Everyone knows the story of Peter Pan, you know, the boy who never grew up? The children's classic written by J.M. Barrie and that old Disney movie? The infamous Captain Hook and his pirates, the jealous fairy with pixie dust, and the lucky children who got to fly to Neverland?
Yeah, that one.
Fun to read and that 1953 Disney movie isn't that bad but, to be thrown onto the island of Never Neverland, or more likely to wash upon the shore, is a completely different story. Your beloved characters are definitely not what you want them to be. Peter Pan? Stupid annoying teenage boy who is cocky as all hell. Captain Hook? Angsty old man who wishes for Wendy to return. Wendy and the other Darling children? Nobody in Neverland gives a shit about them unless your angsty Captain Hook. And where the hell is Tinker Bell? Tinker Bell? What pixie? I haven't seen her since the moment I dragged myself off that damn beach and was pulled into this bitter revenge plot.
And who might I be? The most badass of them all. Lol jk, no I'm just a loser who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Heck, I didn't even like that accursed Disney movie why the hell was I even brought into all this crap? Anyway, if you hadn't read the title, this is the story of how I became the very first Lost Girl. No, it wasn't Jane which I know some of you hardcore fans believe, but it was not, and like hell anybody pays attention to Disney sequels unless it's going to be a sequel to Frozen or if it's Toy Story 1000. And for those of you who read that J.M. Barrie novel that claims Peter Pan just takes Wendy's descendants, that's all just bullshit but I'll have to explain all that later, this is the the story about me. The ever so magical (not really) story of how I somehow managed to get that moronic teenage boy who flies to fall in love with me, Captain Hook to be thwarted from what I must admit is a very good revenge plot, and to have the entire island of bullshit Never Neverland to probably, most likely, hate me.
So here I go, retelling the most epically stupid of stories that should definitely never go with the book that has a permanent residence in the Classics section of Barnes and Noble; the story of how I became the very first Lost Girl.
Jasmine Hahn, 15, stupid. Talents include, doing nothing, but doing nothing exceptionally. Master at being yelled at for unproductivity and is grounded like a queen. Now my magical story does not begin in the dismal location of sunny Southern California of where I grudgingly abode, where is the second star to the right? That's right, the beautiful, cold city of London, England. But how does one Southern California hermit magically wake up on the mystical sand of Neverland's beaches? That is a question I constantly ask myself as well considering the fact that the portal to Neverland is one, in a different country, two is in the sky, three should certainly most definitely not exist. But if I might interject the one way I so happened to even get close to this fictitious location, it was by cruise.
A cruise? She must be ridiculous, the readers thought but alas, it was the way I landed in Neverland. I did not fly, I was not kidnapped by pirates (until later), and so I assumed this was the only way the universe could figure out how to torture me.
Shall we have her almost drown in the ocean through a magical whirlpool to land on the stupidest island that we made just to see if we could defy physics?
Universe, I am mentally giving you the bird.
Anyhow, the cruise came from my parents sudden urge to travel before I started my first year of high school. When my parents asked me where I wanted to go that summer the only word I said was "cold." Behold the cruise to Europe was planned. I honestly did not believe that England could be that cold in the summer but balmy weather to a Brit was probably sweater and scarf weather to any Californian. But the problem was neither the cruise nor England, it was my powers of underestimating England's strong winds and my lack of body weight.
I am still convinced it was a magical gust of wind that caused me to go sailing over the cruise deck's railings and into waters that I'm certain would have made the passengers on the Titanic die faster. Into these bitterly cold waters I was dragged under, in a swirling mess underneath the ship and probably to the bottom of the ocean. The moment I thought I was going to die, Death told me Lol nah, another day hon, and I awoke to white sand beaches and a view of a jungle.
After a "what the hell" moment, I dragged my face out of the sand and threw up on a bed of kelp before stumbling along the shore. I looked around to find myself on an island surrounded by miles of blue-green water as far as I could see. At the time I would have never imagined it to be Neverland and at first thought I was dead but after throwing up again I decided God would not make me feel so shitty in heaven. My knees felt like jelly and after many failed attempts to stand I came to the brilliant decision to just lie there and take a nap like the wonderful hermit I was. I have no idea how long I was asleep for but when I woke up there was a brown sack going over my head. I threw up again, probably into the sack.
