Well I managed to get the second chapter up much faster than I'd thought! That was a productive history class ;) anyhow, the others will be up soon. As always, rate, review, and enjoy! :)
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My head snaps to the right instinctively, but nothing is there. I squint and move closer, and a pair of green eyes pops up above my windowsill. I gasp at the sudden motion and they disappear again. "Is someone there?" I ask, inching toward the open window. "Yes" replies the voice, cautiously, and the green eyes reappear following a wild mass of blonde curls. "You can come out, I won't hurt you" I whisper. The eyes become a face that rises until I see, framed in the window with dogwood twigs in his hair, a boy.
Common sense would dictate, of course, that when a strange boy shows up in your bedroom window, you don't move closer, but I couldn't help it. He was beautiful, wild and unkempt, but with such a spirit in his smile that even the Southern sunset looked dulled.
"What is your name?" I ask the strange boy, as he steps down from my window seat and begins to look around my room. "Peter", the stranger replies, without looking up from my bookcase, "Peter Pan". A thrill races through me as I remember the nights spent wishing by my window on the star for the impossible. Quickly, I also remember my manners and curtsy. "It is lovely to meet you, Peter", I say as politely as I can, and the boy grins. He turns back to the trinkets in my room and I take the opportunity to study him.
He is tall, with the trademark blonde mess and skin naturally the shade models pay thousands for. It is obvious he is close to my age, but with a distinctly boyish light about his whole person. Though he is handsome, and aware of it, it is a child's pride he possesses, and I cannot be offended by it.
Suddenly Peter grins and leaps up to the windowsill. I rush after him, "Surely you're not leaving?" He only just arrived...he cannot leave. "Of course not" He replies imperiously, and plants two fists on his hips, "you are to learn how to fly." I gasp like a delighted child. "To fly! Oh yes please, Peter!" Despite himself, the boy grins and retrieves a handful of fairy dust from his pocket. "Now hold still," Peter says, concentrating, "or it won't work right."
I squeeze my eyes shut as he sprinkles the dust over my hair. When I look again, I have risen two feet off my floor! I giggle and smile until my mouth hurts, but then I hear a sound that brings me to the ground again.
My doorbell has rung, and the voice of a very polite young man floats through my bedroom door.