Chapter 1 ā Kensington Gardens
London, England ā All Hallows' Eve, 1880
A young boy swiftly gazed over his shoulder as he raced down a dark London avenue. The night was frigid as a hefty police constable chased after him from nearly a block away. The short, tubby man swung his baton in the air and cursed him. The boy ran faster and then moved into an alley. The alleyway was dark and smelled of trash and vermin. The boy continued to go quickly, but suddenly tripped into a stagnant puddle. He hurried back to his feet and ran toward the light at the end of the alley.
Streetlamps illuminated the avenue but cast shadows all around him. Sweat clung to his body even though he shivered from the cold. He hastily crossed a two-lane road, dodging a carriage drawn by noisy, stomping horses and raced toward a lush, flowery archway that led into the beautiful Kensington Gardens.
Following a cobblestone path deep inside the expansive gardens, he twisted around dark shrubbery, towering trees, wrought-iron gates and grand statues. It seemed the adrenaline that had once spurred him to keep going had dwindled into nothing. He collapsed on his sore knees, gasping heavily to catch his breath.
He evaded the constable several minutes ago but he couldn't stop running. The mean, scowling man had caught him red-handed as he attempted to break into a sweets shop. Not only that, he had thrown the brick he planned to use on the storefront window at the constable. That only enraged the man more. Surely the police would be after him in droves soon.
But for the moment, he was safe in the Gardens. This was his most favorite place in the whole world. He struggled to his feet and walked down the path until he found a bench. He scowled at the tiny rips and tears in his crimson colored long johns. He sat alone in the darkness, hungry, tired and cold. He rubbed his aching bare feet in an attempt to soothe them. He was in such haste at the orphanage that he had forgotten his shoes.
Still, even though he was alone, he knew he made the right choice. Just twelve years old, he had survived more than most boys his age. The priest in charge of Saint Norbert's Home for Wayward Boys, an orphan asylum, ignored him. The nuns who were supposed to care despised him. When he first arrived there seven years ago, he lashed out at those who wanted to help him. After a while, the adults no longer cared to help but wanted to control him, which he suspected was their main motivation all along. Instead, he fought them at every turn and tried to protect the other boys at the orphanage from wooden paddles and whips.
But he just couldn't take it anymore. Even though the scars on his back didn't bother him, the ones on his soul did. He hated adults for what they did and he never ever wanted to become one. He just needed something different, better. One nun in particular, the only one he liked, told the boys stories about wild adventures from time to time.
That's what he wanted! Adventure! Freedom!
Once again the feeling of hunger consumed him, but he ignored his growling stomach and explored the elaborate gardens. Even though the nuns had brought him and others here to play on occasion, he had never walked the stone path or played on the grass at night. The beauty he once marveled at now appeared sinister with only the crescent moon in the cloudy sky for light. Lush ornamental flowerbeds and massive trees swayed in the breeze and looked as if they would that swoop down to pluck him from the ground. Crickets chirped all around him and, contrary to the scenery, soothed his nerves.
He moved deeper through the gardens and strayed off the path. A wrought-iron fence soon blocked his way. He scaled the short fence and headed toward a stone birdbath situated on a circular, mosaic platform. Splashing water onto his face, he drank the surprisingly refreshing liquid and then settled beside the birdbath. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he braced his arms around his legs and sighed.
A sudden movement in the darkness caught his attention. The lad rose to his feet as a black shape zipped out of the trees and headed right toward him. He ducked, yelled out and swiped his arms over his head just as the object landed on the rim of the birdbath.
A bird! He laughed softly to himself and dropped his arms to his sides, watching it. Minutes passed as the large raven drank from the bowl and then flapped its wings. The creature's black feathers twitched as droplets soaked into its body.
"Well, aren't ya' a curious young lad?"
The boy leapt back from the bird and twirled around. "Who's there?" He swallowed hard, eyes darting in every direction.
"What ya' mean? I been sittin' here watchin' ya' stare at me for these past few minutes while I bathe." The bird twitched his feathers again as if nervous. "Oh, but what is time? Ya' humans create the silliest inventions just to make ya'selves feel better, older or more accomplished. Ya' should live in the moment, like me."
He jerked back around and stared at the bird. His mouth dropped open. "You can talk? You're a talking bird!" A smile spread over his thin, angelic face.
"Of course, lad, but only children can hear me." The bird hopped around the bowl. "Sala's the name. Sala Raven. And you're Peter Pan!"
His eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
"I know many things, dear boy." His intelligent eyes, black as a starless night, glinted in amusement. "Aren't ya' a silly one? You ran away from the orphanage in your underwear and you got no footwear."
"You know about the orphanage too?" Peter rubbed his hands over his dirty long johns. "Well, I left as fast as I could. That mean old nun had promised me a beating because I broke one of her pots. Honest, it was an accident, but she didn't care. I didn't have time to grab clothes, food or anything. I just had to get away."
"I see." Sala twisted his head and blinked. "Well, it's good to finally meet ya', Peter. I've watched ya' for some time now, when the orphan boys are playing here in the gardens. You're the leader of those mischievous imps, ain't ya'?"
Red flushed his face. "Not really. Those boys were no good anyway. I tried to help those lads a lot and they never seemed to appreciate me." He bit his lip and then raised his head. He had to think of himself, just him, the way he used to before the police grabbed him from streets and sent him to Saint Norbert's. "Nice to meet you, Sala. Iā"
Peter's words unexpectedly got caught in his throat as two tiny orbs of light, one golden yellow and one blue, shot out from underneath the birdbath. The glowing orbs zipped back and forth through the air before pausing just above the wrought-iron gate. The light soon faded and two little women, roughly fifteen centimeters tall, perched themselves on the gate. With vibrant, colorful wings like insects, they reminded him of the fairies from his favorite books. The blonde-haired woman dressed in a pristine green silk tunic with matching green bracelets and little green slippers. Her yellow skin shimmered under the pale light of the moon and her eyes twinkled like emeralds. The second woman appeared slightly older, though still youthful, with her hair as white as freshly laid snow. The silvery color of her tunic and clunky bracelets complimented her deep cobalt blue skin. She wore no shoes.
"Pixies!" Sala proclaimed. "You're awake."
The golden one chimed in a strange language and her wings fluttered rapidly.
"What's it saying?"
"Oh, Peter. It's Pixie language. They speak in chimes and bells. That is Tinker Bell but we call her Tink for short. The blue one is Winter."
He wanted to jump up and down in excitement. Instead, Peter waved. "Hello, little bugs."
"Now, Peter, don't call them bugs," Sala scolded. "It's disrespectful. They are fairies to be exact."
A wide grin curled his lips. "I've heard of fairies! They're beautiful!"
Winter, the blue fairy, flew up to Peter's face and showered him in her blue pixie dust.
"She likes ya'," the raven explained as the boy laughed.
"What is he doing here?" Tinker Bell's green gaze drifted from Sala to the boy in complete curiosity.
Coated in pixie dust, Peter now understood their harmonic, lilting language.
"He's lost. He's one of the orphans who often plays in the gardens," the bird explained.
"Can we keep him?" Winter hovered over his head and played with his straight auburn locks.
Peter laughed again and watched as she flew around him, delight dazzling in his blue eyes and on her delicate face.
"Well, now that depends, Winter," Sala proposed and then glanced at Tinker Bell. "What do you think?"
Tink clapped her hands together. "He should live with me in Neverland!"
"That's not fair." Winter braced her hands on her hips. "He should live with me and Sala at the birdbath. Tink, you know we can never return to Neverland. That evil witch, Zellina, banished me and Sala for attacking her after she killed Sarifif."
"Witches exist too?" Peter couldn't believe his ears. "Who was Sarifif?"
"The fairy king! Oh, now he was a fiery soul." Sala told to Peter. "King Sarifif once ruled at the top of the majestic Neverpeak Mountains. He and other royal fairies used to visit Kensington Gardens."
"After he died, the fairy kingdom fell into ruin." Tink said as she flew to the birdbath and stared longingly into the water. She then smacked her hand across the surface in annoyance at the thought. "The remaining fairies banded together to destroyed Zellina!" Tink's green eyes glowed with a twinge of yellow in sadness. "They all died. I'm the only one left in Neverland, so life is different now. I live peacefully in the Pixie Hollow deep within the Neverforest even if the threat of war always looms."
Sala lamented. "Even in death, Zellina's evil spells are still strong. What a shame. If only the powerful sorceress used her magic for good."
So many questions filled Peter's mind. "What is Neverland?"
"Oh, it's a place full of magic, wonderment and adventure." Sala's voice perked up. "A beautiful yet dangerous place where ya' never grow up on account of time freezing and all. Oh you still have night and day and morning and afternoon, but you just don't age. And there are those nasty pirates that want to rule all of Neverland, the mermaids, who are beautiful but devious creatures, the honorable Indians and the mischievous Lost Boys."
"Pirates? Indians? Lost Boys?"
Winter nodded and sat beside Tink on the concrete ledge of the bath. "The Pirates are the scourges of the land. The Lost Boys are orphans like you, Peter, but maybe a little younger. They went to Neverland years ago to escape the human realm. There is so much pain and suffering here. Even worse, it can be so boring." She now smacked her hand in the water as Tink had done. "The boys never wanted to grow up, and they haven't."
"Well, it sounds extraordinary. We shall go at once." Peter declared, as he looked around him. "Now, how far is it?"
Tinker Bell's eyes lit up. "You must fly there, Peter! There is no other way."
He frowned and then hung his head. "I'm only a boy. I can't fly!"
"Sure you can. It's easy!" Winter offered.
He jerked his gaze back up to Tink.
"We can teach you!" Tinker Bell clapped her hands together again but then frowned at Winter as her friend started to cry. "Come now, don't be sad. I always visit you and he can visit you too."
Winter wiped moisture from her blue eyes. "I want him to stay here but as long he promises to visit. I guess it's okay."
"I do. I will." Peter stepped closer toward the fairies and leaned down to meet Winter's gaze. "I promise."
With that, Winter perked up and started flying, zooming all around Peter. "All it takes is faith and trust. Just think of a lovely, wonderful thought. Any happy thought will do."
"Leaving the orphanage!" Peter proclaimed as he thought hard about how he snuck out of a two-story window and climbed down on a thick, twisting rope of ivy that crawled up the building. The fact that he was cold and hungry no longer mattered. Running away saved his life. Now, it was time to start living.
"I don't understand?" Winter pouted and crossed her arms. "Why isn't it working?"
"He needs more Pixie dust!" Sala suggested.
Peter grinned as Sala flapped his wings and splashed water toward the fairies. They shot from the birdbath before the water touched them and fluttered all around him, saturating his hair and clothes in blue and gold pixie dust. Peter giggled and, before realization struck, he floated off the ground.
"Fly, Peter. Fly!" Sala demanded.
With that, Peter flapped his arms like a bird and floated higher and higher into the night sky. After a few moments, he glided back down to the birdbath.
"He's ready for Neverland," the raven uttered with enthusiasm.
Tinker Bell hugged her friend Winter goodbye and then faced Peter. "Are you ready to go?"
He nodded, his curly hair bouncing all over his head. "I'm a bit anxious but I'm ready."
"Okay," Tink demanded Peter's attention. "Look up in the sky. Do you see the second star to the right?"
Peter nodded.
"Okay, we will follow that star straight on until morning comes. It's a long trip."
"I shall miss you." Winter landed on his shoulder and pecked his cheek with her blue lips. "Don't forget about us."
"I could never forget." He smiled as she returned to the birdbath to stand beside Sala. "Thank you both for everything you showed me tonight."
"You're quite welcome, lad."
"Goodbye, Peter!" Winter waved her hand wildly in the air.
Tink flew just ahead of Peter, leading the way. He flapped his arms and followed her. Twisting his head to stare back at his two new friends, he called out and waved. Loosing momentum, he continued flapping. "Goodbye, Sala! Goodbye Winter! I will see you again!"
With that, the young boy followed the golden yellow pixie and ascended higher and higher into the night sky. Looking back on London one last time, he took a deep breath and smiled as he saw the Big Ben clock tower in the distance. For the first time in his life, he was finally free.
