I was sat at my desk, finalising my drawing. I shaded in the corner of the pointed hat, trying to make the red feather that was stuck in it look as realistic as possible. I picked up the picture and admired it at arm's length.

Peter Pan.

I had always been told by her mother, Jane, that Peter Pan was a real person. I had been told stories of many of his tales since I was a little girl, that my mother had been told by my grandmother, Wendy. My mother told me stories of Neverland, the mermaids, the Indians and of course, Tinkerbell. My scrapbook was full of sketchy drawings of how I imagined all of these characters to be.

Tinkerbell was a small pixie, with short blonde hair and a tiny green dress. I always tried to draw a sparkly aura for her, but it never seemed to turn out right. The mermaids were beautiful girls who were constantly combing their hair, and the Indian princess Tiger Lily was a small girl with long black plaits and feathers in her hair.

I had an entire section in my sketchbook dedicated to what I thought Peter would look like. I, of course, only knew from what my mother had told me. He had copper hair, brown eyes and slightly pointed ears. I loved the idea that Peter was a real person, but there was a tiny section of doubt in my mind that knew it was all just child's play.

I left my drawings out on the desk, and slowly walked over and turned the light off. I crept over to my bed and pulled up the duvet, hugging it around me as I turned over and shut my eyes, breathing deeply as sleep began to take over me. In the middle of the night, I awoke with a start. I was sure I had turned off that lamp on my desk. Right? I quickly walked over to the main light and flicked it on - nobody was in the room. After deciding that I was obviously going completely crazy, I walked back over to the desk and piled all of my drawings back together - they seemed messier than I left them.

"Hey!" I quickly turned to the sound of the voice which just filled the silent room.

"And now I'm hearing things that don't exist." I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Oh dear."

"Hey!" Came the voice again. "I exist!"

I whirled back around, sure that I was no longer imagining things. My eyes searched the room and moved to rest on something that I could barely focus on. Now I was sure I was dreaming. Well, dreaming or utterly insane. I turned back around and rubbed my eyes with my thumb and finger, debating pinching myself to check this wasn't a dream. I turned again, and as sure as heck, stood before me was a young boy around the age of fourteen. My jaw dropped.

"But…you're…but…hey…you're…" I stammered, unable to get my sentence out.

"Think before you speak." replied the boy. "It's not hard. Peter Pan, nice to meet you." He smiled, holding out his hand for me to shake. As I stood, still gob smacked, he continued, "I must say, your drawings really are good. Although the Tink's hair is longer than you drew it. And her dress is shorter." He shook his head affectionately. As I was still open-mouthed, he took my hand and shook it for me, then lifted his finger to my chin and bought my lower jaw to my upper jaw. "And you must be…." He waited, tapping his fingers on his arm impatiently.

I snapped out of my trance and decided that if this was a dream, I may as well be polite. "Beatrice." I stuttered. "Although I prefer Bea."

"Bea it is then!" He smiled widely, clapping his hands together. This wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. Could it?