Catching up!
When I had still but newly arrived in Neverland, I saw this place in such a different light. I remember flying with Peter over the sea. The water was blue from up high, but clear as crystal. The wind was a comforting, gentle touch against my cheeks and through my hair. Sunlight warmed me from head to toe -- and I was flying.
I remember seeing the mermaids then. From up above -- far, far above, while we soared through the sky. I slowed, floating as I watched these beautiful creatures swimming and splashing down below. It was wonderous and mystical and all-around beautiful.
I must have lingered for longer than I thought, for when I looked up, Peter was nearly shrinking in the distance. It took a great deal of effort to catch up; sometimes, Peter is not the most conscientious of guides.
But that is the memory I most wish to carry with me. Before I found out that beautiful mermaids were vile and vicious creatures. Before I discovered one could get a sunburn in Neverland just as they could back home. I wish to remember the wonder and the magic of Neverland, always.
Blue. The water was dim and dreary, surprisingly cold, and everywhere. Her breath was held tight in her chest, so tight it might burst any second. Cold hands pushed at her, pulled at her hair and held her ankles, tight. Tight, and blue and frightening and everything was just wrong. She was supposed to be finding life and happiness but instead she was going to drown, and she was alone and oh, she couldn't even tell if she was crying in this bitter, salty sea.
Bubbles escaped her lips, and she watched with hurting eyes as they hurried upwards in the deep blue. The cold was easing, now, but the blue was brightening, deepening. The cruel, binding hands felt looser, but it seemed the waters must have thickened as her struggles to free herself became more sluggish. Her eyelids were heavy, but she didn't fight them as they slowly closed -- she was getting highly sick of the blue anyway, and surely she'd see enough blue in Heaven...
But she felt sleepy, and perhaps this was all just a dream. Perhaps when she woke she'd be home in bed, her brothers slumbering nearby and her parents happily discussing Father's promotion downstairs. And even though blue was her favourite colour, she'd certainly change it post-haste after this disturbing nightmare...
...
She opened her eyes to more blue. But this time it was gleaming and warm, and she knew she had indeed cried when the gentle heat of the breeze prodded the salty droplets across her cheeks. And across her arms and legs -- she wasn't just dripping, she was drenched from head to toe.
Her breath came to her easily now, but her chest tightened again as the shadow of a tousled head loomed near.
"Wendy?" Peter murmured, his face close to hers and his smile worried. He helped her sit up, the sun gleaming on his tanned skin and glinting in his eyes.
Blue.
Perhaps her favourite colour would keep, after all.