The letter was an old and parched paper, like something you would see in the 1900's. It's address was worn out; it said only 14, London, England. It read:
Dear Eliza,
I am your grandmother, Jane Darling. You may know me, but by the time you'll find this, I won't be around anymore. You may be wondering why I'm writing a letter to you. Well, there's something you need to know. When a Darling girl turns 11, or 12, she knows she's about to grow up. When my mother, Wendy was your age, she went to Neverland. You would probably remember, ha, your mother even made a plan to tell you about Neverland when you were a baby. But remember, Neverland is REAL. If anyone tells you otherwise, they're lying and a damn idiot. You might even hear some knocks on your window tonight, so leave it open.
Your dearest grandmother,
Jane Moira Darling
"Neverland is real?" whispered Eliza. She heard footsteps, and her mother opened the door. "Honey, time to go to be...what are you reading? *gasp* Grandmother's letter." Mother looked ," It's fine, darling, go to sleep." She took one last gander, and closed the door. "Better open the window." whispered Eliza. She opened her window, and played her music box, one that she got from her mother, Wendy Moira Angela Darling. She sang;
Silent night
Holy might
All is calm
All is bright
Round thy Virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
