*A note before you start reading! I don't own any of the characters (except for the ones created by me) and you might want to watch SyFy's Neverland before reading this. Also, I haven't written anything in a very long time and my writing is really rusty. I promise that once I start to get my mojo back, I'll come back and edit this chapter. And I make mistakes. Of course I'm human, but I've got dyslexia, so thank you.
"And when we first came here
We were cold and we were clear
With no colors on our skin
Till we let the spectrum in."
-Florence + The Machine, Spectrum.
"Where's your shadow?" Pointed Curly, his eyes widened with confusion.
The lost boys, in unison, looked down at Peter's feet.
No shadow? Peter thought. There's no such thing.
Peter quickly looked down. His eyes froze on his newly stolen black dress shoes. How could this be? His eyes rapidly wandered everywhere around his body. A few feet away Peter could hear people from the tribe exclaim. Their whispers cluttered his head with a language he barely understood.
A few moments later, Peter overlooked everyone around him. The people of the tribe steadily moved back to where they originated, shaking their heads. Peter swallowed his fear and finally heard someone break the silence that clenched him.
"How could this happen?" Aaya questioned, standing several feet away from Peter who was too baffled for words, slowly moving towards him.
The lost boys shook their heads and shrugged. Peter blinked several times and tried to let it all sink in: he had no shadow. The knot in his stomach continued to tighten as Aaya continued questioning Peter's actions.
What did you do, Peter? What did you do? Peter thought.
"Peter?" Aaya said, "Have you heard what I said?"
"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Peter replied with his hands shaking by his sides.
Aaya sighed, "What did you do when you left? Where did you go?"
Peter looked through his brief time back in London. His memories shuffled in his head like a filing cabinet but he couldn't quite remember. He put the Orb away; he stole gifts for the boys, and got himself some new clothes. Could he have lost it back in London? Peter could see himself running through the dark streets of London, people lay on their backs sleeping; their clothes ripped, while he was trying to find the perfect place to hide the Orb, where no one would ever think to look.
Peter's heart raced as he tried to remember the exact moment when something would've went wrong. He was only in London for a short time.
In London, he remembered visiting Jimmy's old fencing academy. As Peter slowly entered he could hear the stomps of feet from the floor above him. He slowly hid behind the door of his old room and pressed his ear against it.
"This is ridiculous, Albert. We have no idea where he is." A man spoke. His voice was hard and determine.
Where what is?
"None of us do," This man had a different accent than the other man. "We must find him. He has all the answers to this."
The men went silent for a moment and then continued raiding the Lost Boys room. He could hear thumping and clashing within the room. What and who are they looking for? Peter had thought to himself.
A sudden memory took over his mind. The days of when Peter and Lost boys gathered in their shared bedroom. It seemed so long ago that they would tell stories (although most of them lacked the creativity to), plan out their next job, and have Jimmy praise them for all the excellent work they had done so far. The memory felt like another life to Peter.
Peter stood next to the door a little while before leaving. As Peter was making his way down he heard loud yelling booming back and forth.
"We must come up with a solution, Albert!"
"And we will, but not here! We must find a place to talk about this, George."
Albert had said.
Talk about what? Fludd? The Orb? Peter had thought.
George sighed, "Yes we must, but my work at the bank been a bit overwhelming these days."
Albert laughed, "Having trouble talking, Mr. Darling?"
"As a matter of fact, yes I do have trouble talking…to my superior's," George had mumbled, "Why don't we discuss this over dinner? Maybe you could bring your family over later this week, perhaps?"
"Yes, yes of course. That would be fantastic."
"Oh and please Albert, leave your Spanish influence in Spain. I would not be fond of you if the Spanish army burst into my house." George had warned.
"Yes, yes George."
He's from Spain! Peter had thought. That's why he has the funny accent.
After that, Peter had slipped into a small antique shop a few blocks down from Jimmy's old fencing academy. He remembered everything, the darkness that surrounded him, the man sleeping on the counter, the droopy old dog, a candle that was on the brink of burning out, and her.
He tipped toed around; searching for goodies the boys might like. He remembered seeing old pottery, dusty instruments, shabby bookcases, but nothing really caught his eye.
As Peter pondered through the shop quietly and found a copy of 'The Arabian Nights', two copies of encyclopedias, and he quickly shoved them into his black leather bag. That just leaves Curly and Nibs, Peter had thought. He continued to look around not finding anything interesting.
In the background he could hear crashes, clangs, and occasional booming. Since no one was coming from the back it did not really concern him…until she came out. At that moment Peter scrambled to a near by corner.
As she entered the room he saw that her chestnut hair hung down her mid back. Her creamy skin glowed in the dim light and her eyes glistened like jewels in the night. Her clothes were crisp and proper. A small hat sat on her head and small gloves covered her hands.
Must be a school uniform, Peter had thought.
She slowly walked towards the sleeping man and patted his back, "Grandpa, grandpa. We must go. Mother will be upset if we arrive late."
The man let out a small shriek. "Oh dear," he shuttered, "it's only you my dear Wendy. It's only you. I'm afraid that I've had a nightmare."
She laughed lightly, "Goodness, Grandpa. Surely you finished fixing my harmonica?"
Her grandfather chuckled, "Very close my dear, very close."
The man drew his coat in closer to chest as if trying to protect himself from the chill of the night air. Wendy smiled. She gracefully put her two arms around her grandfather and led him to the back of the shop.
The man drew in a breath before they entered and said, "Dear child, what have you done here?"
Wendy laughed, "Just looking for my old school pen. I've got to write an essay tomorrow. Have you seen it?"
"All this for an old pen, child? Surely there must be others out there in the world." Her grandfather sighed.
"Of course there are, Grandpa, but this one has a particular story to it. I just wish I could find it somewhere."
Wendy's Grandfather kissed her head. "You'll find it my child. Even if it's in the most obscure place, you'll find it."
"I hope so," Wendy answered.
"But now we've got to clean up the mess you've made." He smiled.
Wendy laughed.
Peter saw Wendy hold her grandfathers arm and carefully guide him to the back shop and watched their shadows disappear. Then he walked up to the counter Wendy's grandfather was sleeping on. From a distance, he could see shadows moving in the back room, but he went on.
As Peter neared the counter and he saw the shinny looking harmonica that Wendy mentioned. He gently played several notes and it seemed to be in exceptional quality. He wrapped the newly played Harmonica with a bit of cloth and stuffed it into his bag. Wendy won't miss this, Peter had thought playfully. Even so, something about Wendy triggered something in his mind, but he pushed it away before it became anything more then just a thought.
As Peter opened the door to leave a small jingle filled the room. A few moments later, he heard stomping feet echoing. Scared, Peter quickly hid behind a small box of old toys.
"What was that?" Peter heard from the backroom.
Peter could see Wendy gracefully enter the room. He could hear her panting and she clutched her grimy skirt tightly and shivered. She must be cold, Peter thought. He could see her briefly inspected the room; fiddle with old books and toys until she shook her head lightly.
"Must be the wind," Wendy muttered.
Wendy found a chair a couple of feet away from Peter. She sat down and sighed. As she looked around the old shop once more and her hand slid down into her pocket. She took out a notebook and flipped through some pages. She took off her hat and took a small pencil out and started to scribble in the notebook.
As she did, Peter wondered what she was writing or drawing, about her long day at school. Peter could not remember what day of the week it was. All the time he has spent in Neverland made him lose track of time.
Peter stared at her blindly. The world seemed to halt when she was in his presence. He has never been so captivated by someone before. The way she pushed her hair behind her ears, the way she smiled, even the way she spoke kept Peter in such utter shock. It was angelic to him. Peter had barely been in the presence of a female before, with the exception of pit pocketing, Aaya, Captain Bonny, and just Jimmy and the boys.
"What was it Wendy?" Her Grandfather called out.
"A gust of wind, grandpa." Wendy dropped the notebook she was scribbling and walked back into the backroom.
As her shadow disappeared, Peter emerged from behind the toy box picked up her notebook and flipped through it. He could see pictures with occasional captions on the side, but nothing more.
This must be her journal.
After snooping through Wendy's Journal. Peter ran out of the shop, which triggered the jingle once more. Outside the shop Peter could hear the shouting and barking coming from the shop.
Breathing heavily, Peter stood outside the shop and he clearly read the name: Darling's Antique's. Peter embedded the name of the shop in his head and headed back to the Orb.
From behind him he heard shrieks that came from a man and a young girl.
"Don't you come back here!"
Peter felt a slight pang on his back. He paused, looked behind him, and saw that Wendy was throwing rocking at him. She bent down, holding on to her skirt, and targeted him. Peter continued to run away hoping they did not remember his face.
Behind him he could hear claws ripping through the ground. Peter turned to look and saw that the dog ad chased him and was gnawing on his pants.
"Get off!" Peter shouted. "Stop it!"
The dog continued to growl and would not let go. Peter broke into a run and felt like something was ripped from him. He did not know what it was but he kept on running. He quickly glanced at his pants and saw that the dog had bitten apiece off.
"Peter...Peter? Hello?" Aaya spoke. "Are you okay?"
Aaya's hand was waving in front of his face. Peter rubbed his eyes and smiled. "I know where it is."
"How?" Aaya asked.
Peter sighed and told them briefly, but carefully leaving out the parts involving Albert, George, Wendy, and her notebook. He didn't know why but he did.
"And then he started throwing rocks at me and I headed back towards the orb and his savage dog was chasing me!" He took a quick breath.
"I'm not following you, Peter." Curly replied. "How did your shadow disappear from your body?"
"Don't you understand, lads?" He laughed. "When the old man was throwing those rocks at me his dog bit my pants and ripped a piece off including my shadow. It's the only explanation. That's when my shadow left my body...it was torn away."
Peter could see the confusion on their faces.
"How could such a thing like that happen?" Aaya asked.
"Nothing is ever what it seems is it?" Peter grinned. "Now...I've gotta find a way back to London."
Thank you for reading! I promise the next chapter will be better!