Peter Pan. Peter/Wendy. 001. Beginnings.
Title: Things of the Past
Fandom: Peter Pan
Characters: Peter Pan/Wendy Darling
Prompt:001. Beginnings
Word Count:1034
Rating:PG
Summary: Wendy's grown up thoughts
Author's Notes: I'm so incredibly nervous about this chapter seeing that it's the first time I have ever written Peter Pan anything and fear I'm going to royally mess up everything. But I liked how this came out I can only hope you do as well.
There is one thing every good storyteller knows and that is the difference between fantasy and reality. Fantasy is where your mind travels when you sleep at night and where all good stories come from. Reality is when you wake up and realize that your dream was exactly that, a fantasy. However, there once was a storyteller whose perception of reality and fantasy were forever skewed.
Sitting by a rather picturesque window, Wendy Moira Angela Darling was reading the last few pages of Sense and Sensibility with wistful expression. She sighed heavily closing the book after reading the last line. She leaned back against the pillow that was resting against the wall and stared out into the starry night. Her brown hair was swept back with comb keeping it in place, but a few renegade pieces still managed to escape the elegantly done twist and fell around her face. Her freckles, once pronounced, had faded until they were almost completely invisible to the casual observer. At age sixteen, Wendy had resigned herself to her aunt’s teachings and stayed safely out of the realm of fantasy; keeping her feet firmly planted in a reality she would rather not be a part of.
“Wendy?”
Wendy tore her gaze away from the cloudless sky and looked across her bedroom at her youngest brother. She smiled warmly, scooting over on the bench by the window making room for the seven-year-old. Michael didn’t waste time and immediately curled up at her side. It was late if the bonging of Big Ben was any indication; it was well past eleven o’clock.
The brunette stroked her fingers through Michael’s flyaway hair in a soothing motion. “Another bad dream?”
Michael nodded, sticking his thumb in his mouth a habit he had picked up three years ago and had yet to stop. His large brown eyes stared at her tears leaking out of the corners.
“He was back, Wendy,” Michael cried softly, clambering onto her lap. Wendy didn’t question this nor did she stop her younger brother, instead she wrapped her arms around him securely, kissing the top of his head. While Michael was seven and becoming too old in their parent’s eyes to go to them, after a bad dream they had a system, a strict one that never faltered and never changed. He knew she would be up and she always stayed up just in case. “And he was about to kill you! He had a horrible smile on his face that even appeared through his eyes and as he asked you in a very scary voice if you had any last words. You looked at us with the most sad face ever, your smile was gone and said you loved us. It made me and John cry. And he made us watch as he ran you through with his sword.” He paused taking deep gulping breaths as if it would help any. “And then I woke up.”
Wendy embraced him tight, wanting to erase the bad memories of their one grand adventure. She rained kisses over his face until he started to laugh again. “Quit it Wendy!” he said, bad dream already drifting into the recesses of his mind where they would soon be forgotten.
She stopped and smiled at him. “Quit what?” she asked innocently before continuing her kissing attack.
Michael jumped off her lap laughing. “You’ll never get me!”
“Go back to bed you terror,” Wendy chuckled. “What would mother or father for that matter think if they saw you running around at this late hour?”
Michael froze a look of the utmost terror on his face before he scrambled from Wendy’s lavender scented room back into the nursery. Wendy wasn’t too surprised to see John standing just inside her doorway, his arms crossed and a troubled expression on his face.
“One day he’s going to remember exactly what happened,” John stated, sounding more than tired by this possibility. “He hasn’t asked you about Neverland in over a year and the nightmares have been coming more frequently since then.”
“You don’t think I know this,” Wendy hissed in frustration. “I try so hard to help him forget. It wasn’t even that bad.”
“He was four Wendy,” John reminded her. “He was too young to thoroughly process what had been going on.”
“He was old enough to fight,” Wendy shot back regretfully.
“No one even died,” John said through gritted teeth.
“He thought we were going to.”
“We were going to Wendy or did you forget that in the midst of you getting to act out your foolish girly fantasy?”
Wendy gasped in outrage. “You take that back John!”
“No,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing behind his wire frame glasses. “I’ve grown past it, but clearly my dear older sister, you haven’t.”
He spun on his heel and stormed out of her bedroom, leaving Wendy to fume silently by herself.
“How dare he?” she hissed furious with him and herself. She hated arguing with John but it was happening more frequently with each passing night. She knew intuitively that her brother was correct with his assessment of her mental affairs. The very idea that someday Peter may come back for her was ludicrous and if she didn’t let go of her childhood love she was surely going to be caught daydreaming and earn a severe lashing in the process. Ms. Perrigrew detested the idea that any of her girls had any imagination. Girls weren’t supposed to have imagination they were simply there to learn how to please their future husbands and how to act in civilized society. Sordid tales of pirates and Indians had no place in high society. No it would be best if she forgot all about Neverland and the brief moment of pure happiness she had felt there.
Frost was forming on the edge of the window. It crept up the panes slowly weaving its spindly webs, obscuring her view of the snow-covered garden below. Wendy pressed her temple against the frigid glass allowing her mind to drift one last time to the lush forest filled with faeries, Indians, lost boys and a love that still would flare up unexpectedly when she let herself go.
Fandom: Peter Pan
Characters: Peter Pan/Wendy Darling
Prompt:001. Beginnings
Word Count:1034
Rating:PG
Summary: Wendy's grown up thoughts
Author's Notes: I'm so incredibly nervous about this chapter seeing that it's the first time I have ever written Peter Pan anything and fear I'm going to royally mess up everything. But I liked how this came out I can only hope you do as well.
There is one thing every good storyteller knows and that is the difference between fantasy and reality. Fantasy is where your mind travels when you sleep at night and where all good stories come from. Reality is when you wake up and realize that your dream was exactly that, a fantasy. However, there once was a storyteller whose perception of reality and fantasy were forever skewed.
Sitting by a rather picturesque window, Wendy Moira Angela Darling was reading the last few pages of Sense and Sensibility with wistful expression. She sighed heavily closing the book after reading the last line. She leaned back against the pillow that was resting against the wall and stared out into the starry night. Her brown hair was swept back with comb keeping it in place, but a few renegade pieces still managed to escape the elegantly done twist and fell around her face. Her freckles, once pronounced, had faded until they were almost completely invisible to the casual observer. At age sixteen, Wendy had resigned herself to her aunt’s teachings and stayed safely out of the realm of fantasy; keeping her feet firmly planted in a reality she would rather not be a part of.
“Wendy?”
Wendy tore her gaze away from the cloudless sky and looked across her bedroom at her youngest brother. She smiled warmly, scooting over on the bench by the window making room for the seven-year-old. Michael didn’t waste time and immediately curled up at her side. It was late if the bonging of Big Ben was any indication; it was well past eleven o’clock.
The brunette stroked her fingers through Michael’s flyaway hair in a soothing motion. “Another bad dream?”
Michael nodded, sticking his thumb in his mouth a habit he had picked up three years ago and had yet to stop. His large brown eyes stared at her tears leaking out of the corners.
“He was back, Wendy,” Michael cried softly, clambering onto her lap. Wendy didn’t question this nor did she stop her younger brother, instead she wrapped her arms around him securely, kissing the top of his head. While Michael was seven and becoming too old in their parent’s eyes to go to them, after a bad dream they had a system, a strict one that never faltered and never changed. He knew she would be up and she always stayed up just in case. “And he was about to kill you! He had a horrible smile on his face that even appeared through his eyes and as he asked you in a very scary voice if you had any last words. You looked at us with the most sad face ever, your smile was gone and said you loved us. It made me and John cry. And he made us watch as he ran you through with his sword.” He paused taking deep gulping breaths as if it would help any. “And then I woke up.”
Wendy embraced him tight, wanting to erase the bad memories of their one grand adventure. She rained kisses over his face until he started to laugh again. “Quit it Wendy!” he said, bad dream already drifting into the recesses of his mind where they would soon be forgotten.
She stopped and smiled at him. “Quit what?” she asked innocently before continuing her kissing attack.
Michael jumped off her lap laughing. “You’ll never get me!”
“Go back to bed you terror,” Wendy chuckled. “What would mother or father for that matter think if they saw you running around at this late hour?”
Michael froze a look of the utmost terror on his face before he scrambled from Wendy’s lavender scented room back into the nursery. Wendy wasn’t too surprised to see John standing just inside her doorway, his arms crossed and a troubled expression on his face.
“One day he’s going to remember exactly what happened,” John stated, sounding more than tired by this possibility. “He hasn’t asked you about Neverland in over a year and the nightmares have been coming more frequently since then.”
“You don’t think I know this,” Wendy hissed in frustration. “I try so hard to help him forget. It wasn’t even that bad.”
“He was four Wendy,” John reminded her. “He was too young to thoroughly process what had been going on.”
“He was old enough to fight,” Wendy shot back regretfully.
“No one even died,” John said through gritted teeth.
“He thought we were going to.”
“We were going to Wendy or did you forget that in the midst of you getting to act out your foolish girly fantasy?”
Wendy gasped in outrage. “You take that back John!”
“No,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing behind his wire frame glasses. “I’ve grown past it, but clearly my dear older sister, you haven’t.”
He spun on his heel and stormed out of her bedroom, leaving Wendy to fume silently by herself.
“How dare he?” she hissed furious with him and herself. She hated arguing with John but it was happening more frequently with each passing night. She knew intuitively that her brother was correct with his assessment of her mental affairs. The very idea that someday Peter may come back for her was ludicrous and if she didn’t let go of her childhood love she was surely going to be caught daydreaming and earn a severe lashing in the process. Ms. Perrigrew detested the idea that any of her girls had any imagination. Girls weren’t supposed to have imagination they were simply there to learn how to please their future husbands and how to act in civilized society. Sordid tales of pirates and Indians had no place in high society. No it would be best if she forgot all about Neverland and the brief moment of pure happiness she had felt there.
Frost was forming on the edge of the window. It crept up the panes slowly weaving its spindly webs, obscuring her view of the snow-covered garden below. Wendy pressed her temple against the frigid glass allowing her mind to drift one last time to the lush forest filled with faeries, Indians, lost boys and a love that still would flare up unexpectedly when she let herself go.