Peter Pan wasn't happy.
He sat down on an old rotten branch and stuck his hand beneath his chin, his bottom lip producing outwards into a pout.
'Why can't I scare anyone?' He thought unhappily. 'It's not too hard! All I have to do is go up behind them and shout BOO!'
He flopped backwards lying onto the branch, oblivious to the ominous creaking and final SNAP! as the branch he was lying on broke away and crashed into the ground. He kept on lying there though, not perturbed by the lack of support beneath him.
You see, Peter Pan is a ghost.
It's not very well known but he is. He never grows up because when he was fourteen he was playing jungle boy and he accidentally ran out into the road where he was run over by a semi-trailer, which permanently destroyed his body.
Whenever he takes people to Neverland, he is really giving them and Out of Body experience, trying to get them to decide whether they want to let go of life or keep on living. Peter is in charge of the Lost Boys, a group of unruly, childish poltergeists who he enjoyed mucking around with and fighting pirates. But recently, he had decided that he wanted to start scaring people; but unfortunately in these modern times, with all the scary movies it takes a lot more than a few scary sounds to scare people.
"It's not fair! I've been a good ghost, done all the things asked of me and I still can't scare anyone!" He moaned loudly, kicking his legs in the air in frustration. He felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes and he brought up his hands to cover his face from the world as he let out his frustration.
"Why are you crying, Peter? What's wrong?" A melodious voice called out, causing him to shriek like a girl and jump higher in the air. He cautiously opened his eyes and surveyed the girl in front of him.
Wendy Moria Angela Darling was a living angel. Her long auburn hair was French plaited and nearly reached the small of her back, her silky blue gown was sky blue and was as fresh and as dainty as if it had just been made yesterday; giving her an air of grace that so few people ever achieved in their lifetime.
Her face would make a grown man cry if sad; as her cerulean eyes showed more emotion than Peter thought was possible. Right now she was smiling and Peter could just see, there in the right hand corner of her mouth, her hidden kiss. The secret part of her heart that only he would ever hold. Contrast to all her beauty, grace and elegance, on her left hip was a scabbard which usually held an ancient sword that Wendy was currently holding in her right hand. That was the thing that Peter admired the most about Wendy; she was as smart and as beautiful as any woman, but she was not easily scared and wasn't afraid to fight for what she believed in.
"Don't' scare me like that! That's my job. And I wasn't crying!" He glared halfheartedly at her but gave up as she gave him 'the look'.
"Still having problems scaring people huh." She looked sympathetically at him as he nodded.
"Well maybe you should start practicing on people who know you?" Wendy spoke quietly as she floated up and wrapped a slender arm around his tough shoulders. Wendy was also a ghost, but she was one that looked after all the other children who have died.
"Wendy. No one will let me scare them so there's no point." He crossed his arms and looked petulantly at her.
"Weeeell" Wendy paused, surveying the expectant look on Peter's face in amusement.
"Go on! Don't keep me waiting."
"You could, " Wendy whispered into Peter's ear, grinning as a smirk formed on his face and the usual mischievous glint reappeared in his eyes.
"Perfect," he whispered.