined hands.

"I can't sleep" I lied, "Can you tell me a story? Maybe it could help me get some rest"

My mother chuckled and cupped my cheeks. Her soft blue eyes stared against mine. If there was something similar with me and mom, it was undeniably our eyes. I can feel that I might melt under her stare, but I didn't. I just found myself lost in her eyes.

"Aren't you too old for those stories, my dear?"

I shrugged and stared at the nearby lampshade. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of course, I am being trained to become a lady. Why on earth did I ask her for a story telling session? Still, a part of me kept urging me to ask her once more; even if it would be the last story I can hear.

"I'm still 14; I can still use some of those stories, one last time?" I said sheepishly, trying not to have another eye contact with her. My eyes lingered around my room; pink walls with intricate designs, an oak wardrobe standing on the other side of the room, and silk curtains that almost covered the window.

My parents already gave me my own room to stay, no longer with my brothers. They said that I shall grow up and become a woman someday. It's necessary for me to stop telling stories and playing with my younger siblings. Children's stories must no longer be read to me, even though I'm really fond of them. That's why I'm having a hard time sleeping lately, and I'm begging mother to read me one for the last time.

She sighed in defeat and walked to the bookshelf just beside my desk. I peered over to see what is book she is looking for.

"This is going to be the last time I'll read a story for you Wendy, and no more." She said, a hint of amusement can be heard from her tone. I let a smile spread through my face, feeling victorious. The wind howled into the room, I stood up from my bed and closed the windows then ran back to my bed,

"What do you want me to read?" my mother asked, looking at me.

I remembered those times I told stories to the boys in Neverland, but now they are with us, staying with my brothers in the other room. What I find weird is, they forgot what Neverland is, they just continue to tell me it's a place in a story book, so is he. It's as if he was just a dream, but why does it seem like I remember it all too well? But my story to them cannot be forgotten; Cinderella and the Pirates. They are curious on what happened to Cinderella and the pirates. Though I never remember if there are any pirates in that story or Cinderella fighting pirates, but since they wanted to add the pirates in the story I might as well put a twist into it. It was lovely even he loved it.

"Mother, will you please read to me the story Cinderella and the pirates?" I suggested absent-mindedly.

Mother stared at me confusingly and stifled a laugh before returning to search through the books

"Pirates? I don't think there are pirates on that story, dear."

I felt embarrassed and blushed once more.

"I-I mean Cinderella and the glass slipper, of course. How foolish of me!" I stuttered, she smiled at me and continued scanning the books.

Mother sat beside my bed and started reading the book. I listened to every word of the story and imagined the scenes. I was so entranced by its beauty. How can adults deny this joy to their children? Then I realized that my mother was finished reading the book, I felt quite disappointed, that was the last time I shall be read a story. I'll miss it; it was a part of me that I was always known for.

"Wendy, may I ask you something?"

I nodded

"Anything, Mama"

"I notice that every night you stare at your window and looks like as if you're waiting for something. And when you go to bed you leave it open. Why do you do so?"

I stared at mother. So she noticed; was I that obvious?

"It's nothing, I just want to gaze at the stars lately, and the wind is cold at night, it makes me comfortable when I sleep." I lied again. I started to feel bad lying to her once again. My mother looked not content of my answer but she dropped the topic.

"I see, I close your window at night, I was just wondering if you really intend to do so." I stopped; maybe that's why he cannot come in! I wanted to demand but I stopped when mom gestured to bring me closer to her. It can't be. All the while, I was leaving the windows open for him, yet my mother closes it.

"Goodnight, darling. You have a big day tomorrow" she smiled as she pulled me closer to her.

Mother kissed me on the forehead and closed the lights, leaving the door closed. I somewhat felt guilty of not telling her everything. I felt angry as well, she was the one who closes it after all!

For awhile, I felt drowsy and was ready to sleep, when my eyes were about to close, I saw a figure of a boy, a flying boy peek through my closed window. I closed the window; it was not my mother who closed it this time; it was me. But then, I cannot find it myself to open it. I slowly closed my eyes, and I fell asleep.