So for one of my classes we had to do an adaptation of a fairytale/foltale or just a story everyone what know, so I picked Peter Pan and did a look through the eyes of Captain Hook.
I posted it here because i know it was originally a book but i guess it would've also fit in the movie one because it takes place during the movie Disney movie, too; it's obvious by the end.

Anyway, it's already written so i figured I'd post it.

The Man Behind the Hook:
Musings of a Pirate

Captain James Hook. The evil villain of all the stories. Hook the Crook; can't nobody love a man like him.

Then there's Peter Pan. Poor Peter and his little lost boys who haven't got any mommies. Peter, the adorable boy who has adventures and shall never, ever grow up.

Families have been falling for that for years. I don't know who put pen to paper to tell this story, but they're seriously off it, I'm tellin' ya…

"Cap'n…."

"Not now Smee," I snap; I simply cannot put up with his sniveling just now.

He leaves without a word, respectful of his captain just as he should be, for I am the Captain James Hook, commander of the Jolly Roger. Sitting in the cabin of my beloved vessel, I can't help but think over the injustice of my life. Now, I can't deny my piracy, nor that I'm a swindler by trade, so 'Hook the Crook' is a title I can embrace. But there has been slander done to my name, and, oh, how I long to correct it.

Everyone thinks it started with me hand, the one Peter cut off and threw to that pestering crocodile, but really it didn't. First, let's correct that tale; he did not 'feed' it to the Croc…he merely happened to slice off my hand and it just happened to fall where the beast could eat it; Pan isn't clever enough to think of something so maniacal. Anyway, that did turn my life upside down for a bit; it hurt something awful and it took a moon or two before I came up with and engineered the perfect hook. It's true that the etiquette of revenge demands I hunt the little brat down and I cannot refuse such ancient laws, but it really boils down to something entirely different. It's so simple, so obvious; I don't know why more haven't joined me!

It's youth, plain and simple. He has it and I want it. I can't exactly plunder it for myself, but I can steal it right out from under him because if I can't have it then no one shall. Say all you want about that, but I'm a pirate – it's what I do. I never wanted to grow old either, yet here I am, older than the day I arrived, all while I'm plunk in the middle of a land full of youthful exuberance. I spent years pondering over why the magic didn't work for me; why did I continue to age? I've since given up on that and focused on the boy who takes it all for granted.

To him it's all a game! He's famous for saying "Death would be an awfully great adventure," but what crock is that? I was there when he said it, and let me tell you I've never wanted to sink my hook into him more. To live is the adventure, to live young and free is what's great! Oh, and he just laughs. What I wouldn't give for the spark of light I always see in his eyes…the kind of spark I can remember but no longer grasp for myself. For rubbing his everlasting life in the face of me and the world, the imbecile truly deserves to die.

You see? You see how it's so much more than my hand in the belly of that retched crocodile? Don't get me wrong, I hate the beast that hungers for me, but it's the clock that great brute swallowed that really sucks the wind from my sails. Tick, tock, tick, tock, never giving me a moment's rest…always reminding me that time itself is after me, eating away at me every second of every day. Time does this to all of us, you know…everyone except poor Peter. Bet you aren't feeling so sorry for him now, are you?

Are you so different from me, friend? Youth captivates the minds of everyone; it's why you like Peter's story in the first place. But isn't it really me you relate to? Ah, youth…don't people go to great lengths for it? Pay any price for it? How dare worlds of people look down on me! Fear me, that's fine, but belittle me not.

Perhaps I'm wasting my years with children, chasing them around a fantastical land. I'm brilliant after all, far more cunning that Blackbeard and those chaps…I could be truly great, you know…

"C-Cap'n…."

"What is it, Smee?" I ground out; could he not give me a minute's peace?

"It's, It's Peter, Cap'n. Peter Pan, he's been spotted, comin' this way for the Wendy and the kids."

Oh, of course, Boy Wonder always has to be the prepubescent hero. Very well, then.

I rise from my chair and straighten my wig, cringing as I think of my balding head beneath it. I wonder if Pan, in his simple minded glory, knows how old I am; does he have any real concept of age at all to know how lucky he is? Maybe he'll realize his luck when it all runs out, when I gut him.

I straighten my jacket and step onto the deck with crew and hostages. Wendy and the boys are all here, captured to lure Pan in so I can finally have him. If this plan should be foiled, I shall devise a more diabolical one in due time.

Yes, I could be great. I could be sailing many oceans, beating Long John Silver to the fanciest booty, but instead I'll chase children. I'll chase after the dream I can't have under the guise of revenge. Isn't life really the greatest of treasures anyway? It is, and I will take it...take it from the boy who hoards it like any silly toddler keeps candy to himself. And Peter, just like any rotten child, deserves to be punished.

So yes, I suppose I am obsessed. But not with a lost hand, not with a crocodile…with life, don't you see?