The wind whistled through the dark, empty streets of London. The few people that were still on the street hurried inside, avoiding the cold winds that were blowing steadily. Peter sat by the window, oblivious to the cold air that was forcing itself through the open window. He was dreaming, as usual, of faraway places and magical people.
"I wish I could fly. Then I'd fly far away from here, and I'll never have to grow up!" he said, with a sigh. He then swiftly looked around the empty nursery, and silently stood up on the window.
"Peter!! You get down from the ledge this instant! And close the door while you're at it, it's getting drafty in here!" shouted his mother as she walked gracefully into the room. She drew her robe around her and shivered a little as Peter closed the window with a bang. With a hung head he went towards his mother, waiting unconcernedly for a reply. She just smiled and gave him a hug, pulling him so tight that he couldn't breathe.
"It's just that I love you, and I rather see you die of old age then by jumping out of a window. And besides, it's getting late and you ought to be going to bed. Now off you go!" she gave him a little nudge and he sulked towards his bed. She waited until he was settled down, then she turned off the light and closed the door on her way out.
That night, Peter dreamt of fairies, leaping though his window and around his room. He tried to reach out and touch him, but they kept fluttering away and started taunting him. Finally he swung at them again, but found himself falling as the floor gave way. He was plummeting towards the ground when suddenly, he woke up with a start. He soon realized that he was drenched in sweat. As he tried to go back to sleep, he heard whispering in the hall. He swung his legs over the bedsheet, and put his ear to the heavy wooden door.
"Peter…yes…the boy…he may be small….still coming with us," the voices murmered. Peter held his breath partly in anticipation, and partly in fear. Who were these people in his house?
He didn't have time to question any longer. Hearing footsteps approaching the nursery, Peter darted into his bed, not wanting to be caught up at such a late hour.
The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a ray of light, and two shadowy figures. Peter glanced quickly away, resuming his sleeping position.
"Do you think he's awake?" one questioned.
"Better not be. No acceptable boy for our academy would be awake at this hour!"
Peter heard the voices recede as they left the doorway, closing it softly behind them. He sat up in bed, startled at the news. So his mother was sending him away to boarding school, without consulting him! Peter fumed with anger. How dare his mother even consider it! He didn't want to be sent to some strict upper-class boarding school. Though Peter often had dreamed of a faraway place, this boarding school sounded more of a nightmare. A strict boarding school would have no magic in it, and Peter feared it would force the little bit he had left out of him. How he wished he could fly, and leave this constricting city!
Tears trickled down his face as he put his head to his pillow. Suddenly, the lock on the window unlocked itself, and the windows flew open! Peter wiped away his tears, curious as to the strange happenings. He walked over to the window, then hesitated. What if this was a trap? He had heard of boys, taken away by stealthy kidnappers in the dead of night. He turned to go back to his bed, when he heard whispering voices. Unlike the harsh voice of a kidnapper, these was calming and somewhat with us….to magical places. Leave this cruel place, follow us…..magic does exist with us…" beckoned the voices. Peter gasped in surprise. How did these voices know his name? If they were kidnappers, why do they sound so comforting. He crept to the windowsill and peered out into the darkness. In the light of the streetlamps, he could see fairies! Thousands of tiny fairies, with glittering wings and golden skin. He looked closer and noticed that they were all smiling. The one closest to him moved towards Peter.
"Come with us Peter. Come away and never return." She smiled and fluttered back into the group of fairies. He hesitated, but never the less, stood up on the windowsill.
"But…but…I can't fly!" he stammered.
"Yes you can. You can if you think you can." one of the fairies said.
"I…I…think," he gulped "I think..I can fly". He stretched out his arms, expecting for nothing to happen. Suddenly, he realized that he wasn't touching the windowsill anymore. He was really flying! He felt as if clouds had come under his arms and lifted him up.
"Are you ready, Peter?" they said. He nodded, and they gave him a little push. He soon realized that he was flying over the rooftops of London, and was headed towards the sky.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To Neverland".