Night in Neverland had always been a beautiful occurrence. The endlessly rolling sky, usually the lightest blue in daylight, would turn a velvety black as the Sun sank below the horizon. The stars emerged several hours after sundown, appearing like sparkling tears of the most brilliant white. The sea would stay calm, a flat, glassy surface reflecting the light of the stars.
Sometimes, the Moon would show herself, hanging dreamily in the heavens and remaining a constant source of beauty and hope until the sky turned pink and the Sun rose gallantly once more, like a golden stallion galloping through the atmosphere and the mist.
But this night in Neverland, someone was awake and crying. No one heard her because she was weeping so softly and serenely. She was perched on one of the smooth rocks at Mermaid Lagoon, staring at her rippled reflection in the warm shallow turquoise waters.
Although it would be terribly callous to call her ugly, there was no getting around the fact that that was what she was. Her tail, instead of being a rich rose pink or a flashy royal purple or a beautiful emerald green, was greyish-blue, growing paler in some places, and fading to white nearer the end of her fins. Her skin was pale and easily bruised. The hair that clung wetly to her scalp and shoulders was long and silvery-blonde.
Her eyes - now they were about the only thing of beauty about the gaunt face. They were a gentle grey, holding no trace of evil or malice; the mermaid, unlike her companions, took no delight in trying to drown Peter Pan's friend, "the Wendy girl".
She was not at all like the other mermaids: for one, she could not speak in human tongues like her Sisters of the Sea could. She could only make soft, crooning sounds that no one understood.
Except the crocodile.
It was interesting that, whilst the rest of Neverland's inhabitants either feared or greatly respected the sly reptilian, this one mermaid could converse with it, and the odd pair had even forged a friendship, if that was what it could be called.
The reason the mermaid was weeping was because she wished with all of her heart that she could be mortal. Whilst her Sisters of the Sea were content with lounging around, teasing each other and flirting with Peter and his Lost Boys, this little outcast wanted to be able to fly the skies like Peter himself, and maybe to perch awhile on the smooth wooden bowsprit of the infamous pirate ship.
She had only once confided this in another mermaid; when she had revealed her dream to fly, the other mermaid had laughed scornfully and shrieked, "You! Flying! You'd look so ungainly - a flying fish! Don't be so empty-headed!" And then she had dived into the water, splashing the cowed mermaid and leaving her feeling hurt and unwanted.
Now, the clouds moved across the moon, and the lagoon was thrown into shadow. The mermaid quietened a little. What was that sound? Tick, tick, tick. She paused. She smiled.
The crocodile slid effortlessly onto the rock beside the mermaid, grinning in its false, dangerous way.
"Why do you cry so, Daughter of the Lagoon?" asked the crocodile, flashing weathered fangs.
"The reason I am always crying," replied the mermaid, absently gazing at her thin hands. "I wish to fly."
The crocodile's smile grew. A plan formed in its mind.
"Maybe I can assist you," purred the reptile.
The mermaid whipped her ugly head around. The crocodile snickered to itself.
"All you need to do is this…"
As the crocodile explained the task the mermaid had to perform, the latter began to worry. It would be exceedingly dangerous, not to mention the certainty it would ostracize her from her fellow mermaids.
But wasn't she an outcast already? And if she succeeded, the crocodile claimed, it would show her the way to a land where anyone can be exactly what they want to be. Eager and willing, the mermaid finally agreed to the crocodile's idea.
As first light spread over Neverland, the crocodile slipped back into the water, accompanied by the mermaid. Together, they swam silently out of the lagoon and out into the open sea.