That Which Never Ends
A/N: Fluffy but not sugary, but most important to some of you, Peter/Wendy. Set in the present day. I'm not British, so please accept my apologies for poorly mimicking the dialect, temperament, attitudes, idioms, sights, sounds, places… and Americanizing the characters. Umm...OC protagonist.
When Emma first saw the old house, she found it quite interesting in a plain sort of way. It was tall and lanky with a sophisticate charm to it although squished between the larger and younger buildings; its face almost disappearing from sight, as if the street tried to move away from its time. And yet, the tiny home persisted, even if a brick had fallen out of place here and the shingles were missing in blotches there, and it seemed to welcome the new family with a forceably subdued eagerness.
"Isn't it lovely, Cassy?" The infant cooed at her mother, taking more interest in her necklace than in their new dwelling.
"Mum," Emma backed up and aimed her camera at the building, zooming in on all the small aspects of its face. "It's in dire need of repair. Is it inhabitable at this point?"
"Oh, it needs a bit of love and care, but that's why we had you."
"Ha ha, very amusing mother."
"Honestly though sweety, you will need to do without your distractions for a while. It's a wonderful place but it has a long way to go before it's half of what it use to be, and even longer until it is what it can be."
Uncle Waldorf pulled up behind their car, greeting his niece and sister before opening the trunk. "So what do you think of your new home, Emmy?"
"It's something." She said and snapped the picture. She turned to her uncle, watching him as he struggled with the boxes and luggage. Mrs. Halming walked up the stoop, fiddling in her handbag for the key. "Please Cassy, don't choke mummy."
"Uncle Waldo," Emma walked over to him. "Will it be safe tonight?"
"Emmy…are you still afraid of the Boogieman? You know he only takes the younger ones. You're far too much of an old maid for his tastes."
"You're mean." She pouted playfully. "And no. I'm concerned about the electricity. We have none until tomorrow morning and from the looks of the outside, the inside flooring must be full of holes and the ceiling with falling beams."
"Don't fret. This house was made to do with candles and oil lanterns, and I brought plenty of lamps and flashlight for you guys. And your mother wouldn't bring you girls in unless she knew the house was liveable right now."
Emma was satisfied with his reply, and then he added, "Besides, you're too large to fall into any of the crevices and quick like a bobcat, you'll dodge those beams."
"Oh I feel so at ease now, Uncle."
"Any time, babe." He grunted. The box gave way and out it came, throwing him backwards and flat on the pavement. Emma made an "Oh" with her lips and snapped a picture.
wwwww
The three made almost no dent in the amount of unpacking they had to do, although they worked all day. It was almost impossible to do much since many rooms would need major repairs, and the movers arrived six hours late, which earned them a reprimand from Emma's uncle.
"I'd feel much more at ease, if I was allowed to stay overnight with you ladies." Uncle Waldo insisted. Emma's mother kindly denied his requested offer but Emma argued for her uncle's company. Finally, her mother relented and Emma prepared the sofa found in the living room for him, seeing as to how the only two hospitable rooms were already taken up. Kissing her mother, uncle and sister goodnight, Emma picked up a box of candles and retired to her new bedroom, sighing from the door when she surveyed the room and listing all the things she needed to do to it before it truly felt like home. With the help of her flashlight she placed the candles in each candle holder available, and lit the room as best she could. It wasn't perfect, she thought as she looked from wall to wall again, but out of all the rooms in the house, this was the one that was in the least need of a handyman.
The wooden floor would need a good polishing, and plenty of carpeting to cover up the deep scratches. A new paint job was definitely in order and the brass wall hangings and chandelier would need a good cleaning. Emma stared at the window and noted its inviting charm. It was quite large and curved out, forming a semi circle that protruded through to the outside of the front of the house. It divided into 3 separate windows, the two outer ones, each half the width of the middle one. She pictured her uncle could fashion a sort of curved chest that could double as a seat and fit snuggly below the window. She began estimating the dimensions and style of it while searching for and putting up curtains.
Next, she prepared her bed, or rather the mattress that was laid out on top of a sheet on the floor. She wished she could put up her pictures, posters and portraits, but of course, that would only be a waste, since tomorrow she was to paint. Finding that sleep had left for the moment, she decided to look through her pictures. She connected her camera to her laptop and skimmed through the files, laughing at the one where her uncle laid on the street with a heavy box on his chest. She stunted her chuckling before she truly started making fun of her poor uncle and moved on to the previous image. It was the first picture of her new home, which she wanted to have to compare to when the remodeling was complete. She stared at it for a while, realizing that there was something really loving yet mournful about its appearance. It was old- circa late 1890's- so it kept some of the era's haughtiness, yet there was a sort of youthful wit that embraced the face of it, and she decided that it was the large window right at the center and high above the main doors that was the culprit; it was her window. She was inspecting the subtle beauty of its panels when her eyes caught sight of an oddity. She squinted and then zoomed into the bottom left corner of the window until it was too pixilated to be anything distinguishable.
"Hmm.., " Emma turned to her window and then back to her computer screen. She got up and inspected the puzzling spot on the wood with the help of her flashlight, but was unsatisfied. She returned to her mattress and stared at the screen. Huffing before clicking off the image. "Oh damn it," she said to herself as she put everything away and changed into sweats. Her camera had slipped from her grasp earlier that day when she tried to carry it and two other boxes of her things to the car. She'd feared she'd injured it in some way and now it seemed that she had.
Emma walked around the room, blowing out all candles and went to bed, a bit distraught but relenting. The gentle quiet of the house soon relaxed her senses, allowing her to drift off into sleep. A slight glimmer of moonlight penetrated the room through the curtains and with this light, it could be seen if there were any open eyes to see that the silhouette of a young hand graced her face.