Winter hurried along the city sidewalks of London. The day was getting a bit late, and she wanted to spend a little time in the sunlight with her mother. The streets were crowded with city dwellers more than it usually was, but the traffic wasn’t going to stop Winter from getting to her destination. She passed by an old theater building when something caught her eye. She stopped and huddled closer and found that the theater was putting on a new rendition of Peter and Wendy, with a poster advertising it on the front window. The poster had a young girl in a green leaf covered outfit holding a slim bronze sword. Winter knew the role of Peter was notoriously played by a female in the theater, but still found it a tad jarring. Her eyes drew to a bright blue dress that was worn by Wendy. It was hard to see the actress’s face though, as it was lined up perfectly with her own body, making it seem as if Winter’s face was on Wendy’s body. A nostalgic, but sad smile crept across her face. She always loved that play. Well, her mother loved the play and forced it upon anyone she could to love it as well. Nevertheless, Winter always had fond memories when she thought of Peter and Wendy.
She was just about to leave when a greasy old man rammed into her, nearly knocking her over. “We can’t live like this! We must go back!” He wailed. He wore dark colored ripped cargo pants, combat boots, and a dark gray shirt with some type of blue
“Whoa buddy!” A young man, no older than 22 or 23, with dark brown hair that had a tinge of red in it, grabbed the old man. “Sorry about that. Old age has really gotten to him.”
“You’re older than me,” wailed the Old Man.
“See what I’m talking about?” The young man said with a charismatic grin. As Winter recomposed herself, she noticed the strange outfit the young man had on. He wore very similar combat boots and pants that the old man had, only his were a dark forest green. Perhaps it was a uniform he shared with the old man, but the strangest bit was that he wore a sleek grey blanket as a jacket, like something you would see out of an old Clint Eastwood western. It looked a tad modern though with an extremely textured finish.
“No need to worry about it. It’s fine,” Winter said as she turned back to the poster. Perhaps she’ll go to the play, she thought. She was about to search for the dates it was playing when she felt their lingering presence.
“You thinking of going?”
“What?” She turned to see the young man staring at the poster as well with a wicked smile.
“The play! You look like you want to go.”
“Oh um, I’m not sure,” she said as her mind continued to be clouded with memories of her mother.
“Why not? You can’t miss the greatest play ever made!”
Wow, this guy must not have gotten out much. She expected a play described as ‘the greatest play ever’ to be a more pretentious play coming from the guy wearing a blanket as a fashion statement. “Ever made?” she questioned. “You’re really going to put that on Peter and Wendy. And disregard Tennessee Williams? Arthur Miller? Shakespeare? Don’t get me wrong I love Peter and Wendy. But greatest ever?”
“What’s not to like? There’s a dashingly handsome hero, flying pirates, a nefarious villain…” the young man continued to ramble on with plot elements as Winter’s focus gazed away. Winter sensed something was wrong with ‘flying pirates’, but assumed he was talking too fast. “Plus mermaids! What girl didn’t want to be a mermaid when they would swim in a pool growing up?”
Winter smiled knowing she was one of those girls. “My mum used to say that.” She turned back toward the poster remembering all the memories she had with her mother. One of the first books her mother ever read her was Peter and Wendy. It was quite possibly the first Disney film she was ever shown. Her mother took her many times to see local plays renditions of it even if they had seen it earlier in the year. Winter didn’t always want to go, but seeing her mother light up watching the performance was more than enough reason to go with her. She may have forced the play on her and her father, but she meant well. She just wanted them to love what she did.
“Why don’t you take her?”
“She’s uh, she passed,” Winter said as she broke out of her trance.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the young man mumbled as his enthusiasm died out.
“It’s fine. She used to love Peter Pan though. She loved the whole ‘keep your inner child’ and all the optimism Peter had, but…”
“All that’s gone now,” the young man finished her sentence. Winter nodded and took a look back toward the young man. His face became suddenly very tense. Almost as if he was angry now. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop staring at the poster. He was standing directly in front of the Peter on the poster. His body lined up exactly with the poster as Winter’s had. He saw his reflection and tried to force a smile, but failed miserably as soon as his eyes drew towards the actress that played Wendy. Winter could sense something was wrong with him and tried to break the silence.
“You alright there?’ The young man broke his concentration and turned back toward Winter.
“Oh yeah of course! I was just um..” he looked back to the poster looking for something to help the conversation along. “Why does he always wear leaves as an outfit? And why is it always a girl?”
“I don’t know, he lives on an island. And he’s supposed to be like 7 years old and a hairy man looks awful in tights.”
“You sure about that?” he questioned with a grin.
“About the man in tights? Yes, I think I speak for everyone in the world that I do not want to see a hairy man in green tights.”
“No, not that,” he chuckled. “That he lives on an island, and he’s 7.”
“I mean that is what the book says,” she stated giving him a confusing side eye. “I would have thought the person who claimed it was ‘the greatest in the world’, would know that,” Winter snarked at him playfully.
“I don’t know, maybe they got it wrong is all I’m saying.”
“How could they get it wrong?’ she snorted “It’s not real.”
“I don’t know,” the young man shrugged. “Things just aren’t always as they seem. That’s all I’m saying,” he said as he stared into her eyes. With his longing gaze, she felt as if he wanted to tell her something else. Something dark and secretive. She was about to ask for some type of elaboration, but the old man threw himself into their conversation.
“Where are all the mermaids?” The old man asked.
“Always with the jokes Grandpa,” the young man jested projecting a forced laugh. “Let’s get you home. Nice meeting you.” The young man took the Old Man and parted ways.
“I’m not your grandpa,” he said as he was pushed away.
“That’s really starting to sting old man.” Winter heard him say as they drifted off into the public crowd. She couldn’t help but laugh at their relationship as she turned back toward the poster. Perhaps I will go, she thought. But that decision can wait. The warm orange sun reminded her about the time and she noticed she had just a few hours left until closing time. Looking back to the public crowd she saw the old man and young man were further away.
Right as she was about to step into the crowd, a bright yellow light beamed into her eyes. She stopped and shielded her eyes, blinking several times as if someone just flashed a powerful flashlight directly into her eyes. After her eyes readjusted, she noticed the light vanished. Winter looked ahead and couldn’t see the old man anymore. She looked around to see if anyone else had a similar thing happen to them, but everyone was business as usual. So weird, she thought as she headed off passing several alleyways.
Unbeknownst to Winter, one of the alleyways contained a man in a hooded tunic, concealing every facial aspect of him. He walked out of the alleyway and saw Winter heading off to a nearby graveyard. Perhaps she could be of use, he thought. Not the primary objective, but could sweeten his deal. Anything to please a client, he thought as he followed her. After all, she’s heading in the same direction…
Winter got to the cemetery just as golden hour approached. She walked the trail past multiple graves as she always had. At one point in time, she thought she might memorize all the names of the graves she passed by. Out of all the times she had been there, not one of them were ever visited by anyone. She took a right and headed to her familiar spot, a headstone reading her mother’s name, covered in a few leaves. “Hey mum” she said as she dusted away the leaves. Winter slung off her backpack and cozied up next to her mother’s gravestone. She closed her eyes, and produced a smile. Even though she was dead, she still felt her mother’s presence here. It reminded her of the feeling of being a young girl again. While most teenagers dreamed about growing up and leaving school behind, Winter had a yearning to be a child again.
She was whisked away with the feelings of her childhood. Remembering not worrying about anything, not having to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life and most importantly, the feeling of knowing she always had a support system with her mother. And suddenly, just like that, inspiration struck. It wasn’t a rushed eureka moment, however. Winter very calmly opened her backpack and took out her sketchpad and colored pencils. She opened a blank page and let it all come naturally, just like the old days.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Each stroke with the pencil came easier and easier. She was flooded with memories of drawing with her mum. Each of them playfully critiquing each other’s work. She remembered the laughs, the happiness, and even the sadness following the months she got sick. Everything was different back then, and Winter was a completely different person. Gone was the optimistic girl who was amazing at art. And she would never come back. Sure, she had these few bursts of creativity, but she knew she would never truly be that person again. She was a shell of who she was and a stranger to her younger self.
Putting on the finishing touches to her drawing, she raised it up, as if to show her mother. “What do ya think?” She studied it. Without a mirror, Winter made an abstract self portrait of herself. Using unusual colors that shouldn’t work together, but somehow did. “I don’t know, I think it could use a bit more color,” she said to herself. Any normal person would think it was perfect and would have no idea on how to add more color. Even with her own critique, she smiled at this accomplishment. Even though she used to always draw like this, this small feat brought joy.
Her smile slowly faded as she put down the drawing. “Yeah me and dad had a fight again. Usual thing you know.” Silence passed. Even though she was only talking to herself, she felt as if her mother was right there with her, hearing her mother’s words in her ears. “I know he means well, but he just doesn’t get it. Not like you did.” She paused letting her mother speak. “I just, can’t be who I was when you were here. I still think about living abroad and trying the whole art thing, but when you left…reality really set in.” She could feel the tears coming, but starting breathing fast and hard to try and stop it. Her throat became extremely dry, as if all of her body’s moisture was being transferred to her eyes. “It’s just hard to dream without you.” And then the tears rushed in. Not many, but enough. The tears fell down to her sketch, ruining all of her hard work, but she couldn’t care less about the drawing right now.
That’s enough for today, she thought. She wiped her nose, catching the last tear and tried to catch her breath. Soft, long breaths. “I really wish you were here.” She glanced toward her mother’s name on the grave stone and put her hand on it. After one final slow breath, she gathered all her things, readying to go back to her dreaded home.
“I’m sorry.” Winter heard a man say from just across the graveyard. It’s amazing how much sound can travel through a completely quiet field. She looked across and found the young man she ran into earlier, standing by himself in front of a grave. Winter wasn’t usually the type to barge in on other’s conversations, but she found this very peculiar. Running into the same guy twice in one day?
She approached cautiously. Even though she was curious, she didn’t want him to hear or think she was invading his privacy, even though she was. As she got closer, she saw his whole body was trembling, but particularly his right hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral.” She noticed the grave he was in front of seemed older than most. The concrete was a darker color and more weeds were in front of it than any other gravestone. It had clearly been here a while, but why was he sorry about not attending a funeral if the grave was ancient?
“I tried avoiding you, I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault,” he muffled out in between sobs. Winter saw him twirl something in his right hand, but from the safe distance she was at, she couldn’t tell what it was. The sunlight hit the object in his hand just right to produce a short shine, but quickly faded away when he closed his fist. “I just want you to know that I think about you every day.” Winter could tell he was also holding back his emotions, trying not to cry, a feeling she knew all too well. “I try not to, but everything brings me back to you.”
Suddenly a bright yellow light appeared next to him. Not a shining light, but a constant one, like a firefly. It was tiny and moved around him like it was flying. What the hell, she thought. Winter thought she needed to get her eye sight checked when the young man turned toward the light, confirming that he saw it too. “He’s already back Tink?”
“Affirmative Peter. Hook is already on his way back. We can catch up to him if we leave now.” How was that tiny light producing a robotic sounding voice? Winter couldn’t believe what she was seeing or hearing. She must have fallen asleep or something. She gently pinched her arm. Either this was a dream where she could feel pain or it was actually real. And Hook? She must have been knocked out while staring at that Peter and Wendy poster. There’s no way there was a tiny light talking to a man named Peter about Hook.
Peter crouched down next to the grave. Winter could see tears well up in his eyes. He put his hand on the grave, “I won’t say goodbye. Because goodbye means going away. And going away means…” Despite trying to hold back, a few tears slid down his cheeks. Winter saw that he dropped whatever object was in his hand at the grave. He didn’t seem to notice. As he wiped away the fugitive tears, he walked away with the light following close behind him.
Winter approached the grave cautiously. She kneeled down and discovered the object he dropped was a tiny thimble. She studied it, thinking this could not be possible. The gravestone was completely covered in vines and tall grass, covering up any information about it. She wiped it away and what she found made everything more confusing. It read ‘Wendy Darling’. “No way,” she whispered in disbelief. This was either a prank show or a complete coincidence. It had to be. One of those things where someone just happened to have the same name or some crazy fan changed their name. She picked up the thimble that he must have forgotten. Winter’s thoughts quickly came up with a plan to figure out this peculiar situation. She could return it, and she could talk to him and he could settle this mad theory and confirm this was all one weird coincidence. Yes, she thought, amazing plan. She headed to catch up to the boy. If she was not as distraught, she might have noticed that the gravestone read the years Wendy was alive, 1887-1931.
Pocketing the thimble in her jean jacket, she walked briskly to try and catch up to him. He was heading toward an open field, nowhere for him to go anyway. “Hey!” He kept moving forward as if he hadn’t heard a sound. Winter picked up her pace. “Hey! Boy!” she yelped, but he still failed to hear her. “You dropped your-” and Peter vanished out of thin air!
Winter skidded to a halt, dead in her tracks. “What the-? How?!” How did he just simply disappear? She must be asleep or in a dream. There’s coincidence, but no way can someone vanish out of thin air.
Winter continued to head toward the open field, needing to investigate this for herself. She stopped right before he vanished and looked around for any possible sign of him. She was about to continue into the field when Winter was shoved forward. It was such an unexpected and powerful shove that Winter collapsed to the ground. She landed on a cool metal surface, even though she expected to land on a grass field. Looking ahead, she saw that she was not in an open field at all, but actually in a cool grey metal hallway with a door at the end. She looked down and saw the floor was illuminated with a light blue shine.
She looked behind her in disarray. She found a ramp leading down back into the open field. There was no way she could possibly miss this. How did something this massive be completely invisible?
She was about to get up when suddenly everything started shaking as if a massive earthquake was happening. Winter did her best to get back on her feet. Right as she did, she felt the entire floor lift up, as if she was in an airplane taking off. She fell further back from the ramp into the hallway, letting out a quick yelp in the process. She did her best to get back up and turn back toward the ramp, but right as she turned, the ramp lifted itself up and started to close up the opening. She rushed over as quickly as she could. Right as she got to the ramp, she stopped dead in her tracks when she realized she was now up in the sky above the field. Any jump would surely hurt her.
As the ramp finished closing, the last thing she saw was a man in a dark hooded tunic. He took off his hood and made eye contact with her, giving her a sinister grin, as if he was proud of something that he knew would cause her harm. With everything going on around her all she could focus on was a massive scar across his eye. It was the last image she saw as the ramp finished closing, leaving Winter in the dark, with only the floor illuminating the room, leading to the door at the end of the hallway.
Winter took out her phone to hopefully message anyone about what was happening. She quickly looked at her contacts dialed her father, hoping he would answer. Please pick up, even though if it’s not one of your business calls, she thought. “Winter?” her father answered.
“Dad! Dad! You need to-” she suddenly heard two beeps, but continued to call for help without realizing it. “Help me. I’m trapped and-” Winter stopped yammering when she realized she could only hear dead silence. She looked at her phone and saw that she had no service. Winter tried to control her breathing. Where was she? The rumbling of the room suddenly died down and seemed completely still.
She hit the flashlight button on her phone and looked around. She found herself in what looked like a loading dock area. It mainly seemed like junk was piled up against the walls. She saw multiple bulky metallic backpacks hanging from the walls. Upon further inspection, it seemed as if there were rockets on the bottom of them. She continued down the hall and the backpack supply slowly turned into a bunch of sword hilts hanging. Why would there be sword hilts without the actual part of the sword? She kept exploring and found what looked like toy guns. They seemed like toys because they were all cool metal but had such a big round tip that they looked like a kid’s sci-fi playset. The only thing missing was the orange tip at the end of the barrel of the gun. She picked it up and realized it was actually very heavy. Dropping it, she made her way to the door. As she approached, she started looking for any type of door knob or anything to signal how to open it, when the door suddenly slid open from the top.
She continued into the door and everything changed from a cool metal grey to being painted a dark crimson. The path lead to 3 possible openings. One to the right and left, and one right in front of her. As she debated which path, she heard familiar voices.
“But why did he come here Tink?” she recognized as the young man’s voice, Peter. She chose the path in front of her and crept slowly, making sure not to make a sound just in case she had to fight her new captor.
“It makes no calculated sense why Hook would come all this way for no reason.” the robotic voice spoke, Tink, she guessed. Winter inched forward until she appeared at the end of the hallway, revealing to be a massive rounded cockpit with a captain’s chair in the middle where Peter sat. At the end of the cockpit, was a massive windshield that was completely covered in darkness with small white dots that they sped past. She looked to the right of the room and found a window. Her eyes widened as she found the sun amongst the blackness of window. Was she in space?
“Exactly. He hasn’t been here for at least 70 Earth years, so why now?” Peter stated as he typed on a massive keyboard that sat in front of him. Peter lounged back in the chair pondering with the yellow light close by to him. Winter stood looking at everything in disbelief. She couldn’t possibly be in space. She tried to move back to the cargo bay, but her body wouldn’t let her. “Tink, autopilot to Neverland.”
“Second star to the right…” Tink started the familiar saying. Peter felt a nostalgic smile creep on his face as Winter started to get light-headed. This couldn’t be real.
“And straight on until-” Peter exclaimed, but was interrupted by a thud behind them. Winter had collapsed on the steel floor. Peter and Tink swung themselves around and saw Winter’s body. She was having trouble breathing and looked as if her eyelids were about to close. Peter jumped out of his seat. “Tink! When did we pick up a human?” Peter rushed over and knelt beside her. Winter could feel her consciousness slowly slip away. Peter gave her a light slap! “Hey! How did you get on my ship?”
The slap did nothing to Winter and she continued to lose consciousness. The last thing she saw before drifting off to blackness was Peter staring at her awaiting a response. He seemed more aggravated than concerned. The yellow light flew right up beside him when she closed her eyes.