Chapter One-
As children we all dream about a far away land when trivial things adults worry about can never bother us. The place where we never have to grow up. The one place which was immortalized by J.M Barrie in his wonderfully written play Peter Pan. But of course, as we grow up, we realise that this place is not real. As we age over the years, we start to question our own minds, our own life and even our imagination. Well, that's what is meant to happen. We are supposed to grow up and follow the natural path that is mapped out for us, but sometimes we come across someone who refuses to follow the rules of life. These people live in their own minds and chose to follow a path that is twisted and entwined with mystery and amazement. They are able to hold on to the pureness and innocence of childhood even though the world around them tries to suffocate any kind of happiness. Now, strangely, research has shown us that people like this are normally the ones who enjoy their careers, raise good mannered children and also the ones who fall in love. Of course, you say that everyone falls in love, not just this chosen few, but those people do not know real love. They are somehow unable to understand the feeling which is why it is normally misunderstood as hate or fear. Now, when asked, these people tell you that they have no idea why they are like it, but one person knows the secret. One specific person can tell the world the secret to true happiness and love, and she is willing to as well. I'm sure you are now asking why you do not know the secret, well, that is because she has been sworn to secrecy. She desperately wants to tell people about the secrets that she holds, but she faces a ghastly curse. The girl is unable to utter a single word. She weeps through the night in her own personal hell. She cries not only for her own muteness, but also for the human race. This tiny little girl had walked all over the world, seeing the poorness and hurt that was caused by her not being able to tell the secret. She had seen both great wars and watched as bombs blew up all the people she loved, but she was unable to die. She has stayed the size of a five year old for about one hundred and fifty years. Sadly, she cannot die until everyone knows her closely kept secret. How ironically terrible!
Anyway, I must keep on track with my story or else you will all get horribly bored and not even read my carefully written words! It starts with a little boy and his mother sitting in a big chair, reading a grand, old book.
"Come on mother! I want to know what happened to him!" a small boy clambered onto his mother's red satin chair which they always sat in when they read together.
"I'm coming darling, just, a bit tired..." his mother sighed and tried to catch her breath. She had only been walking up the wooden stairs, but now even that exhausted her. She knew that she did not have a lot of time left so she was determined to spend every second she could with her little boy. However, her illness was even preventing that.
"Mother! Are you sure your coming? Aren't you excited about the story?" she heard her son's soft voice. It brought tears to her eyes at the fact she may never hear that again in a few short months.
"Of course I am my darling, I'm just, trying to catch my breath..." she wheezed and coughed a few times before finally appearing in the doorway of the reading room. There she was greeted with the most beautiful sight she could ever dream of. Her little boy, soft white skin, blue sparking eyes, one simple dimple on his right cheek and curly blonde hair, tinted with darkening brown curls, sat in the red chair which seemed to be swallowing him as he was so tiny.
"Oh Peter..." she whispered as he beamed at her and held up the book to his loving mother. She carefully picked him up and sat in the chair herself, placing her son on her lap and balancing the huge book on the arm of the chair. "Now, can you remember where we were?"
"Yes, chapter three, the flight into Never land!" Peter cried. His mother sighed and went to the page he had directed. She had to be careful as the book was extremely old and starting to fall apart at the sides. Of course, that could be expected though as the book was over a hundred years old and had been passed down in the family from generation to generation. It was a tradition in her family and as every person had only been able to bear one child each generation; there were no arguments to who would get it.
"Right, here we go!" the woman smiled as her five year old clapped his hands. "Wendy, Michael and John were amazed at the journey..." as she read aloud, the mother thought back to her late husband, George. He was a soldier and had been called out to do a mission in an undiscovered land. She was told three months after he left that he was missing. At the time, Peter was only a few months old and her condition was getting worse by the second. Then the news finally came on Peter's first birthday. Two soldiers came to the house and announced that George Panterra had been killed and they had found his body. Peter, just a little baby, was the first to start crying, as if he understood what was going on. His IQ was extremely high already, even though he was so young. Ever since then, she had noticed the pattern the recent deaths were forming. That was when she realised she was next. It was going to be soon as well, but then what would happen to her darling son? Perhaps she could change his name and then make sure they never took him to that place. She would be denying him a proper life though... she could never do that to her loving son. Even if it would eventually kill him.
"Mother? Are you listening? There's someone at the door!" Peter's little voice broke his mother's thoughts. She blinked rapidly and smiled at her son.
"Of course darling, I'm just going to get it. You stay here, you can read ahead if you wish to!" her son's eyes light up and he scrambled off of her lap to allow her to surpass him. She kept her smile up until she was out of sight. She already knew who was going to be at the door...
The stairs once again made her breathless, but she answered the door with her head held high and proud.
"I knew you would be here soon." She spoke in a low voice.
"Ah, lovely to see you as well, Miss Panterra." Her guest said in a slimy voice.
"Oh come on, you know me, call me by my real name, no need for formalities now." Her voice was as if she were giving up.
"If that's what you wish, Mary, then I shall comply." Mary rolled her eyes.
"Enough with this okay!" her anger was now getting the best of her. "You are either here to take me or to expose my son to the place which is like a disease."
"What on earth do you mean Mary?" the guest was puzzled now.
"Don't tell me you haven't worked it out. Every person that you take there ends up like this." She gestured towards herself.
"But the wonders of it makes everything good again, doesn't it?" the man asked, a little bit scared himself now.
"Well, we are the chosen few; we are made to see the good in things. It is everything we are, but all of those wonders end up disappearing near the end." Mary gave a weak smile. "And I do not want my son to end up like this. I would not be able to bear that."
"I'm sorry Mary, but you can't make that decision. These orders came right from the top. She wants him there, back where he belongs."
"What do you mean? He belongs here with me! No-one stays there!" Mary suddenly closed her mouth and gaped.
"Working it out misses?" asked the man.
"No, you can't mean... He's not... he can't be..." she whispered.
"His name's Peter isn't it?" she nodded at the question. "Smart kid right?" another nod. "And cute as a button?"
"Yes, yes of course, but there are lots of children out there like him!"
"Yeah, but he's got the blood hasn't he! And the imagination..." Mary clenched her eyes tight.
"I am not losing my son!" she whispered with venom in her voice.
"YOU don't have a choice mam! Now if you mind, I shall be taking him now. The skies are going to be dark soon and I hate being in this form." He gestured to himself.
"I don't care, turn back into your pixie form and go back there, he is not going!" Mary felt the tears fall down her red cheeks. "I have already lost my husband; I am not losing my son as well!"
"Mother? Is everything alright?" a small voice broke her angry rant at the pixie, stretched into a human.
"Of course it is darling, go back up stairs; I'll be back in a second."
"Who are you?" Peter quizzically asked the strange man in his door way.
"My name is Alis. It is Latin, you know." Alis smiled at the little boy.
"Yes, I know, it means something to do with flying, doesn't it?" the two adults marvelled at the supreme knowledge of the five year old.
"Why yes, it does. Aren't you a smart young boy?" Alis walked over to him and patted the boy's curls.
"He gets it from his father." Mary said curtly.
"Of course he does," Alis had stopped paying attention at this point. "Now Peter, how would you like to come on a trip with me?"
"No, he's too busy and it is almost bed time, isn't that right Peter?" Mary interjected.
"Ah, but I will get him back before you could even imagine he was gone, I promise you." Alis stared at the disobedient woman.
"But I don't want him going with a stranger." Mary spat.
"You know I am not a stranger. I'm his uncle." Alis smiled.
"An uncle, I've never had an uncle before!" Peter whispered.
"You still haven't darling, this man is no relative of ours, just..." Mary searched for a good way to explain it to her son. "An old friend of mine." Not very true, but it would work.
"Can I go with him, please mother? I would like to see what the fuss is all about!" Peter begged.
"Maybe another night, tonight we are reading, aren't we darling?" Mary hated lying to her son, but it was the only way she could protect him.
"Okay then." Peter knew when to give up at least. "I'll go and get ready for bed. Goodbye Mr. Alis!" he waved as he clambered back upstairs.
"You have made a huge mistake Mary." Alis whispered so the child could not hear.
"I don't care. There is no way you will ever be able to get him Alis. I love him too much!"
"Fine then. Goodbye Miss Panterra." Alis was smiling as he backed out of the door. Mary closed it and gasped with relief as she fell against the wooden boards of the grand door.
"Peter darling, get ready I'm on my way up stairs!" she called as she made the strenuous journey back up the stair case.
As she reached the reading room, Mary peeked in the door to check what her son was doing. A soft smile rose to her lips as she saw him standing on the window seat with a pencil pretending it was a sword. He was yelling at the empty space ahead of him to 'Move away or I shall run you through you scurvy dogs!' and that they should 'Stay away from my Wendy!' that made the young mothers heart stop. Peter did not know anyone called Wendy. Did he make the name up? Does he already know his heritage? He couldn't. No-one had figured it out before their trip to never land on their seventh birthday. But he was special. He had been called two years early by her. Perhaps Alis was right. Perhaps, her little boy was the one who could make this whole thing stop and finally break the bond between our world and theirs. Perhaps, he was the one they had been waiting for...