Here is another story I'm planning to publish! After seeing "Hook" twenty
times, I finally got the idea to create a story with Peter Pan and the lost
boys in it. It's taking me forever to write it.
Enjoy!
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Mrs. Lavinia Lynch, headmistress of the Saint Catchburry Orphanage, thought her life was perfect. In her eyes, her family, her orphanage, and her life were perfect. Her orphanage housed children and teens between the ages of three to eighteen, although not many lived there, only ten girls and ten boys, excluding Lavinia's daughter Charlotte. The previous owner, the late Mr. Lynch, had run the orphanage before he was married, as his father and grandfather had before him.
Although she ran the orphanage, Lavinia hardly paid any attention to the actual orphans. She didn't really care about them, as she was only carrying out her dead husband's wishes. She dotted upon Charlotte, spoiling the young girl. She looked more like her father that anyone else in her family, with her curly golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. But she had a rosy complexion, like her mother and a temper all her own. All the orphans envied her, because while they shared cramped rooms, she acquired a lavishly decorated room all her own. She got everything her heart asked for, but hardly cared for any of it.
Not only did Lavinia run the orphanage, she also home schooled those who lived with her. She schooled them in Math, History, Science, Religion, Art, English, and Music, gaining the exact same education as those in a regular school, if not better. For exercise, they journeyed to the local playground, where the elder children would play sports and the younger children would play on the large play sets. Every week, an older child was selected to watch the younger children play, to make sure they were safe and came home before supper. And every Sunday, Lavinia would take the children to the Church to pray for a new home to live in. Lavinia loved her life, and hopeful that nothing bad would ever happen to it.
Until a letter came saying that her only sister, Angela, had died in an accident and her daughter would be staying with her. Permanently.
With the addition of this new resident, Lavinia had to make some changes to her house. All of the spare rooms were filled, and she didn't want Charlotte to share a room with her niece, who was probably as insane as Angela. She had never seen the child, and wasn't even sure of her name, but assumed it was some crazy name Angela had pulled out of her imagination. Lavinia despised imagination. It caused good girls to go bad.
And so, the only room left unoccupied was the attic, which was infested with spiders and a family of raccoons. She hired an exterminator to get rid of the infestations, and had the orphans dust the room to make it nice. She brought Charlotte's old bed in from the garage, and bought a small dresser from the local furniture shop. She didn't bother getting it from the department store in the city. Those were too expensive, and it was only her niece. It wasn't as if she had a second daughter.
On the last day of April, the car carrying her niece pulled into the dirt driveway, and disposed of the small child on the doorstep. And when Lavinia took one look at her unfortunate niece, she knew that this child was just like Angela. And she cursed God for giving her a sister.
Gavlyn Grey didn't want to be there. She didn't want to be anywhere, except for her home, with her father and mother. But, as she was reminded hundreds of times, Mommy and Daddy weren't coming home. She wasn't stupid, she was smarter that most five year olds, and she knew her parents were dead, but the Child Welfare Agency treated her like they did any other child. Like a naive five year old.
After the funeral, Gavlyn had been told to gather her things and wait to be taken to her Aunt's house. A family friend helped pack, but as soon as she left the house, Gavlyn locked herself in. All the windows and doors had been locked, including the dog door and attic window. For days she stayed inside, curled up on her parent's bed, trying to remember their smell, their looks, anything about them. She knew that the Welfare would get inside eventually, so she did what she was told to do. She packed up her belongings. She began to run around the house, gathering things her parents had once owned or had given her. Books, photographs, dolls, even the old knife her father had once promised to her. She didn't know if she needed it where she was going, but she took it anyway. The last thing to go into the box with her things was her mother's wedding dress and veil, and her father's pendant bearing the family crest and fedora, all of which were very important to her. The only thing she didn't take was her clothes. Clothes can be replaced. Memories couldn't.
When she knew her time was short, she remembered the few things her mother valued most: the portrait of her great-grandmother, the painting of a far away place, and he watercolor set her mother had used when she was young. All these went in a separate box. But there were things that couldn't be saved in a box. The feel of her house, the love that was shared here, all those memories. With one last tour of her house, Gavlyn stepped outside with her hands in the air. She surrendered. But before she went away to her Aunt's house, she made the Welfare promise her that everything in the house would be put into storage until she was eighteen. Nothing was to be forgotten.
Although Gavlyn was a very young child, the determination in her eyes made the Child Welfare representatives listen to her. That same day, Gavlyn was put in a car along with her belongings and sent to her new home. The next day, the house was put on sale, and the things in the house put in storage until the day Gavlyn was of age.
When she got out of the large black car, she immediately felt the hatred that radiated off the woman standing on the front porch. The five year old met her aunt's eyes with the same loathing that Lavinia shivered. Her dull sapphire eyes never left Lavinia's until her belongings were brought out of the trunk.
"What are those?" Lavinia asked, stepping out onto the porch. She felt Gavlyn's cold stare follow her to the car.
Gavlyn answered her before the representatives could. "Those are mine," she said in a cold, harsh voice. "You are not to touch them." Her lips twitched slightly as she saw Lavinia's startled face.
"We won't do anything with them, child," she said sweetly, her words dripping with disdain. "We are just going to take them up to your room." She pointed to the attic window. You have that whole room all to yourself. Isn't it wonderful?"
Gavlyn frowned at it, but the slightly smiled at the large oak tree standing firmly outside the window. "It will do. At least it has a window with a view and gives me some privacy." She saw a few of the orphans her age run around back. "Away from distractions."
Lavinia knew she would be trouble. There was no doubt about it. She was just like Angela: her looks, her attitude, and her uncanny way of making adults nervous. Angela would always do that. She would look at adults in this way that scared everyone. It was like she was staring into their soul. And Gavlyn was doing that now. She and her mother had these eyes that held intelligence, and wisdom, that mystified anyone who looked into them. Lavinia shivered. Don't let her get to you, she reminded herself. It's the exact thing Angela did to get her way.
"Don't touch that!" Gavlyn suddenly yelled out, running to the car. The male representative held in his hands a dirty rag doll, worn from years of love. She kicked the man in the shin, making him drop the toy. She snatched it in mid-air and ran to the tall oak tree, using its bulk for protection. She grasped the doll tightly in her arms and breathed in the scent of her mother, who had slept with it until the day she died. She remembered her father constantly joking with her mother, saying that dolls were for children. Her mother would cling to it, saying that it was special and she would never give it up. It was Gavlyn's now.
"What is it?" Lavinia asked the young man, who was rubbing his shin.
"Her mother's doll," he replied, standing up. "We tried to make her give it up, but she wouldn't do it."
Lavinia frowned. She knew what doll it was. It had belonged to her mother, Jane, when she was Gavlyn's age. It had belonged to Angela afterward. She had no idea it would have survived all those years. She sighed. "I'll show you to her room. She can unpack them herself."
Boxes in hand, the representatives followed Lavinia up the porch steps and into the orphanage, leaving Gavlyn alone behind the oak tree. She didn't want to go in through the stairs. No, that would mean making contact with people she didn't want to know. And she doubted that there were any back stairs. Frowning, she looked up into the oak tree. Its peak reached higher that the house itself and its branches were thick and plentiful. One of the lower branches had broken, making it low enough for Gavlyn to reach. Biting down on the arm of the toy, she grabbed the branch in her small hands and braced her bare feet on the rough trunk. The bark hurt her feet, but after years of running around barefoot, calluses had grown.
She thought that the branch would snap, and she would go tumbling to the ground, but her lightweight made it easier to climb. Slowly, she maneuvered her way up the tall tree, her doll clenched in her teeth. Her hands and feet became raw from grasping the tough branches, and bits of bark fell into her copper colored hair. She finally made it to the window; she was only an arm's length away. Two branches, parallel to each other, made a nice path into the room, with one just above them to help her keep her balance. She wondered if she was light enough. If she wasn't, she would plummet three stories to the ground, with no one there to catch her.
Mustering all her courage, she grasped the top branch in her raw hands and lightly stepped onto the lower branches. It didn't break, not even snap. Relieved, she walked across and into the room, where Lavinia and the representatives were putting down her things. She jumped into the room, landing on a padded bench next to the window. She took the toy out of her mouth,
"This was once a room, wasn't it?" she asked. "Then it was turned into an attic. Now, it's a room again."
"Rooms go through many changes, child," Lavinia said.
"I know that," Gavlyn spat. "Everything changes. We just need to accept them."
Lavinia smiled to hide her disdain. "Of course," she said through clenched teeth. "Any adult knows that."
Gavlyn didn't respond. Instead, she sat down on the bed and stared at the floor, hugging the doll. The three adults stared at her for a while, until they realized that she wanted to be alone. The representatives left first, telling Lavinia to call them if there were problems. Then only Lavinia and Gavlyn were left.
"Breakfast is at eight, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at seven o'clock. If you are late, you will get nothing. We go to the park every Wednesday for exercise, and if you are good, you can ask an older child to go into town with you. While you are here, will follow my rules. Is that clear?"
Gavlyn nodded.
Satisfied, Lavinia began to exit the room. "Oh yes, I forgot one thing. I do not allow books in my house, except for the required reading for school. Any books you brought with you must be brought to me. Understand?"
Gavlyn didn't say anything. She continued to stare at the floor.
"Do you understand?" Lavinia asked again, her voice impatient.
Gavlyn still didn't answer.
In one quick movement, Lavinia was at her side. Gavlyn looked up at her with her dull blue eyes, and for once they were full of sadness. But it didn't stop Lavinia from slapping her across the mouth. "You will speak when spoken to!" she spat, eyes blazing. "Do you understand?"
Gavlyn wiped the small trickle of blood her aunt's sharp nails had drawn. "Yes," she hissed, "Aunt Lavinia."
Satisfied, Lavinia exited the room, leaving Gavlyn with a slightly split lip and a bruised cheek. She stuck her tongue out at the closed door. No one can stop me from doing what I want, she thought. If she doesn't want to see any books in this house, fine. She began to search the floor for a loose board. She found many, and began to pull them up. "She won't see any books." She smiled to herself, a small spark of rebellion in her eyes. I will never follow her rules. "Never."
Gavlyn spent that night unpacking her belongings. The books went under the floorboards. She hated to put her mothers signed books and her fathers classics in the woodworking, but she had to. If she didn't, they would most likely end up as kindling for winter fires. She hugged her favorite book, the Catcher in the Rye, before placing it on top of her children's books.
She looked mournfully at the paintings of her great-grandmother and that faraway land. They would have to be put in the corner, until she could hang them up properly. The ancient dagger could not be put on display, like many of her things, and had to be stored until she was older, and Lavinia couldn't do anything about it. But before it was stored into the top drawer of her dresser, she carved eighteen lines under her bed, one for every year. Until the day she was eighteen.
Last but not least were the gown, the veil, the fedora, and the medallion. "Lavinia can't find these," she muttered. "But I can't hide them under the floor." She sighed. "Then they must go into the drawers."
She carefully stored the immaculate white gown, with its delicate satin bodice and skirt and pearl studded neckline, into the bottom drawer, and placed the delicate lace veil on top of that. The fedora and medallion was placed in the drawer above. The delicate rag dolls that belonged to every woman in her family were gently placed on the top of the dresser, behind the photograph of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and the photograph of her great-grandmother when she was young.
She wiped the dust off the glass. "You were so beautiful great- grandmother." She put the photograph down. "Not me though. I look like a boy."
Exhausted from the week's events, she curled up into her new bed. It wasn't as comfortable as her real bed, which was currently locked in storage, but it was decent enough. At least it wasn't a futon. Clutching her doll in her arms, she tucked her knees to her chin, and cried herself to sleep.
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Wow. This is so much different from my first version. I had to look at the original for references, and I must say that my writing sucked. But this is so much better! Yeah, Gavlyn is a little mature for five, but then again, it did say she wasn't like most five year olds. Besides, I'm sure there are a few super geniuses out there! Right?
Mrs. Lavinia Lynch, headmistress of the Saint Catchburry Orphanage, thought her life was perfect. In her eyes, her family, her orphanage, and her life were perfect. Her orphanage housed children and teens between the ages of three to eighteen, although not many lived there, only ten girls and ten boys, excluding Lavinia's daughter Charlotte. The previous owner, the late Mr. Lynch, had run the orphanage before he was married, as his father and grandfather had before him.
Although she ran the orphanage, Lavinia hardly paid any attention to the actual orphans. She didn't really care about them, as she was only carrying out her dead husband's wishes. She dotted upon Charlotte, spoiling the young girl. She looked more like her father that anyone else in her family, with her curly golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. But she had a rosy complexion, like her mother and a temper all her own. All the orphans envied her, because while they shared cramped rooms, she acquired a lavishly decorated room all her own. She got everything her heart asked for, but hardly cared for any of it.
Not only did Lavinia run the orphanage, she also home schooled those who lived with her. She schooled them in Math, History, Science, Religion, Art, English, and Music, gaining the exact same education as those in a regular school, if not better. For exercise, they journeyed to the local playground, where the elder children would play sports and the younger children would play on the large play sets. Every week, an older child was selected to watch the younger children play, to make sure they were safe and came home before supper. And every Sunday, Lavinia would take the children to the Church to pray for a new home to live in. Lavinia loved her life, and hopeful that nothing bad would ever happen to it.
Until a letter came saying that her only sister, Angela, had died in an accident and her daughter would be staying with her. Permanently.
With the addition of this new resident, Lavinia had to make some changes to her house. All of the spare rooms were filled, and she didn't want Charlotte to share a room with her niece, who was probably as insane as Angela. She had never seen the child, and wasn't even sure of her name, but assumed it was some crazy name Angela had pulled out of her imagination. Lavinia despised imagination. It caused good girls to go bad.
And so, the only room left unoccupied was the attic, which was infested with spiders and a family of raccoons. She hired an exterminator to get rid of the infestations, and had the orphans dust the room to make it nice. She brought Charlotte's old bed in from the garage, and bought a small dresser from the local furniture shop. She didn't bother getting it from the department store in the city. Those were too expensive, and it was only her niece. It wasn't as if she had a second daughter.
On the last day of April, the car carrying her niece pulled into the dirt driveway, and disposed of the small child on the doorstep. And when Lavinia took one look at her unfortunate niece, she knew that this child was just like Angela. And she cursed God for giving her a sister.
Gavlyn Grey didn't want to be there. She didn't want to be anywhere, except for her home, with her father and mother. But, as she was reminded hundreds of times, Mommy and Daddy weren't coming home. She wasn't stupid, she was smarter that most five year olds, and she knew her parents were dead, but the Child Welfare Agency treated her like they did any other child. Like a naive five year old.
After the funeral, Gavlyn had been told to gather her things and wait to be taken to her Aunt's house. A family friend helped pack, but as soon as she left the house, Gavlyn locked herself in. All the windows and doors had been locked, including the dog door and attic window. For days she stayed inside, curled up on her parent's bed, trying to remember their smell, their looks, anything about them. She knew that the Welfare would get inside eventually, so she did what she was told to do. She packed up her belongings. She began to run around the house, gathering things her parents had once owned or had given her. Books, photographs, dolls, even the old knife her father had once promised to her. She didn't know if she needed it where she was going, but she took it anyway. The last thing to go into the box with her things was her mother's wedding dress and veil, and her father's pendant bearing the family crest and fedora, all of which were very important to her. The only thing she didn't take was her clothes. Clothes can be replaced. Memories couldn't.
When she knew her time was short, she remembered the few things her mother valued most: the portrait of her great-grandmother, the painting of a far away place, and he watercolor set her mother had used when she was young. All these went in a separate box. But there were things that couldn't be saved in a box. The feel of her house, the love that was shared here, all those memories. With one last tour of her house, Gavlyn stepped outside with her hands in the air. She surrendered. But before she went away to her Aunt's house, she made the Welfare promise her that everything in the house would be put into storage until she was eighteen. Nothing was to be forgotten.
Although Gavlyn was a very young child, the determination in her eyes made the Child Welfare representatives listen to her. That same day, Gavlyn was put in a car along with her belongings and sent to her new home. The next day, the house was put on sale, and the things in the house put in storage until the day Gavlyn was of age.
When she got out of the large black car, she immediately felt the hatred that radiated off the woman standing on the front porch. The five year old met her aunt's eyes with the same loathing that Lavinia shivered. Her dull sapphire eyes never left Lavinia's until her belongings were brought out of the trunk.
"What are those?" Lavinia asked, stepping out onto the porch. She felt Gavlyn's cold stare follow her to the car.
Gavlyn answered her before the representatives could. "Those are mine," she said in a cold, harsh voice. "You are not to touch them." Her lips twitched slightly as she saw Lavinia's startled face.
"We won't do anything with them, child," she said sweetly, her words dripping with disdain. "We are just going to take them up to your room." She pointed to the attic window. You have that whole room all to yourself. Isn't it wonderful?"
Gavlyn frowned at it, but the slightly smiled at the large oak tree standing firmly outside the window. "It will do. At least it has a window with a view and gives me some privacy." She saw a few of the orphans her age run around back. "Away from distractions."
Lavinia knew she would be trouble. There was no doubt about it. She was just like Angela: her looks, her attitude, and her uncanny way of making adults nervous. Angela would always do that. She would look at adults in this way that scared everyone. It was like she was staring into their soul. And Gavlyn was doing that now. She and her mother had these eyes that held intelligence, and wisdom, that mystified anyone who looked into them. Lavinia shivered. Don't let her get to you, she reminded herself. It's the exact thing Angela did to get her way.
"Don't touch that!" Gavlyn suddenly yelled out, running to the car. The male representative held in his hands a dirty rag doll, worn from years of love. She kicked the man in the shin, making him drop the toy. She snatched it in mid-air and ran to the tall oak tree, using its bulk for protection. She grasped the doll tightly in her arms and breathed in the scent of her mother, who had slept with it until the day she died. She remembered her father constantly joking with her mother, saying that dolls were for children. Her mother would cling to it, saying that it was special and she would never give it up. It was Gavlyn's now.
"What is it?" Lavinia asked the young man, who was rubbing his shin.
"Her mother's doll," he replied, standing up. "We tried to make her give it up, but she wouldn't do it."
Lavinia frowned. She knew what doll it was. It had belonged to her mother, Jane, when she was Gavlyn's age. It had belonged to Angela afterward. She had no idea it would have survived all those years. She sighed. "I'll show you to her room. She can unpack them herself."
Boxes in hand, the representatives followed Lavinia up the porch steps and into the orphanage, leaving Gavlyn alone behind the oak tree. She didn't want to go in through the stairs. No, that would mean making contact with people she didn't want to know. And she doubted that there were any back stairs. Frowning, she looked up into the oak tree. Its peak reached higher that the house itself and its branches were thick and plentiful. One of the lower branches had broken, making it low enough for Gavlyn to reach. Biting down on the arm of the toy, she grabbed the branch in her small hands and braced her bare feet on the rough trunk. The bark hurt her feet, but after years of running around barefoot, calluses had grown.
She thought that the branch would snap, and she would go tumbling to the ground, but her lightweight made it easier to climb. Slowly, she maneuvered her way up the tall tree, her doll clenched in her teeth. Her hands and feet became raw from grasping the tough branches, and bits of bark fell into her copper colored hair. She finally made it to the window; she was only an arm's length away. Two branches, parallel to each other, made a nice path into the room, with one just above them to help her keep her balance. She wondered if she was light enough. If she wasn't, she would plummet three stories to the ground, with no one there to catch her.
Mustering all her courage, she grasped the top branch in her raw hands and lightly stepped onto the lower branches. It didn't break, not even snap. Relieved, she walked across and into the room, where Lavinia and the representatives were putting down her things. She jumped into the room, landing on a padded bench next to the window. She took the toy out of her mouth,
"This was once a room, wasn't it?" she asked. "Then it was turned into an attic. Now, it's a room again."
"Rooms go through many changes, child," Lavinia said.
"I know that," Gavlyn spat. "Everything changes. We just need to accept them."
Lavinia smiled to hide her disdain. "Of course," she said through clenched teeth. "Any adult knows that."
Gavlyn didn't respond. Instead, she sat down on the bed and stared at the floor, hugging the doll. The three adults stared at her for a while, until they realized that she wanted to be alone. The representatives left first, telling Lavinia to call them if there were problems. Then only Lavinia and Gavlyn were left.
"Breakfast is at eight, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at seven o'clock. If you are late, you will get nothing. We go to the park every Wednesday for exercise, and if you are good, you can ask an older child to go into town with you. While you are here, will follow my rules. Is that clear?"
Gavlyn nodded.
Satisfied, Lavinia began to exit the room. "Oh yes, I forgot one thing. I do not allow books in my house, except for the required reading for school. Any books you brought with you must be brought to me. Understand?"
Gavlyn didn't say anything. She continued to stare at the floor.
"Do you understand?" Lavinia asked again, her voice impatient.
Gavlyn still didn't answer.
In one quick movement, Lavinia was at her side. Gavlyn looked up at her with her dull blue eyes, and for once they were full of sadness. But it didn't stop Lavinia from slapping her across the mouth. "You will speak when spoken to!" she spat, eyes blazing. "Do you understand?"
Gavlyn wiped the small trickle of blood her aunt's sharp nails had drawn. "Yes," she hissed, "Aunt Lavinia."
Satisfied, Lavinia exited the room, leaving Gavlyn with a slightly split lip and a bruised cheek. She stuck her tongue out at the closed door. No one can stop me from doing what I want, she thought. If she doesn't want to see any books in this house, fine. She began to search the floor for a loose board. She found many, and began to pull them up. "She won't see any books." She smiled to herself, a small spark of rebellion in her eyes. I will never follow her rules. "Never."
Gavlyn spent that night unpacking her belongings. The books went under the floorboards. She hated to put her mothers signed books and her fathers classics in the woodworking, but she had to. If she didn't, they would most likely end up as kindling for winter fires. She hugged her favorite book, the Catcher in the Rye, before placing it on top of her children's books.
She looked mournfully at the paintings of her great-grandmother and that faraway land. They would have to be put in the corner, until she could hang them up properly. The ancient dagger could not be put on display, like many of her things, and had to be stored until she was older, and Lavinia couldn't do anything about it. But before it was stored into the top drawer of her dresser, she carved eighteen lines under her bed, one for every year. Until the day she was eighteen.
Last but not least were the gown, the veil, the fedora, and the medallion. "Lavinia can't find these," she muttered. "But I can't hide them under the floor." She sighed. "Then they must go into the drawers."
She carefully stored the immaculate white gown, with its delicate satin bodice and skirt and pearl studded neckline, into the bottom drawer, and placed the delicate lace veil on top of that. The fedora and medallion was placed in the drawer above. The delicate rag dolls that belonged to every woman in her family were gently placed on the top of the dresser, behind the photograph of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and the photograph of her great-grandmother when she was young.
She wiped the dust off the glass. "You were so beautiful great- grandmother." She put the photograph down. "Not me though. I look like a boy."
Exhausted from the week's events, she curled up into her new bed. It wasn't as comfortable as her real bed, which was currently locked in storage, but it was decent enough. At least it wasn't a futon. Clutching her doll in her arms, she tucked her knees to her chin, and cried herself to sleep.
???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????
Wow. This is so much different from my first version. I had to look at the original for references, and I must say that my writing sucked. But this is so much better! Yeah, Gavlyn is a little mature for five, but then again, it did say she wasn't like most five year olds. Besides, I'm sure there are a few super geniuses out there! Right?