It was your average day in modern day London. People flooded the streets, on bikes and foot, going anywhere and everywhere. The spring sun peaked over Big
Ben, creating a picture perfect image for those who stood directly in front of the tower. It almost seemed as though a heaven stood just beyond the beauties of the
structure. Little did anyone know, except for few, that some sort of heaven did exist past the sight of Big Ben, and could be seen by the eye every day, shining brighter
than the most luminous star in the dark array of night. Some say that the second star to the right held a wonderland so magnificent, that it could stop time the moment
you entered the vortex on your way there. However, the story of the far away land merely stands a fairy tale for the people of this city. It was a myth.
I for certain did not believe in this tale that my mother told me and my siblings about. There was no scientific explanation backing up how it could be possible.
Even if there were, I wouldn't believe it. It's ridiculous, just used to encourage imagination for a young child's mind. Sadly, I was stupid enough to be one of those
children who believed in it. Thankfully, I came to reality when I was 10 that it wasn't true. On the contrary, some days I dream of this land, of the fairies, and mythical
creatures that put color to the picture of it. Basically anything from there that brings my mind peace. Other nights, I dreamed of the pirates, and the dangers of the
forest. Those normally ended with me waking up screaming. Maybe I was terrified of ever believing in something that could cause me so much mental pain. Who would
know?
"Evelyn Roe Marshall! What are you doing just sitting there? I told you to wash the floor!" Yes. My mother did tell me that. Was I going to do it? Maybe later…
I closed my eyes, letting the vocals of Brent Smith fill my ears, singing Shinedown's famous song 'Second Chance.' My mum glares at me from the frame of my
doorway, shaking her head, muttering something about my generation being so lazy. I hated it when adults spoke badly of my time. Are we seriously that different? Or
are you just seeing it through the eyes of your parents now? Their ideas of you are now yours on us. It's quite pathetic.
Fiddling with my black ipod, I stand up, stretching my back until I heard a pop. Felt good. Yep. "I'm doing it!"
Oddly enough, I didn't have a British accent. Perhaps it is because my father, Daniel Marshall, is from the States. That can happen, right? Heh, must be. I don't
sound like these lagoonies. I've visited the States before, I liked it a lot better than this plain, boring place. We're expected to have manners because of our
background, courteous ancestors. Clearly, my group doesn't believe in it. Most of the kids in my class go out partying, and wearing provocative clothing. Am I a part of
that? Duh. Who wouldn't? It's fun. Living it loose is better than uptight and proper. I'd honestly choose the life of a partyoholic over an old school girl who wears
dresses, lifts her pinky when drinking tea (which I don't), and squeals at mice. Really? It's a little rodent with a tail and is one millionth of your size. Nothing scary.
Maybe we are wrong. But in my great-great-grandmother's time, they lived life off of hoping that fairy tales were true, and that's what motivated them daily. For
example, that the fairies from the majestic land came and changed the seasons. Putting certain animals into hibernation, waking them up at the end of winter.
Changing the colors of the trees, sprouting the flowers in May. It was almost like they controlled our lives here. But thing is, why do this for another world? That's what
I couldn't understand. Now I do. My theory is that they simply enjoyed doing it. Either that, or it was their job that Mother Nature sent them to do. Ugh, now I sound
like a kid.
It took me not so long to clean the floors in the bathroom, kitchen, and hallways. By that time, it was 7:00, and my mum was setting up dinner for her, my father,
my brothers, sister, and I. We always ended the day with big meals, my mother believed that we were too tiny to continue on having small meals like other families
around us. We needed to sit on our calories so that we maintained a healthy weight. Like it did could do anything to my brother Rowan, he had the fastest metabolism
in the family, right after me of course. Nothing could touch either of us, we were pretty active. Although, I'm sure if we weren't, nothing would happen anyways.
"What's for dinndinn, mum?" A quirky grin settles between my rosy cheeks, my stomach rumbles a little.
"Spaghetti, darling. Call the boys and Annya, will you? Your father just got off work and is coming home." Her voice is gentle, clearly meaning something is up. She
never speaks gently unless there is something going on. Sad, huh? Now that I think of it, she didn't look to happy earlier either.
I skip down the hall to Rowan's and Uriah's room, sticking my head in the door to see them playing COD. "Food's ready, dorks. Come out of your rat den." Their
room was quite raunchy, it needed a good cleaning. "In a minute Lynny!" I growled at that nickname, I despise it greatly. Not a second later, I was peaking into
Annya's room. Honestly, just looking at our rooms, you could tell we were completely opposite. She was into pink, barbies, and obviously, One Direction. It made me
throw up in my mouth at the sight of the cut out of Harry Styles. Boy, did I hate that band. Too preppy. My room was polar in a way that I favored black, and loved
motorcycles, as well as preferred bands that had a better taste of music. AKA from rock to death metal. That was me.
I started playing with the strands of my straight black hair, making an awkward face. "We have food on our plates. Now lets go." I attempted to sound like Peter
Griffin from Family Guy. Epic fail. Annya looks up at me from the floor, where her makeup kit sat in front of her. She was trying to do her makeup again. Tsk tsk. "Okay."
Her voice irritated me profoundly. Sooo girly. Bleh.
~Two hours later~
My Nightmare Before Christmas shirt fit like a glove as I slid it on, hugging me in the good places, as well as my skeleton pajama bottoms that I got from the
States. Turning on the sink, I pull out my tooth brush from the cup to the right side of the faucet, as well as the toothpaste tube from the cabinet right in front of me. I
proceed to brush my teeth, loving the instant burn of the strong peppermint intrude my mouth that still lingered in flavor of the spaghetti and sauce I had earlier. Lyrics
flooded my brain, causing me to sway slowly from side to side. The apartment was quiet, everyone else was in bed in the building except for me. I look at myself in the
large mirror that obtained most of the wall. In a way, I felt connected to the mirror, I grew up watching myself, all 15 years. From not being able to see the tip of my
hair, to see my whole self.
I smile to myself, spitting out the foaming toothpaste, and replaying it with mouthwash. Suddenly, there was a bump on the roof. A few bumps followed, as well as
mumbling voices. I spit out my mouthwash, my heart started to beat louder into my ears as well as the feeling of curious butterflies create a mosh pit in my stomach.
What the..? I head out of the bathroom quietly, yet quickly. entering my room. Closing the door behind me, I listen closely for the noises again. It was quiet. Too quiet
for what I had just heard. A chill rattles up my spine, and I clench my fists, my gut dropping when I see my window wide open. I never opened it before hand. With my
heart beat still pounding hard, I creep to the window, back slightly arched. On the way, I grab hold of my pocket knife, sliding it in my pocket.
I touch one of the shutters, but pull my hand back at the cold. Confusion crosses over my face as I close the shutters, exhaling with my eyes closed. Nothing to
fear. I catch my breath in a thoughtless heave when I hear something move behind me. My body starts to shake, and I reach for my pocket knife. I swiftly pull it out as
I turn around, to see three strangers in my room, all dressed up as pirates. The one in the middle who wore a captain's hat, and a red cloak smiled sickly at me. "Hello,
my dear." His voice choked me of making any noise, I looked like a deer in the sight of headlights.
"Stay back!" I managed to say, pointing my knife at them, doing a poor defense stance. The man chuckles, playing with the black stache upon his face, he takes
a step forward with the other two. "Get her, men." After his words were said, the world went black for me. The last I could distinguish of my surroundings was his
maniac-like laughing.
~her dream~
The world turned a dark blue as I stepped onto the beach of the majestic land known as Neverland. The air was crisp, scratching at my face with each gust thrown at
me. My eyes widened in amazement. The trees were all a healthy dark green, but were huge. Probably could beat the sizes of the trees at the Redwood Forest in California, my
dad's original home before he moved to London. I've never been there, but I wish I could. Oh, I wished I could.
I was barefooted, so I could feel the pure white sand between my toes, bringing me to memories of when I was younger, when my family and I had gone to Barafundle
Bay Beach. I always loved beaches, it made me feel like that little girl with those bright blue eyes and silly, happy smile. That girl had died, and was replaced with what was
now considered as me.
The forest was overloading my brain completely with it's beauty and stunning appearance. However, my gawkingness was diminished when the ground below my feet
started to rumble, the noise of an angry creature filling my ears. Without a second thought, I ran. I knew the beast was on my trail when I heard those large trees I was
admiring became one with the dirt that it was once connected to. Tears filled my eyes, my pace speeding up as the creature got closer, and closer. Taking a quick glance behind
me, I saw that it was a good 40 feet behind me. It was a large croc, bigger than a bloody mammoth!
My heart raced and raced, and I knew it in my heart that I was going to die, that I wouldn't make it out alive, wherever I was. The beast managed to be just behind my
feet now, snapping it's jaws and roaring. This is it. I thought to myself. This is the end. Out of nowhere, something flew over my head, and the sound of agony emerged from
the beast. I continued to run, only daring to catch a glimpse when I was a good hundred yards away. It was a boy that stopped that beast. I stopped running and starred.
It was Pan.