I watched the new Peter Pan movie and suddenly became very inspired. this is one of two one-shot fics I wrote within the half hour after watching the movie. it started out my pov, but magically became that of a 30 year old british woman's. crazyworld.


It was quite a shock to discover that Peter Pan was not a real boy. All my life I had grown up

hearing stories of his wonderful larks. They shaped my childhood, and much of my youth, for that

matter. I had always believed with all my heart that he was real, that someday he would come

into my window searching for his lost shadow. Wendy was so lucky. I just wonder how long it

took her to realize the truth; that she really wasn't ready to grow up. No one ever is. Anyway, I

kept that window open until I was sixteen, hoping, against hope, that he might come to me. Of

course, at that time I never consciously believed that it was true, at least not out loud, but in the

back of my mind I really did wish for him. So, as you can imagine, it was indeed an enormous

upset to discover the truth. I don't remember any real epiphany in which, in one clear moment I

understood I was wasting my hopes and energy, I simply remember a time in which I became

sullen and thoughtful, and in general unhappy somewhere near my seventeenth birthday. I know,

I know, it sounds exactly like a phase every other girl or boy who walks this earth has

experienced. But you must understand, at the time I felt like this was far, far different than other

"phases" it was in this period that I realized completely, even into the deepest most cobwebby

sections of my mind that were still holding on to Peter, that Peter was indeed fiction. Not only did

my assured belief in these adventures disappear, but also my belief fairy godmothers, magic,

wishes coming true, and charming princes, all went with him. It was a very jarring discovery that

left me quite unhappy. Now, in hindsight, I know I was not quite so different from other sixteen

year olds as I thought I was. I now know that everyone goes through this... disillusionment, this

gain of ignorance (which can be corrected eventually), but tragic loss of innocence (which never

can). I know now that Peter Pan is indeed a real boy simply because of people like me who

keep him alive through the innocence of our children. And as I watch my daughter open her

bedroom window I feel a pang of sadness, knowing that someday, she too will have to grow up

and discover the truth. Knowing that really, no one is ever ready to grow up.


yay. please review, my friends!