Flying was unlike anything I had ever done before. It was different from skating. It was different from jumping on my bed, trying to touch the ceiling. It was amazing.
I sped past clouds, stroking their gauzy tips with careful fingertips. I sped by stars and felt their icy coldness tingle through my skin and whirled around planets, dipping my toes into their swirling centers before soaring off again. I felt like a bird with bullets for wings. Wind pulled at my eyelids as we flew through space, and what felt like eternity. Finally, Peter pulled my hand towards a silver star with rainbowed clouds surrounding it. His impish face grinned at me as we blasted through the layers of cloud onto a silky, slippery, blue surface that tickled like glass below my feet. "We're standing on the sky, Wendy!" I got to my knees and peered through the sky. Below, there was a large body of water, and anchored next to a small island was…a…pirate ship! There was the Jolly Roger, flying bold as brass above a mast that looked rotten to its very core. A roguish bunch of pirates dressed in dirty rags that looked more like clownish costumes swept the dirty decks and buzzed about in some great rush, carelessly colliding with one another and swearing. Good heavens, I do not think mother would have wished me to be in such company.