I realyl wanted to write a new fic, so I picked Wendy and Peter, whats not to love about my first ship. So I just sorta started writing and this is kinda what happened yeah, it's nto very good but I'd appreciate reviews on if I should continue it or leave it where it is!
:)
Neverland.
I've experienced all it has had to offer once before, my guide being a boy named Peter Pan, my greatest of friends. Peter was unlike any other boy I had met, there was a twinkle in his eye, a childlike gleam, his smile could light up a room and he loved my stories. I dearly miss telling him my stories, he'd become so peaceful, so happy. He used to call me Wendy-bird, only calling me Wendy when there was something of great importance. I loved that boy, and I probably would have married him if he had to have come home with my brothers and I. However, he didn't want to come, because if he left Neverland, he would grow up. I had told him it was much better as an adult, you could still be childlike if you wanted to. But he didn't agree. So we returned home, and I bid goodbye to my friend Peter.
It's been several years since that night, and it is now the eve of my birthday, my seventeenth birthday. It all seemed like a dream, Captain Hook, the ticking clock, the swordfights, the thimble, the kiss. I probably would've forgotten about it too, if it hadn't been for my new brothers, the lost boys that weren't so lost anymore. Our home was happier than it had ever been; they brightened our home with their songs and tales of Neverland, which my mother and father thought were make-believe.
I miss Peter; I would be lying if I said I never did, and some nights I would cry, beg to be taken away to Neverland. I would never get a response. However, I had a strong feeling that Peter visited, not often, but visited nonetheless. Things would appear on my windowsill, like acorns, pretty leaves, little shells and multicoloured flowers among a few others. We could never meet again anyways, I was turning seventeen and he would be still stuck at the age of thirteen. Sometimes I anger myself, saying "Wendy Darling, you should have stayed!" But alas, I think I would have missed my mother, father and brothers too much.
It was half past 11, thirty minutes until I came of the prospective age to marry, but it wasn't like I was interested in marrying. I think the whole ordeal rather, over-acknowledged, almost like instead of "Happy Seventeenth Birthday", you get a "Happy Timetogetmarried- Day!", but it wouldn't be quite as appealing as the other saying.
Mother laid out a dress for me earlier; it's a light eggshell blue colour, with a fairly low-cut neckline and smart heels, along with it she supplied a heavy pearl necklace, earrings to match and a white ribbon for my hair. My hair is rather long now, I recently have refused to cut it, if only for a trim, and it now reaches the small of my back; I have the longest hair in my school. Quite a heavy feet as Susanne Giovanni has rather long, silky, bright red hair. I, on the other hand, have brown hair, that is rather dull looking in colour, but it has a silky sheen, along with a wave-like curl that no one could replicate at a salon. I'm told I'm beautiful, I know I'm not ugly, most definitely not, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder; and not the object of affection at all.
11:57
11:58
11:59
12:00
Seventeen.
Not as life changing as I would have imagined, but I am of age now, I guess. It doesn't feel like it, I still feel like an awkward, teenage girl rather than a beautiful, graceful woman. If Peter was here, he'd tell me I was beautiful, and I would believe it coming from his mouth.
I'd believe everything he said, because there wasn't a bad bone in his body.
