13 May 1929
I write this on a beach at sunrise. It was Winter in England but it is Summer here. The sand sparkles, as though it had been created by someone who heard the phrase 'golden sands' and taken it too literally. I suppose it is the fairies being careless with their dust.
To my relief, Lady P. declined to stay, though I felt it was polite to ask her. I do not know how long I have been here (time works differently in Never Land) but it is pleasant to watch the crabs and birds and funny little crawly things. I even glimpsed a pair of mermaids. For the last week I have been nothing but impatience, but now I'm here it's disappeared. I will not seek Peter - I shall wait for him to come to me.
[later]
Peter forgets. I did not expect him to remember. We all have our flaws. Peter forgets and I grow - that's how it is. It's horrible but it's right. And now everything has gone terribly wrong. He has changed or I have forgotten, or both, or worse or I don't know...
Three of them came out of the woods together. I thought they must all be Lost Boys, even though the one in front stood like a leader (Slightly stood a bit like a leader too.)
"I am Wendy Moira Angela Tootles," I said, "take me to Peter Pan."
"I am Peter Pan," said the lead boy.
"No you are not." I said, noticing even as I did that he had Peter's skin, Peter's curls, Peter's eyes, Peter's little teeth. Yet he was not Peter, and I knew it.
"Oh yes I am," he said, laughing, as though he were at a pantomime.
More boys arrived - six or seven of them, and they all looked curiously at me. The smallest came forward, reached out his little hand and lightly touched my arm, then ran back to the others, grinning at his own bravery
"What is it, Peter?" He asked. "It is something like a Jane and something like a Pirate. Should we kill it, or will it be our mother?"
The boy they called Peter would not show his ignorance, so he turned away and said: "It is nothing of interest. It is only a mermaid without her tail. Come. I want to build canoes."
And then they left me.
Everything has gone terribly wrong.
May the... I do not know. Never Land is such a confusing place when it comes to time. I shall not write the date any more.
And I shall not allow myself to believe that I am mistaken or mad. The boy the people here call Peter Pan is not the boy I knew when I was a child - I know that in the same way that I know water is wet or love is good.
I feel lonely and afraid, but I am determined to find out what has happened
[Later - another day? It has certainly darkened and become light more.]
I confess that after I wrote the above all my resolution dissolved into tears - I wept and wept until exhaustion took me and I fell asleep.
I awoke suddenly to feel a rough pair of hands on my shoulders. I squirmed and kicked and screamed, but my assailant was much stronger than me, and once he'd clamped a hand over my mouth I was defenceless. He carried me easily across the sand.
"Quake with fear, Lady," was the first thing he said to me, but he didn't sound too sure about it. "For we be the meanest pirates that sailed the seven seas!" There was an uncomfortable silence, then, "Arrrrr," as a kind of afterthought.
Suddenly I recognised him. Smee! Smee had always been my favourite. I remember thinking he needed a mother just as much as Peter did. I began to laugh, but he must have misinterpreted my noises.
"Oh, please don't cry, Lady! The Cap'n's a Gentleman. I'm sure 'e won' hurt ye. I'd let ye go, only I promised 'im I'd bring 'im back a captive 'an the boys an' the Injuns are always too speedy for me."
We rounded a corner and I saw the ship moored in a natural harbour. A small pirate was cleaning the floor - swabbing the decks, I should say - but other than that it was deserted. He looked up curiously as Smee gently threw me into a small chamber which he then locked with a loud, "take that!" presumably for the other pirate's benefit, and a quiet, "sorry," presumably for mine.
I write this on a beach at sunrise. It was Winter in England but it is Summer here. The sand sparkles, as though it had been created by someone who heard the phrase 'golden sands' and taken it too literally. I suppose it is the fairies being careless with their dust.
To my relief, Lady P. declined to stay, though I felt it was polite to ask her. I do not know how long I have been here (time works differently in Never Land) but it is pleasant to watch the crabs and birds and funny little crawly things. I even glimpsed a pair of mermaids. For the last week I have been nothing but impatience, but now I'm here it's disappeared. I will not seek Peter - I shall wait for him to come to me.
[later]
Peter forgets. I did not expect him to remember. We all have our flaws. Peter forgets and I grow - that's how it is. It's horrible but it's right. And now everything has gone terribly wrong. He has changed or I have forgotten, or both, or worse or I don't know...
Three of them came out of the woods together. I thought they must all be Lost Boys, even though the one in front stood like a leader (Slightly stood a bit like a leader too.)
"I am Wendy Moira Angela Tootles," I said, "take me to Peter Pan."
"I am Peter Pan," said the lead boy.
"No you are not." I said, noticing even as I did that he had Peter's skin, Peter's curls, Peter's eyes, Peter's little teeth. Yet he was not Peter, and I knew it.
"Oh yes I am," he said, laughing, as though he were at a pantomime.
More boys arrived - six or seven of them, and they all looked curiously at me. The smallest came forward, reached out his little hand and lightly touched my arm, then ran back to the others, grinning at his own bravery
"What is it, Peter?" He asked. "It is something like a Jane and something like a Pirate. Should we kill it, or will it be our mother?"
The boy they called Peter would not show his ignorance, so he turned away and said: "It is nothing of interest. It is only a mermaid without her tail. Come. I want to build canoes."
And then they left me.
Everything has gone terribly wrong.
May the... I do not know. Never Land is such a confusing place when it comes to time. I shall not write the date any more.
And I shall not allow myself to believe that I am mistaken or mad. The boy the people here call Peter Pan is not the boy I knew when I was a child - I know that in the same way that I know water is wet or love is good.
I feel lonely and afraid, but I am determined to find out what has happened
[Later - another day? It has certainly darkened and become light more.]
I confess that after I wrote the above all my resolution dissolved into tears - I wept and wept until exhaustion took me and I fell asleep.
I awoke suddenly to feel a rough pair of hands on my shoulders. I squirmed and kicked and screamed, but my assailant was much stronger than me, and once he'd clamped a hand over my mouth I was defenceless. He carried me easily across the sand.
"Quake with fear, Lady," was the first thing he said to me, but he didn't sound too sure about it. "For we be the meanest pirates that sailed the seven seas!" There was an uncomfortable silence, then, "Arrrrr," as a kind of afterthought.
Suddenly I recognised him. Smee! Smee had always been my favourite. I remember thinking he needed a mother just as much as Peter did. I began to laugh, but he must have misinterpreted my noises.
"Oh, please don't cry, Lady! The Cap'n's a Gentleman. I'm sure 'e won' hurt ye. I'd let ye go, only I promised 'im I'd bring 'im back a captive 'an the boys an' the Injuns are always too speedy for me."
We rounded a corner and I saw the ship moored in a natural harbour. A small pirate was cleaning the floor - swabbing the decks, I should say - but other than that it was deserted. He looked up curiously as Smee gently threw me into a small chamber which he then locked with a loud, "take that!" presumably for the other pirate's benefit, and a quiet, "sorry," presumably for mine.
