~Hello everyone, welcome to my story!! It's based more upon the
ending of the movie than it is the ending of the book, as you can probably
tell, but I'm trying to write it with some of the same style as the book.
Hope you enjoy reading it, please r&r!~
Disclaimer: The characters and story idea from Peter Pan aren't my own ideas. My own characters, Maggie and Percy, are my own inventions but are based upon the characters from the original Peter Pan.
~*~*~*~
Every child knows that there is a place out there where their adventures, their desires and dreams, all come true. Every child has a Neverland that is both like and unlike the others; every child dreams of dangers and quarrels, of fights and magic, and of grand adventures. The children of this story are no exception, of course; right then, Maggie and David were expressing their own glimpse of Neverland in just a classic child's way.
"Have at thee!" Maggie made a jab with the chair leg she was using as a sword. David ducked and jumped off the end of the bed, turning to parry another thrust with the stick he had grabbed on his way in the house.
"Villainous scum! Down with thee!" David cried back and threw back his head to holler as loud as his vocal cords would let him. He bobbed a hand over his mouth and hummed an Indian dirge as he dodged his sister's attack. "Back, ye wicked pirate! Ay ay ay ay ay!"
Maggie threw away the chair leg and dived at her brother, knocking them both into a tray table that their mother had set up with lunch. Sandwiches and milk spilled all across the carpet; a plastic cup struck David in the head and he instinctively lashed out at Maggie, who was spluttering up milk and, in turn, pinched his arm, shouting,
"Why, you great trickster, you! Get over here and let me pound ya'!"
"Maggie!" Both of them froze, and it was quite a comical sight that their mother looked upon as she stood in the doorway of the small bedroom. Her children looked up guiltily from where they were sprawled across the floor; the tray table was flipped over on its side and there were bits of turkey in Maggie's hair. Both were covered from head to foot in milk and flecks of chips. Not to mention, of course, the darnable state of the carpet and the edge of Maggie's bed. Mother hid a chuckle and put her hands on her hips sternly. "What great violent language you use, dear," she reprimanded her daughter gently, and Maggie hung her head, but just for a moment.
"But Mother," she argued an instant later, her patched dress fluttering about her knees as she hopped to her feet and upset the tray table even more, "the pirates are fighting the Indians!"
"Not again," their mother groaned, and both laughed. The laughter of children is always like the tinkling of merry little bells, innocent and carefree, little humors appealing to them that are all their own. "I thought the pirates already took care of the Indians last time!"
David was quick to retort, "Not the pirates, Mother, the Indians won the last time!"
Maggie stuck her tongue out at him and immediately protested, "But that was only because the Indians cheated and threatened to destroy the pirates' Mr. Snuggles." She pulled a ratty old teddy bear off the bed and hugged it to her, glaring at her brother over its head.
"And how is threatening him cheating? It's right fair to threaten!"
"Children," Mother said, and that was the end of the argument.
The mess was cleaned up and fresh sandwiches were made; the children had to eat these in the confinement of the tiny kitchen that was located at the top of a long, narrow flight of steps. The apartment was rather a small one, and there were only two bedrooms, a kitchen, a chipping, little bathroom, and a family room with only two chairs and a table, but it was all they needed. In fact, it was all they had ever really known, and they had never minded it that way. Maggie and David were perfectly happy where they lived; this was why they never played at being Kings and Queens, for they knew that to have a lot of money would be to have a great deal of responsibility, and responsibility limits freedom, as we all learn fast when we become young men and women, and grow into adulthood.
Maggie slurped her milk and David blew air through the straw in his cup, making the liquid bubble so that both laughed. "Mother's getting worried," Maggie whispered knowingly to David, glancing over her shoulder secretively before she said it. She always felt terribly important when she whispered something to her brother, something that she had figured out all on her own. She waited, hoping he would ask how she knew; she thought herself quite the clever one for figuring this out.
"How do you know?" David whispered, falling right for it.
"Because," Maggie replied, after another outrageously obvious look at the kitchen entrance, "she's all tensed up again. She keeps checking on us in the room, she doesn't eat much anymore, she reads our bedtime stories real fast, and-" Maggie lowered her voice even more, "she refuses to talk to us about Daddy."
David nodded wisely. "That means she's upset over something. Maybe she lost her job."
Maggie nodded gravely in return; it was quite a funny sight to see, both children leaning on their elbows across their plates to whisper amongst each other, wearing such expressions as adults might when confronting a table stacked with bills. "When Daddy left us, she got so much more sad. I miss Mommy being happy." David nodded his agreement.
Further discussion was interrupted when their mother swept into the kitchen and smiled at them both. "Finished?" she asked as they fell backwards in their seats and tried to look innocent. She swept away the dishes and they raced off to play again; the tray table had been removed, the carpet cleaned and swept, and the cat was sleeping on the stomach of Mr. Snuggles, guarding him from further attacks by the Indians.
*********
"Mother," Maggie said softly as they were tucked into bed, "where does the sun go at nighttime?"
Mother laughed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "The sun goes to the magical place that you have all your adventures in, and it has adventures of its own."
David wrinkled his nose. "Mother, that's just silly! How can the sun have adventures? It's quite big for adventures, isn't it?"
"You're silly if you think that," Maggie said quickly, before their mother could say anything upon the matter. David glared at her and crossed his arms defiantly. "The sun isn't big; if you hold up a button real close to your eye and look past it, it covers up the sun. That means it's not real big at all." She looked to her mother for support. "Aren't I right, Mother?"
"Oh darling," their mother chuckled, and switched off the lights. "Good night, my children, sleep well." And she closed the door.
Now, everyone knows that children, though playing in a fantasy all day long, do fear the nighttime and the darkness, and that adventures at night are quite a bit scarier than those at daytime. But these two particular children did not have little nightlights upon their wall, for their mother could not quite afford them yet. And so they were forced to hunker down underneath the covers and whisper to one another for comfort until sleep took them and carried them off to have wonderful dreams filled with danger and adventure, and the Neverland.
"Do you think we could ever go to Neverland?" David whispered to Maggie as they were settling into sleep.
Now Maggie had not heard the Neverland mentioned in so long a time as she was beginning to forget what it was, that it was the magical land that they always traveled to in their adventures, but she remembered eagerly enough. "The Neverland? Of course we can go there, if we believe it enough. Don't you think so? I think we go there in our dreams, that's why Mommy leaves the window open sometimes." They both glanced at the small, square window located on the far wall; it looked very dark, so much darker than their own room, and no moonlight hit it, for the moon was hidden behind the church across the street at the moment. A small, solemn breeze blew through it and ruffled their hair slightly.
"I'm scared to go there," David said. He did not mean the Neverland, however; he meant through the window, into that black darkness. "Do you think Peter Pan meant to leave when he did? I dearly wish that he had stayed in the Neverland to look after the children there and to fight off all the evil pirates." He bared his teeth in the darkness fiercely.
"Yes, David, because sooner or later, he had to grow up," Maggie said matter-of-factly. "Peter Pan had all kinds of adventures but he got bored with being a child, just like we got bored of eating Raisin Bran for breakfast every morning, remember? He thought it would be quite an adventure to be a grown up for a change. So he left the Neverland, and once you leave and become grown up, you can't go back."
Her brother, who was a few years younger and thus hung upon her every word, as younger siblings tend to do, buried his face in his pillow and replied in a muffled voice, "But I don't want to be grown up. I want to have adventures and beat all the pirates."
Maggie laughed softly at her brother's own innocence, though she was not much older than he and therefore did not know much more. However, she replied in a rather knowing way, as older siblings tend to do, "You have to grow up sooner or later, David. But I wish we could go to the Neverland as grown ups."
They both sighed, the happy little sighs of children falling into sleep, and rolled over on their pillows. Their eyes closed and the nighttime fears were swept away by dreamy unconsciousness.
The moonlight crept through the window and shone upon their innocent little faces. The stars winked at it in reprimand and it softened its gaze so as not to waken them. Maggie sniffled and David rolled over, and both slept on, even as the moonlight in the window was obscured and cut off by a new form.
Disclaimer: The characters and story idea from Peter Pan aren't my own ideas. My own characters, Maggie and Percy, are my own inventions but are based upon the characters from the original Peter Pan.
~*~*~*~
Every child knows that there is a place out there where their adventures, their desires and dreams, all come true. Every child has a Neverland that is both like and unlike the others; every child dreams of dangers and quarrels, of fights and magic, and of grand adventures. The children of this story are no exception, of course; right then, Maggie and David were expressing their own glimpse of Neverland in just a classic child's way.
"Have at thee!" Maggie made a jab with the chair leg she was using as a sword. David ducked and jumped off the end of the bed, turning to parry another thrust with the stick he had grabbed on his way in the house.
"Villainous scum! Down with thee!" David cried back and threw back his head to holler as loud as his vocal cords would let him. He bobbed a hand over his mouth and hummed an Indian dirge as he dodged his sister's attack. "Back, ye wicked pirate! Ay ay ay ay ay!"
Maggie threw away the chair leg and dived at her brother, knocking them both into a tray table that their mother had set up with lunch. Sandwiches and milk spilled all across the carpet; a plastic cup struck David in the head and he instinctively lashed out at Maggie, who was spluttering up milk and, in turn, pinched his arm, shouting,
"Why, you great trickster, you! Get over here and let me pound ya'!"
"Maggie!" Both of them froze, and it was quite a comical sight that their mother looked upon as she stood in the doorway of the small bedroom. Her children looked up guiltily from where they were sprawled across the floor; the tray table was flipped over on its side and there were bits of turkey in Maggie's hair. Both were covered from head to foot in milk and flecks of chips. Not to mention, of course, the darnable state of the carpet and the edge of Maggie's bed. Mother hid a chuckle and put her hands on her hips sternly. "What great violent language you use, dear," she reprimanded her daughter gently, and Maggie hung her head, but just for a moment.
"But Mother," she argued an instant later, her patched dress fluttering about her knees as she hopped to her feet and upset the tray table even more, "the pirates are fighting the Indians!"
"Not again," their mother groaned, and both laughed. The laughter of children is always like the tinkling of merry little bells, innocent and carefree, little humors appealing to them that are all their own. "I thought the pirates already took care of the Indians last time!"
David was quick to retort, "Not the pirates, Mother, the Indians won the last time!"
Maggie stuck her tongue out at him and immediately protested, "But that was only because the Indians cheated and threatened to destroy the pirates' Mr. Snuggles." She pulled a ratty old teddy bear off the bed and hugged it to her, glaring at her brother over its head.
"And how is threatening him cheating? It's right fair to threaten!"
"Children," Mother said, and that was the end of the argument.
The mess was cleaned up and fresh sandwiches were made; the children had to eat these in the confinement of the tiny kitchen that was located at the top of a long, narrow flight of steps. The apartment was rather a small one, and there were only two bedrooms, a kitchen, a chipping, little bathroom, and a family room with only two chairs and a table, but it was all they needed. In fact, it was all they had ever really known, and they had never minded it that way. Maggie and David were perfectly happy where they lived; this was why they never played at being Kings and Queens, for they knew that to have a lot of money would be to have a great deal of responsibility, and responsibility limits freedom, as we all learn fast when we become young men and women, and grow into adulthood.
Maggie slurped her milk and David blew air through the straw in his cup, making the liquid bubble so that both laughed. "Mother's getting worried," Maggie whispered knowingly to David, glancing over her shoulder secretively before she said it. She always felt terribly important when she whispered something to her brother, something that she had figured out all on her own. She waited, hoping he would ask how she knew; she thought herself quite the clever one for figuring this out.
"How do you know?" David whispered, falling right for it.
"Because," Maggie replied, after another outrageously obvious look at the kitchen entrance, "she's all tensed up again. She keeps checking on us in the room, she doesn't eat much anymore, she reads our bedtime stories real fast, and-" Maggie lowered her voice even more, "she refuses to talk to us about Daddy."
David nodded wisely. "That means she's upset over something. Maybe she lost her job."
Maggie nodded gravely in return; it was quite a funny sight to see, both children leaning on their elbows across their plates to whisper amongst each other, wearing such expressions as adults might when confronting a table stacked with bills. "When Daddy left us, she got so much more sad. I miss Mommy being happy." David nodded his agreement.
Further discussion was interrupted when their mother swept into the kitchen and smiled at them both. "Finished?" she asked as they fell backwards in their seats and tried to look innocent. She swept away the dishes and they raced off to play again; the tray table had been removed, the carpet cleaned and swept, and the cat was sleeping on the stomach of Mr. Snuggles, guarding him from further attacks by the Indians.
*********
"Mother," Maggie said softly as they were tucked into bed, "where does the sun go at nighttime?"
Mother laughed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "The sun goes to the magical place that you have all your adventures in, and it has adventures of its own."
David wrinkled his nose. "Mother, that's just silly! How can the sun have adventures? It's quite big for adventures, isn't it?"
"You're silly if you think that," Maggie said quickly, before their mother could say anything upon the matter. David glared at her and crossed his arms defiantly. "The sun isn't big; if you hold up a button real close to your eye and look past it, it covers up the sun. That means it's not real big at all." She looked to her mother for support. "Aren't I right, Mother?"
"Oh darling," their mother chuckled, and switched off the lights. "Good night, my children, sleep well." And she closed the door.
Now, everyone knows that children, though playing in a fantasy all day long, do fear the nighttime and the darkness, and that adventures at night are quite a bit scarier than those at daytime. But these two particular children did not have little nightlights upon their wall, for their mother could not quite afford them yet. And so they were forced to hunker down underneath the covers and whisper to one another for comfort until sleep took them and carried them off to have wonderful dreams filled with danger and adventure, and the Neverland.
"Do you think we could ever go to Neverland?" David whispered to Maggie as they were settling into sleep.
Now Maggie had not heard the Neverland mentioned in so long a time as she was beginning to forget what it was, that it was the magical land that they always traveled to in their adventures, but she remembered eagerly enough. "The Neverland? Of course we can go there, if we believe it enough. Don't you think so? I think we go there in our dreams, that's why Mommy leaves the window open sometimes." They both glanced at the small, square window located on the far wall; it looked very dark, so much darker than their own room, and no moonlight hit it, for the moon was hidden behind the church across the street at the moment. A small, solemn breeze blew through it and ruffled their hair slightly.
"I'm scared to go there," David said. He did not mean the Neverland, however; he meant through the window, into that black darkness. "Do you think Peter Pan meant to leave when he did? I dearly wish that he had stayed in the Neverland to look after the children there and to fight off all the evil pirates." He bared his teeth in the darkness fiercely.
"Yes, David, because sooner or later, he had to grow up," Maggie said matter-of-factly. "Peter Pan had all kinds of adventures but he got bored with being a child, just like we got bored of eating Raisin Bran for breakfast every morning, remember? He thought it would be quite an adventure to be a grown up for a change. So he left the Neverland, and once you leave and become grown up, you can't go back."
Her brother, who was a few years younger and thus hung upon her every word, as younger siblings tend to do, buried his face in his pillow and replied in a muffled voice, "But I don't want to be grown up. I want to have adventures and beat all the pirates."
Maggie laughed softly at her brother's own innocence, though she was not much older than he and therefore did not know much more. However, she replied in a rather knowing way, as older siblings tend to do, "You have to grow up sooner or later, David. But I wish we could go to the Neverland as grown ups."
They both sighed, the happy little sighs of children falling into sleep, and rolled over on their pillows. Their eyes closed and the nighttime fears were swept away by dreamy unconsciousness.
The moonlight crept through the window and shone upon their innocent little faces. The stars winked at it in reprimand and it softened its gaze so as not to waken them. Maggie sniffled and David rolled over, and both slept on, even as the moonlight in the window was obscured and cut off by a new form.