Blue. Red. Orange. Indigo. Yellow. Green. Gold. Silver. Colors are swirling around me. Wind is slicing my skin in all directions. I feel like I entered a wind tunnel or a kaleidoscope. I feel sick. I feel… words can't describe this feeling. Like my entire being has just stopped. I really hate flying.
"Peter!" I call out. "Tinkerbell!" The Fairy dust smells sweet and earthy. A loud crack and I'm plummeting into a grassy field. "Happy thoughts. Happy frickin' thoughts!" I shut my eyes Inches away from hitting the ground then…nothing. I slowly open my eyes, "HA!" I lose that happy thought and slam into the ground getting a mouthful of grass.
"Moo! Moo!" A tiny voice yells from behind a boulder. "Wha-?" I spit out the grass and stand up, dusting off my jeans and sweater. "Who's there?" I yell out. There's snickering before, "Mooooo! You fat cow!" More Snickering. I widen my eyes angry; I pick up a rock the size of my fist and chuck it over the boulder. Choruses of groans reply to the hit. "Isn't so funny now is it? Get out from behind that boulder. Now!" I order. Slowly, two little boys the ages 7 to 5 come out looking guilty and puppy dog like.
They stand formally, looking at their feet. "Are you going to discipline us?" Asks the younger one; he looks like Peter with dark mahogany curls and rounder eyes. Suddenly the older one looks at me, happy and excited, "YOU'RE A GIRL!" uh, last time I checked I was.
They swarm me and tug on my messenger back, my sweater and my sleeves happily. "Are you going to be our mother!" They squeal happily. I try to push their happy hands away trying to talk over their squeals. The older one looks Greek. He claps, "We haven't had a mother for so long! Did you bring new stories?" I look down at their expecting faces, "I-I…" I stammer.
"Mothers, we don't need another mother." A deeper voice says somewhere in the tall grass. The older boy looks off in a direction of the deeper voice, "Yes we do!" He whines. The voice, angry, "Mothers leave. They are adults. Adults here are all pirates." I look too, "Well, look at me. Do I look like a pirate to you?" I say sarcastically. A dark head with red skunk stripes pop up. His dark eyes are set in tan skin. His eyes rake me from my shoes to finally my face. My face reddens a bit when he looks directly into my eyes.
His eyes somehow soften but still look at me critically, when it strikes me. How familiar he looks. I'll refer back to the sketchbook in my messenger. "You… do not." I quietly analyze him; he's cocky from how he holds his chin up. "Even though you aren't a pirate, you're still a girl." I roll my eyes. "Rufio!" A familiar, annoyingly, familiar voice yells out into the trees off to the side. I cross my arms across my chest.
~A red headed gangly figure bursts through the thicket. Clad in green tunic and bark trousers I see the oh-so-heroic Peter. "RUTHIE!" He breathes a sigh of relief and joy. His eyes are shining when he jumps in the air but doesn't land. He flies toward me, like he's laying down, his face propped on his hands. He grins triumphantly at me. "Glad you could make it."
I glare into his eyes. "I hope you weren't hoping on me being your mother." Peter frowns, landing so he stands in front of me, towering over me. "But will you tell us stories and mend our clothes?" I give him a look but because Peter and I go back, I reply, "Depends." Peter smiles widely, hug me tight and crows loudly into the air.
Everyone looks happy I note, except Rufio. He's looking off, his face crumpled up like his mind was working over a problem.
This must be some signal or something because more than a dozen heads pop up from around us and crow happily. "MOTHER!" They scream. What have I gotten myself into?