There was once a boy, a boy who wouldn't grow up. He was different than the usual babes that lost themselves from their carriages and were whisked to Neverland. This boy was different. At the age of 7 He decided then and there to never grow up. To always stay a child in the eyes of adults. He ran from his home, only to find a small cat. This was no ordinary cat though, for it was only 2 inces tall with wings sprouting from it's back. It called to the boy, and kept him company before finally allowing the boy to follow him back home, back home to Neverland. And he did. He aged, oh yes, for he had to grow up just enough to know reason. He stopped at the age of 14 and along the way gathered a group of boys to be his "men". His Lost Boys. He made peace with the Indians, and gained the ability to fly over time. You must know by now, nothing is ever at peace completely. This boy did have his enemies. The Pirates. He cut off their Captain's hand and fed it to the crocodile, giving it a taste it longed for years after. They remained enemies forever and a day and still are. This boy though, he had his share of secrets. This boy could not feel. He knew not what love was. He knew not sadness, pain, love, hate, all those emotions. He knew only to have fun. Yet he visited a window every night. A window of a young girl. To listen to her stories. But, you have to wonder, is it just the stories he loves so?