I look around cautiously; I creep lightly down the trunk of a massive tree. My breathe comes in short and soft, my heartbeats hard and fast in a panicky little dance. A light wind stirrers the braches, ruffling my tangled locks, I turn in fear thinking that I heard his laughter but I see nothing and hear nothing. I turn back to the front and start running again as quickly and quietly as possible. The branches' brimming with thick leaves conceal the sky, animals and could conceal him. A root sends me sprawling on the forest floor. White-hot pain shots through my leg starting at my ankle, twisted. I curse myself for not being careful enough. I stand shakily dusting the dirt and grim from myself as I examine my surroundings. The clearing is ringed with tall trees, yellow-brown grass stained crimson under a full blood moon. The silhouette of a certain flying boy flickers across the light of the moon, making me realize my efforts have been in vain. He lands in the middle of the circular clearing with his back to me. I can barely breath, his brownish-blonde hair and tanned skin glows an unnatural red.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," he says in his melodic voice, "Is this just a game to you? Because it is to me, and it's a very fun game." He turns all the way around to look straight at me. His maniacal smile sends fear shooting through me my mind telling me to run, but his cold and calculating stare keeps me rooted to the spot in horror. This is Peter Pan. He is not the boy that leads the Lost Boys and has a little pixie friend following him. He kidnaps innocent boys and girls, takes them to Neverland, and tries to kill them. Everything is a game to him the more dangerous and more difficult, the more fun it is for him. The worst part is that you know you will never get back to your home, to your family, that you will die one way or another and very, very painfully.

Peter opens his mouth a high-pitched laugh emits from it. I shiver as a cold and damp wind blows from behind me. He sniffs loudly and says, "I know where you are. So why not come and play with me, please." I watch in utter terror as he walks towards me then he stops, I blink once very slowly, and he is gone with out a trace. Oh no, where did he go? I ask myself. The wind blows carrying with it a strange and haunting melody yet it is so inviting. I start to climb; I have no control over my body anymore. The panpipe's song gets louder and faster, I climb even faster to find the source of the song. I begin to climb faster and faster nearer to the top of the trees, higher and higher towards the ink black sky, towards Peter Pan.

The song ends just as I reach the top of the tree, looking all around for Pan but seeing no sign of him anywhere. A cold, iron grip hand wraps around my ankle. A high-pitched scream escapes my mouth, I kick and squirm but this only seems to annoy the boy. Therefore, in retaliation, he yanks my ankle and I find myself free falling through the trees. Razor edged leaves cut and scratch at my exposed skin. My decent is stopped suddenly as it had begun; Pan catches my brindle style. I turn my head, he smiles manically, drops me and laughs as I begin to scream and fail about again in panic.

I must have been closer to the ground than I realized because I landed on my side after a few minutes of free falling. I propped myself on my elbows to recover my breathe and gather my beatings. My legs can hardly support me, but I stand anyway and look for Peter Pan. The hairs on the back of neck rise and a chill runs down spine signaling that someone is behind me. I turn ever so slowly around and come face to face with Peter. That scary little smirk graces his lips as he pulls out his dagger and my eyes widen with fear, I start to back up. I stop when my back is pressed against a tree and Pan approaching slowly with his knife in hand, so in other words I am trapped.

"You are mine now. I will feast on your flesh and blood. Yes, you will be mine." He whispers the last part and laughs in joy at the terror I feel, which must be evident on my face. He plunges the knife into my heart and the last thing I see is his laughing face.


I wake up with a dirty, rough hand clasped firmly over my mouth, effectively muffling my screams. His cold and calculating green eyes bore into mine. He smiles and laughs. That is when I know the nightmare has only just begun.


A/N: Reveiw please, I would be grateful. And if you like this please check out my other story, Savior of Fantasy in the Disney section.