Hey guys! This is my second story and the reason for me picking a Peter Pan story to write is because I recently was given the role of Tinkerbell in my theatre company's production of Peter Pan! ( :D ) So yeah, now I'm writing about it! :)
PLEASE READ! ***This story is based on the 2003 Peter Pan starring Jeremy Sumpter and Rachel Hurd-Wood. I DO NOT own the story or characters of Peter Pan. ENJOY!***
The wind rustled softly in the branches above the long growing thistles and thorn plants. The cold midnight air amongst the flowers and the animals on the island of Neverland had sent shivers down their stems and spines, including the human residents there. The pirates huddled on the Jolly Roger, the mermaids resting within the lagoons, the fairies in the largest of the islands trees, the brave Indians in their huts and tee-pees, and within the mists of the jungle, laying wide awake safe in his hollow tree, the boy who would never grow up.
His toes squirmed into the dirt resting below his feet, his tired eyes wondering around his secret hideout. Ever since the lost boys had left to live with Wendy and her family, he had grown rather lonely.
The first rays of the morning sun had begun to rise over the crystal clear waters of the beaches where He once would play. All was the same as always, the birds sang their own song during the day, the fairies danced in the moon light at night, and the bees swarmed around the sweet smelling flowers of the meadows. However, the familiar sound of the birds songs was now fainter, the sight of the fairy's dance was rare, the bees kept to their own business and the flowers would no longer rise in the morning and be their vibrant self. It had seemed like over the past 3 years that the island's magic had slowly faded. The pirates knew it. The Indians knew it. The mermaids knew it. The fairies knew it. And the plants and animals knew it too. Yet, absolutely no one had any idea of how this could be.
At night the animals would now be afraid and go into hiding. The fairies no longer wandered the island's jungle, looking for adventures. The Indians rarely went hunting alone, and the seasons stayed quite dull.
Throughout the land there was chatter of the change that had been happening, and the less there was seen of the once adventurous little boy. The Loneliness that grew within his chest bothered him greatly, almost as much as these things that Wendy once spoke of called 'feelings' did. However, to his dismay, that was not the only thing about Peter that was growing.