Hello! Long time no see! I'm really sorry about that! I have no excuse but making up one seems a lot worse. So, I'll just apologize. I'm sorry! Thank you for following while I've been gone. Thanks for favoriting! Both this story and GBtBL has been doing pretty good! Thanks!
I have the next few chapters planned so I promise, it won't be that long for another chapter! :)
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It was raining for the first time since I set foot on the island. I heard the rain pounding on the roof along with the strong thunder echoing through the trees. I looked around, hoping to find it empty but Peter had his back towards me, looking out the open door into the rain. I sat up and immediately regretted it when he turned around, almost surprised that I was there.
"Good Morning," he said, his mouth staying in a line. I don't know how he could even tell it was morning. It was darker than night.
"I'll be out of your hair in a minute." I pushed out of my blanket and stood on the cold floor before immediately folding it into a square. I wasn't sure why he had the door wide open, allowing the rain to seek shelter in the small house.
"It's fine. The rain isn't letting up." He said, lifting a tea cup to his mouth before turning back to the open door.
I frowned but understood. I could see the sheet of rain falling around the house. I could barely see my house through the water and it was only a few feet away. But I wanted to get out of here. He didn't want me here.
I dropped my blanket back onto his bed in a neat square and walked over to him. I looked out the door and noticed it was pointless to do so. Like my house, I couldn't see anything besides the darker color of the dirt ground and the trees. I couldn't even see the fire pit that no doubt, wasn't burning.
I turned away from him and the open door, and sat on the floor, against the wall. Peter closed the door and walked to the small table near the window and picked up a piece of parchment and what looked like a pencil. He walked back over to me and held out the cup. I took it from him, taking an appreciative sip. He took a seat across from me with his back against his bed.
The tea was delicious. It had flavor compared to the water that I had been drinking. It made this arrangement a little bit better.
"Thank you." I passed it back and he placed it next to him on the wood floor. He looked so relaxed. He was wearing new clothes, a black jacket and pants, and his hair was messily arranged. The rain must relax him.
"I don't get you, Peter," I said quietly.
He looked at me with a bit of confusion before raising his eyebrow. "The feeling is mutual."
I leaned against the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest. "You're a mystery."
"The feeling is still mutual," he said, drawing on the piece of parchment in his lap.
I smiled to myself. "Like Sherlock Holmes," I thought.
His confusion grew. "Who?"
Of course he wouldn't know who a major literary character was. "How old are you?" I asked. He might not tell me but I could hope.
"Too old for you."
I laughed quietly. "I'm asking for a friend. Are you twenty?"
He looked up from the paper and pursed his lips. Should he tell me? Should he keep it to himself?
"Older."
"Twenty five?" I guessed again.
"Older."
He couldn't be older than twenty five. "Thirty?"
"Older."
"Seventy?"
"Older."
I laughed again. "One thousand and four!"
"Almost."
I drew back. "Almost? You can't be that old!"
"I know," he said with a glint in his eyes. He was lying.
"You're older aren't you?" I asked, curious to whether that was older or younger.
"I'm a few centuries." His face was serious as he looked at me. It made me believe him. I didn't need a further argument. I just knew he was telling me the truth.
I could feel my eyes widen. "That's impossible!" I said mostly to myself despite believing him.
"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow at me. He resumed a good-natured attitude. "I can transport but not be that old."
I moved onto my knees and reached out in front of me. He looked at me curiously but didn't shy away until I touched his face. "Why are you touching my face?" He pulled away but didn't move out of reach.
I dragged my finger down his jaw. "You look so young." His skin was smooth. I doubt he needed to shave but I couldn't be sure. Despite never growing up, he still was a teenager. His hair on his head still grew. Right?
"The beauty of Neverland," he said softly against my hand.
I stopped touching him and resumed my place by the wall. "You've been on this island for a thousand years?" He had no wrinkles or other signs that he had been here that long. I knew he lived here long but a thousand years? I was guessing five years at most.
He nodded.
What about the other boys? "How old is Felix?"
"Not nearly that old. A century or two."
I tilted my head slightly. "You were alone for centuries?" I didn't think I would feel sorry for him but I couldn't help it.
He shrugged. "The best part about being alone is you have no one to answer to."
I narrowed my eyes. "Is that the ideal that makes you think you own the island?"
He gave me his smug grin. "I created this island, darling."
"And how did you do that?"
His grin widened. "I'll never tell."
"Are you happy alone?" I didn't mean to ask such a personal question. Asking for an age is one thing but his feelings are another.
His face morphed into something somber. "Are you?"
I heard my intake of breath. Was I alone? I was the only girl but I had my brothers. But did I? They had become their own persons here. They thrived here with the other boys. They finally had a home other than what they had found in our relatives'. Then they had each other. They were the Darling Boys. I was just Wendy.
Who did I have?
Long after the rain cleared and the real night had fallen, all the boys were sitting around the table I stood on. Some were sitting on the ground, others on the table next to mine. They all looked completely encased in the story I told them.
"Trolls stopped them in their path." I lifted my palm. "'Don't come closer!' They yelled to the kids. 'If you do, we'll eat you!'"
One of the smaller boys gasped in front of me and I had to fight a smile from surfacing.
"The kids couldn't turn back so they walked closer-" I paced the wooden table, making eye contact with a few of the boys. "-and closer."
"But when they reached the trolls-" I stepped off the table dramatically. They were all hanging onto each word. "The noticed the troll wasn't talking. It was a skeleton. It had worms in its eyes and maggots in its teeth."
It surprised me when a few boys yelled, "Ew!" They played in a forest all day with dirt and bugs but couldn't handle it in a story?
I leaned into the front row of boys. "But they heard a noise"
Their eyes widened. "The troll began moving and it ate the kids!"
The fire went out exactly when I said kids and a few screams came from my audience.
I looked over at Peter who had his hand over the now unlit fire. He looked at me with understand. He helped me out.
They started to clap and I bowed. "Thank you."
"Again! Again!" They chanted but I shook my head.
"Tomorrow," I said with a smile.
A round of cheers followed before they stood and chatted about the story.
Felix gave me a reassuring smile from next to Peter who had his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look defensive but the understanding had faded.
I walked up to the duo, Felix reaching out to squeeze my arm. "Look at you, capturing the masses." I instantly knew whatever ill feelings may have been there for a moment, had faded. He was proud that I had made an effort, and succeeded.
"No one had asked what skills I had. I am a great storyteller."
His smile widened at my boastfulness. "You are and you have just been granted the roll of storyteller. Peter plays music, you tell stories, and I relax."
I looked at Peter. After he suggested I was lonely, I couldn't think of anything else when I looked at him. He knew more about me than I felt comfortable with. He knew what I was feeling.
More than that, he looked sort of put off by Felix's words. He either didn't want me in their trio which was extremely plausible or he didn't like the fact that I was bonding with the boys. I had created a bond now between them and me even through one story.
Peter looked me up and down before walking away without a word.
After everyone had gone to sleep, I was still buzzing. Trying to find a place where I belonged on the island and almost succeeding has given me a renewed hope that if I was forced to stay, I had some redeeming quality.
I was wandering the forest, not too far from the camp but far enough that I felt solitude. I had no true purpose for walking but it was nice to feel the cool breeze and the forest was truly beautiful at night. It came alive. The sounds were like a faint music floating through the sky and giving the stars a sound to dance to.
Peter was acting strangely. He was fine when we were stuck in his house but when we went outside, it was as if I was the enemy. We had a secret friendship going on.
It was annoying.
I pushed past a few trees when I saw it. The glowing bulbs lining the treetops. I looked like Christmas lights but they were flowers. It was pixie dust.
I stepped closer to the trees. Whatever secrets the dust held are worth something on the island.
And I was going to find out just how much.
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