They always say to start at the beginning, however sometimes even that may be subjective. The beginning of my time in this place? What drew me here? Perhaps the events that transpired prior to my arrival in what (based on the evidence I have seen) is both the Neverland of the stories and yet somehow not, perhaps it is nothing but a dark reflection of the realm my Great Uncle wrote of. Perhaps, as we are speaking of Neverland I should start with Peter...not that Peter, no. My elder brother Peter was born on a cold winters morning, I am told it was an easy birth and he a happy, healthy child. From a young age he showed an interest in nature and the outdoors, but more than anything else he loved stories of adventure, pirates on the high seas, seeking treasure and adventure, great wizards in their high towers, crafting spells to enrapture and enchant, beasts most foul and the brave heroes who vanquished them. Fitting that our father a lover of fiction and fantasy himself, named him after Peter Pan.  I on the other hand was born some years after Peter and have only vague memories of a laughing elder brother who would take me for long walks in the countryside and regale me with tales of the other Peter and the lost boys,. and then one day, the very  day of his fifteenth birthday, he was gone. Vanished from our lives as if he never was. At first my parents were upset, searching high and low, the police came and went, stories and articles were written in the papers calling for information on the lost boy but as time went by I noticed my parents speaking less and less of him and by the time I was thirteen my parents never spoke of him. The thing that made it worse was that it wasn't due to pain or a need for closure. I asked my mother to tell me about Peter once when I was fourteen and she started to tell me the tale of Peters adventures in Neverland, when I attempted to clarify that I was not asking after that Peter she gave me the strangest look, as if she did not know what I was speaking of. Over the years I have confirmed this, no one, not even one of my parents, nor my aunts and uncles remember Peter, it is as if they all suffered from some strange form of mass amnesia. Any memory they had of a boy named Peter has somehow been subsumed and over written in their minds by the fictional character. My aunt Hellen ( the youngest of my aunts) seems to have the clearest memories of Peter but to her he was merely my imaginary friend, an older boy that I would speak to and have adventures with as a child. I suspect it is because she was only just eighteen herself when Peter dissapeared and just entering adulthood, that she retains any memory of him at all. So it was that I grew up in a house where no one remembered my brother but I. I sometimes wonder if I stay here long enough, will they forget me too?

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I have become side tracked and distracted, thinking of things long past...Should any one ever find this journal I ask that they forgive me... tomorrow I leave on a journey into uncharted waters, my hope is to finally find my brother and bring him home. The time here in Neverland is...fluid for lack of a better word, where our time is linear, nothing in Neverland is ever the same. I have left and come back days before my first visit. I have left it as jungle and a world teeming with life only to arrive in a desolate land barely recognisable as Neverland over run with dark spirits and foul twisted versions of the creatures I once knew when I came back. 

This is the very first time that I have found any evidence of my Peter here, a barely legible note left in an empty hut. It speaks of an attack by Pirates and other dark denizens of Neverland, of brave defenders barely defeating them and driving them off, and finally of a decision made to abandon what was left of Neverland and sail into uncharted waters in search of a new home. It seems my Peter had come to lead what was left of the fairys, indians and lost boys, even some of the pirates had jumped ship, unable to stomach the acts of violence and cruelty visited upon the denizens of this broken land. It was with the help of these pirates that Peter and his lost tribe set sail on a small fleet of pirate vessels, never again to be seen in these lands. With time those left behind and others who came to these lands later have formed  a new community, I have befriended some of these inhabitants. Alistair, a lost boy from my world who refuses to go home, Tick-Tock the crocodile, one of the few survivors of the massacre, left for dead in his swampy home and Puck an old fairy who stayed behind to care for Pixie Hollow. It is with these companions that I leave on the new tide to seek evidence of the final outcome of the first expedition. We have found and repaired an old pirate vessel and have renamed it the "Wendy" 

Dear reader, think of us and remember us if we do not return.