Amelia Thompson was walking down the East End in London, her hands in her pockets. Her bright red hair usually puffed up in the humidity of London's crowded streets, but no that night. Amelia looked sadly at the ground, a tear dripped off her nose and onto the pavement; this can't be happening to me... she thought quivering. Amelia's sister Allis was dead, and Amelia was alone. People stopped and stared as Amelia broke into tears, crying Allis's name and whimpering. She noticed them and softly moved off to the ally nearby. She sat there, her pale freckled face and her blue eyes red with tears. She sat with her back against a box full of cabbage and the sewer drain of the 'Hellfire Inn and Pub'. Just then, emerging from the shadows of the alley, an old man, hooded in black robes, came walking towards her from nowhere. "Why are you so sad?" he asked as he knelt down to her, "My, my, Child, Please tell me what it is." Amelia hesitated, it was as if he knew she was there, but he just appeared, out of nowhere! Amelia looked at him wide eyed. "Wh-where, what, how!" she jabbered. The cloaked man chuckled, "Oh child, I cannot tell you exactly where, for it is a mystery." Amelia never took no for an answer, "Tell me where you are from now, Or I shall scream and the policeman will be on his way here in seconds." The old man didn't seem to take this as threatening, he just sighed and rocked back on his heels, "Well, I am from a special place, where everything is good." Amelia looked at the man, shaking her head, "I'm sorry for being so blunt but, you must be drunk, sir, for nothing in the world is entirely good. For life is like…hell on earth." Again the old man chuckled deeply, "You don't believe me that it's magic?" Amelia shook her head, "Well then, here take this then, and when you're all but strangling yourself to know what it is, tap it once, then strike it hard. Then we will see if I am drunk or not." The old man reached behind him and offered a glowing orb to her. Hesitating, Amelia looked at it, "Go on take it!" cried the old man. Amelia was frightened and took the orb, then swiftly turned around and darted out of the alley and back to her home in the old fencing school. Turning the old man chuckled and disappeared into the darkness again.
Amelia sat on the bed and stared at the orb in her house inside the old fencing school. "Do you think it's really magic?" she asked the mouse on the floor, eating the last of the crumbs by the falling down table. The mouse squeaked its reply then ran off into a little hole in the floor. Amelia signed and looked over at the chess piece on the table. It was a gift to her sister, from their father. The chess piece was made of pure silver and was shaped like a fine knight on horseback. The knight held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Amelia reached over and grabbed it up from the table. Allis had promised never to sell the chess piece, since their father had died when they were young. Amelia had never met her father, for he had died the few months before she was born. She never met her mother either, for she died in child-birth. So, all of her life she was raised by Allis, and while Amelia roamed and played music on her violin in the streets and sometimes worked in workhouses, Allis worked in the factories. Amelia looked over at her violin. It sat leaned against the wall, its green tinted wood sparkling in the dim candle light. Amelia stood up, bumping the table with her hip. As she did this, the orb started to glow! Amelia jumped back in fright. She remembered what the man had told her, 'A special place, where everything is good.' She made up her mind. She went over to the wall and put the green violin in its case, then packed the only sweater she ever had in a bag, and put on her floppy hat that shaded her face. She took a deep breath and grabbed the chess knight from the table. "Tap once," Amelia tapped on the orb and it lit up, "Then strike it hard!" Amelia grabbed the orb and tossed it as hard as she could to the ground, and in that moment, before it hit the floor, she thought of Allis. The orb slammed to the ground and it all went black.
Amelia awoke on muddy ground, whispers all around her. "Who is she?" "Did she come from home?" "What are in her bags?" Amelia blinked her eyes and pushed herself from the ground. Five boys stood in front of her. "Who are you!" demanded the oldest. Amelia looked around, in shock that it worked. "Hey, Curly just asked you a question!" yelled another boy. "Let's bring her to Peter, he'll know what to do.", cried another. They grabbed her arms and others grabbed her bags and walked into the forest. The boys dragged her along the ground, they didn't even give her enough time to stand up and walk. When they got to a large log they stopped. Amelia's knees were scuffed up and bloody. One of the boys took a blindfold from his pocket and tried it around her eyes. "Where are you taking me? Let me go!" cried Amelia as she struggled in their grip. "Where taking you to Peter, he'll know what to do with you!" cried a small voice beside her. "May I at least know your names?" said Amelia quietly, but there was no answer. The next thing she realized was the blindfold being removed. The light in the room was bright and it took a while for her eyes to adjust; before Amelia, stood a boy, about her own age. His clothes were all but rags and, much to Amelia's surprise, he was flying! Amelia screamed. "What? How are you" "What is this!" cried the boy flying whom her captors called 'Peter'. "Peter, we found her in the woods." Called the one they called 'Curly'. Peter nodded, "What is your name?" he called to her. "Am-Amelia…sir..." Amelia stuttered, she hadn't realized that she had called him 'sir' until she saw the gleam and the shock in his eyes. "Amelia...yes…And what brings you to Neverland?" "Neverland, is that what this place is called?" Peter nodded, "Well I am from Shortage, London. The East End of Shortage to be exact." She heard whispers from the boy's behind her, "She's from Shortage too?" "Wow, I wonder if she knows about the fencing school." Amelia turned around, "The Fencing school, Yes, I know where that it, because I live in it!" Peter looked at her, his eyes wide, "What year was it in your time?" Amelia spun around, "What do you mean?" Peter came closer, "What year was it when you hit the orb?" "How did you-"Peter's face got red, then it cooled, he took a deep breath, "Just, what year was it?" Amelia looked at him funny, "It is 1912, August 13, 1912." Peter looked at her then laughed, "Well what happened?" Amelia looked at him funny again, "Whatever do you mean!" Amelia was getting frustrated, Peter was acting like a child and as if he didn't know what year it was! "I mean, what happened since 1906?" "Well, nothing too major happened. The Titanic sank." The boys buzzed with questions behind her, "Are there flying machines now?" "What about workhouses, are they gone?" "What new books are out?" Amelia was being over whelmed by the questions. "Stop!" cried Peter when he saw her looking strange, "We need to let her rest, it must have been a long day for her. Tootles show our guest to her bed." One of the boys behind her stepped forward and led her to a hammock on the farthest end of the room. The sun was setting and Amelia was certain this was all just a dream. By the time she wakes up, Amelia was certain she will be in her house getting ready for a new day, But she was wrong.
Amelia woke up in the middle of the night, something called her awake. She looked around, it was still the little secret hut somewhere deep in the forest. "Amelia…" called a voice in the wind, "Amelia…" Amelia got up and followed the winds voice, "Amelia, get your violin…and play for us…" Amelia did as the wind commanded; she grabbed her case and followed the voice out of the hut. Just as she left, Peter awoke and saw her leave. The voice called to him too, "Peter…Follow her…" Peter got up and followed Amelia out of the dark hut. Amelia walked out of the hut and followed the voice to a place on a cliff that looked over the sea. She sat on the rock and rolled up her pant leg. Her knees where bloody and scuffed. She grimaced as she touched them. "It looks like it hurts." Amelia shook her head, her red curls bounced. Peter laughed, "Well, why are you out here?" he asked. Amelia hesitated but finally replied, "A voice…It called me…" "So you hear it too?" said Peter looking at her, surprised. Amelia nodded; she reached down and grabbed her violin case from the ground, dusted it off and took the violin out of it. She began to play a song; it was smooth and peaceful, sad but graceful, a melody that swayed in the breeze of the cool night. Peter, watching her carefully, took out his pipe from his coat pocket. He put it to his lips and played the same notes. Together, the pipe and the violin sounded as one, the same saying melody carried on the wind. Finally the song was over, Peter looked at Amelia and laughed, "Where did you hear that song?" Amelia frowned and looked to the ground, "My sister, Allis, hummed it to me at night." Peter knew that her sister was a sensitive topic but he just wanted to know about Amelia better. "Were you close to Allis?" he asked softly. Amelia nodded, "She raised me, I would be dead without her." Peter looked to the ground too, "My parents died when I was little too… My father was murdered by the captain of the pirate ship in the bay." Amelia looked up, her eyes wide, "P-Pirates?" she whispered. Peter smiled, "An Indians too!" he laughed, but Amelia's face started solid in fear. "Oh, there is nothing to worry about, the Pirates are far away and the Indians are kind. Oh, there's one last thing we know of that lives here." Amelia looked up at him, "What?" "Fairy's…." Peter said in a whispery tone. Amelia looked at him strange, as if to say, 'You're crazy!' but Peter shook his head and said, "Tomorrow I will show you Indians, fairy's and maybe a glimpse of the pirates." Amelia nodded her head. Peter looked at her, "Now, what shall we call you? You feel from the sky, like a bird, but, you look ever so light and fragile, as if one touch could break you." Amelia looked at Peter as he said this; he seemed to be talking to himself. "Sparrow, that's what I shall call you!" he blurted suddenly. "I love the name, Peter, but why don't you have one?" Amelia, or now Sparrow, asked. Peter shrugged, "I guess I just don't."