It was eight o'clock p.m., and Anna Silverman was climbing into bed in her small house in London, England. Her fluffy brown hair had been thoroughly combed her teeth had been brushed, and she'd put on her nice new nightgown. She pulled up the blankets and nestled her little head into her pillow as her mother turned off the light and shut the door.

As she lay in the darkness, her pleasant thoughts about the day's happenings were interrupted by an image of a headline in the paper Father had been reading that morning: MYSTERY GIRL-NAPPER STRIKES AGAIN. Girls around her age had been vanishing from their beds all around London for the past couple of weeks. Anna wondered if the next victim would be someone she knew. The shadows of her room loomed eerily around her, threatening to swallow her up. She buried herself under her covers.

In a few minutes, though, sleepiness overcame her fears. She fell asleep and began to dream of the pet hamster she was hoping to get for her birthday next month.

She had just decided to name it Buttercup when she was suddenly awakened by a small click. She raised her head and looked around sleepily, searching for the source of the sound. She realized it was the sound of her window latch opening. In her dreamy stupor, she wondered, Now, why would the window be open this time of night?

The sight of a person flying through her now-open window startled her out of her daze. She sat up and pulled her legs close as she stared at the figure. It was a boy, maybe eleven or twelve- about her age. He had messy, reddish-brown hair. As he settled on the floor, Anna could make out his clothes, which were green and looked as if they were clean and tidy once, but were now dirty and torn from wear, as if the boy had been wearing them for years. As the boy advanced toward her, a beam of moonlight fell upon his face, revealing freckles and a malicious grin.

She finally found her voice. "Wh-who are you?" she whispered.

The boy cocked his head. "It's me, Peter," he said. "Peter Pan. You remember me, don't you Wendy?"

Anna gulped. "I-I don't know you, and my name's not Wendy. What are you doing in my room?"

The boy named Peter reached the side of the bed. "Fifteen years ago. Don't you remember? We were happy in Neverland. I was so happy." He frowned. "Then you said you had to go back. You had to say goodbye to everyone in London. You said you'd be home soon. So I waited. I waited so long. Fifteen years is a very long time, Wendy." His face brightened. "So now I'm going to take you home! Back to Neverland! It's gonna be exactly the same, except Tink won't be there anymore, I squished her, she said I'd never find you, but she didn't really matter anyway, and we're gonna have so much fun, Wendy-"

"Stop!" Anna cried shrilly. "My name is not Wendy, and I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Peter grinned. "I waited a very long time. Of course you're going with me."

He lashed out, grabbing Anna around the waist with one hand and, when she tried to scream, used the other to cover her mouth. She felt her body leave the bed, leave the ground, her feet dangling, kicking, fighting. She and Peter swooped out the window and flew towards the night sky.

"It's right over there, Wendy! Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning!" He let out a whoop and flew faster. Anna struggled against the boy's grasp, but she realized that if he dropped her now, she's fall a long way back down to Earth and die for sure. She grabbed his arm squeezed her eyes shut, and held on for dear life.

After a considerable amount of time, Peter exclaimed, "There it is, Wendy! Neverland!" Anna tentatively opened her eyes and saw, to her amazement, a vast island in the middle of the glittering blue sea they were currently soaring over. They flew over a jungle and into a clearing next to a large, dark ravine. They settled onto the grass. Anna collapsed, tears coursing down her cheeks. Peter did a few cartwheels.

"So, Wendy," he said excitedly, "what do you wanna do first? We can go swim with the mermaids, or dance with the Indians, or fight some pirates, or-"

"I don't want to do any of that!" Anna shrieked, sobbing into her nightgown. "I don't want to be anywhere near this place! I just want to go home!" She glared at Peter with the most angrily sorrowful stare she could muster while crying profusely. "Take me home, please!"

Peter flew over to her and knelt by her side. "What do you mean, Wendy?" he said. "You are home now. You're finally home." He swept her up and carried her into the air. "Neverland will always be home."

Anna, who was still curled up in Peter's embrace, didn't even try to struggle. She stared right into his eyes, her brown eyes mirroring his blue ones. "My name is not Wendy," she said sternly, although there was still a slight quiver in her voice. "My name is Anna Marie Silverman, I live in London, England, not… wherever we are, and I most certainly am not going to do anything with you until you take me home."

For the first time, the boy's expression was not lighthearted. He frowned quizzically and said, "Wait… so you're not Wendy?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "That's what I've been saying! I don't belong here, so take me home!"

Peter continued to stare. "But you can't be here if you're not Wendy." His eyes narrowed. "Nobody but Wendy is allowed in Neverland. Those other girls pretended to be Wendy, too, but they weren't Wendy. I had to drop them."

Anna frowned. "You… dropped them?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

He grinned. "I dropped them. In there." He pointed to the ravine and flew above it. Anna clung to the boy's thin body as she glimpsed what looked like little broken people on the rocks below. Arms and legs were splayed at strange angles, and each of them was wearing a nightgown.

Suddenly, the pieces came together in her head. "You're the kidnapper," she whispered. "The one taking the girls from London."

He shrugged. "I just want to find Wendy. But you're not Wendy, are you?"

Anna looked down at the ravine and swallowed. "I- I'm not exactly-"

"No?" Peter interrupted. "You're not Wendy?" His expression grew serious. "You're just like them. You pretended to be Wendy, but you're not Wendy."

Anna's eyes grew wide. "No! I wasn't pretending, I just-"

Unexpectedly, Peter dropped her. She grasped at him, his clothing anything, but he curled away from her small hands. She fell and fell, gravity pulling her toward the dark rocky terrain below that had become a grave.

Peter watched her fall down, down, down, until he heard the sickening thud that signaled that another mean pretender-to-be-Wendy was gone and wouldn't try to stop him from finding Wendy. The thought bounced around in his warped brain.

I miss Wendy. I must find Wendy. Find Wendy. Find Wendy.

On the rocks below, her tiny body broken and failing, Anna's last action was to hear her killer's whimsical voice calling into the world:

"Wendy? Where are you, Wendy? I'm going to find you, Wendy!"

o0o0o

A/N: This is my first ever semi-horror-ish story, so no flames, please. Reviews, however, are great! Thanks!