All Children Grow Up, Except One…
And I'll be damned if that one child didn't end up on my island! Well… I suppose I already am. Damned that is. I mean, it isn't exactly heaven to be writing from the inside of an oversized reptile named Hell, but at least that blasted ticking has stopped.
The children will be hearing of this for generations to come; of my humiliation and defeat by a mere boy. A stupid boy. A stupid flying boy. A stupid flying hypocrite boy. But I'm also sure the children won't be privy to THAT information either. Wendy always was on Pan's side and she'll be sure to weave some fantastical tale excluding the most crucial details. Hence, this little gem.
Ugh, this cursed lizard finds the most heinous of things to digest. Sitting here in his river of gastric juices, I have seen many a vile thing float by. I think I recognized one of my men once, but I had neither the strength nor the heart to make sure. However, a rather large bottle, cork included, did come drifting by. Perhaps there is a God, who cares about me even here. In Hell. It is in that bottle where I will conceal my gospel truth and allot it to find its way to the outside world through natural means, if you catch my drift. Pun intended.
I first met Pan on a rendezvous through the forest with my men. He was young, even younger than he is now. For a boy of six years (I guess), he was well versed in the English language and a book he called 'the Bible'. He was already rather cocky; possessing a holier-than-thou attitude that really put me off. He called himself a missionary from somewhere called Lexington Gardens, and his lexis was often littered with Thee's and Thou's which made him a bit more difficult to understand, but that I assume came from his precious book. 'Repent' was also a favored word of his, and one he hurled at me often. We met many times after that to discuss more of his 'theology' and 'doctrine', for despite his insufferable countenance, I was intrigued. He, however, became frustrated that I wasn't as receptive as his first group the Lost Boys. Originally, they had all fallen from their prams, were lost, and so fell into his care, but Pan the missionary had ulterior motives when bestowing this name. At times, we would go off on tangents and he would tell me how things were going with the LB's. Listening to him, I suspect that he forever thought of them as lost, never to be saved. They just couldn't seem to meet his standards of perfection. Poor boys, they followed him so blindly…if it counts for anything, I pray everyday that I sit in this gastric mess that they find salvation despite Pan's impossible standards.
In the end I ultimately rejected his theology, and in doing so I wounded his pride. He forever sought to destroy me after that, absorbed in some childish grudge against me. It began with throwing my hand to Hell (Who has sought me with animalistic fervor ever since) and persisted with turning the innocent minds of Wendy and her brothers against me.
But that part of the story is done and passed. I am now only a memory to Neverland and Hell has caught up with me. The days run together, and I don't know what day and night are anymore. Believe me if you will, for I have spoken no lie, but I promise it didn't only happen once upon a time.