Peter Pan from Wendy's POV (chapter 2)

Chapter 2:

“Okay, this is what you have to do. Close your eyes and be completely silent.” he said as we all followed his instructions. “Now, do you feel something in the air? Something that feels all tingley and staticy? Something that feels like magic?” he whispered dramatically.
My heart beat loudly in my ears as he described the exact feeling I was having earlier.
“All you have to do is feel it and let it lift you up into the air. Believe that it can make you fly!” he said with an almost reverenced tone.
I felt it! What a strange feeling. I didn’t want to let it go. I wanted to embrace it . . . this, this magic . . . what ever it was, it felt amazing. The wind started to blow harder and whip around us like an invisible raging tornado. I tried to move, but I couldn’t.
“Don’t fight against it!” Peter yelled above the wind.
My bare feet left the bedroom floor for a moment then touched back down on the ground, only I could tell we were somewhere different.
The wind died down and I could suddenly move again. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the most beautiful lake and waterfall I’d ever seen.
The sunlight reflected off the deep blue water and came back as sparkles. The lake was a perfect round circle and the waterfall seemed to be coming from the clouds.
Brilliant rainbows were coming from the mist that was made from where the waterfall hit the lake.
I looked down and saw millions of the most beautiful, unique wildflowers I’d ever seen.
The lush green grass was velvet beneath my feet.
There were trees in a perfect half circle, stopping at the face of the cliff that the waterfall was on. The trees all looked to be the same kind of tree, ones with metallic brownish bluish trunks and branches, and dark green leaves with the same strange metallic characteristic. They were so beautiful. I wanted to touch one.
There was a flowery smell in the air, but I couldn’t put a name to it. It smelled like nothing I had ever smelled before.
I could hear the faint bubbling of a stream somewhere, hiding in the wild flowers.
“Where are we?” I asked as I was taking this all in. I was so engrossed with the scene around me that I didn’t notice Peter standing right behind me.
He leaned his face over my shoulder and whispered in my ear “Never Land”.
I jumped and automatically moved my face towards his voice. I looked at him with wild eyes; his face inches from mine and just stared at his expression. He had that same mischievous smile and humor in his eyes. Then he jumped back and laughed.
His laugh startled me. It was so happy, like he had never had any pain in his life, ever. How strange.
“Let’s go and meet the lost boys!” he shouted and started walking towards the strange trees. We all exchanged puzzled looks but agreed to follow.
We had been walking through the trees most of the day but it was all either downhill or flat. I watched as the trees progressively changed color; from blue, to green, to purple, to red, to pink, and back again, all with the same strange metallic tinge. I silently wondered why that was.
Peter was talking cheerily through the whole long walk, talking about his strange little family of ten boys and all the adventures he had had with them. He told us what kind of creatures to avoid and what kind that was fine to be around and about what they looked like.
He twisted around and startled us when his voice suddenly turned intense. “. . . And most of all stay away from the shape shifters! They’re the most dangerous of all the creatures to avoid. They can make themselves look like anything or anyone they want to and deceive you perfectly into making you think that they are whatever they’re pretending to be. One time, there was this old lady whose husband died a long time ago. One of the shape shifters sensed this and decided to transform into a perfect replica of her husband. She followed the shape shifter, thinking it was really her husband and followed him all the way off a cliff and she died.
Shape shifters don’t die because they’re not really alive. They’re something in between. Something horrid. They kill for pleasure because they get board of everyday life.
They play tricks on your mind, but the only thing they can’t change is the distinct mark they have on the bottom of their feet.”
He stopped and drew an intricate symbol in the ground. “Memorize this symbol so if you ever suspect a shape shifter is trying to trick you then you can check for the sign! Don’t trust anyone!” he said with a serious look on his face.
The expression looked weird on his face, like it didn’t belong there. I wanted to make it go away. I quickly memorized the symbol and watched my brothers do the same. It wouldn’t be hard to remember, but I doubted I would ever need to use it.
“Got it?” Peter asked.
We all nodded, still too afraid to speak.
“Good! Let’s move on!” he smiled and started moving forward again.
After a couple of more minutes and Peter’s endless chatter the ground suddenly became all moss-like covered and squishy, but not wet. It felt kind of good to feel something squishy in between my toes. I was tired of walking.
A couple of yards ahead of us there was a giant willow tree. Peter held apart the curtain of leaves for us three to pass and as soon as we were through he walked to the huge trunk of the tree, which had a black metallic sort of look to it, and pulled out a small flute.
He played the loveliest tune I’d ever heard. It got higher and higher until the trunk of the tree started changing shape.
Suddenly there was a doorway and stairs leading down under the tree and Peter stopped playing. My eyes widened Peter started walking towards the entrance.
“Well come on, don’t be shy” he winked as he smiled at our frozen figures.
We started towards hole in the tree and walked down a wooden staircase. It was dark and had a musty woodsy smell.
We could see light ahead of us and when we got to it we entered a big room with a long wooden dining table with long wooden benches that all seemed to be made out of the same kind of black metallic wood. Everything was made out of wood. There were little oval holes carved out of the walls with something in them that looked like blankets and pillows.
I realized that those bubble-shaped holes must be the places where they slept. I wondered who they were, exactly. These lost boys. As if he was reading my mind Peter shouted “Oh lost boys!”
Silence, then the whole tree seemed to shake.
Boys started popping out from everywhere. I counted ten of them. They all looked similar to Peter. They all had tatters for clothes and had scars all over their skinny, underfed bodies. I immediately felt pity for these boys I had never met.
As soon as Peter was done introducing the ten lost boys he left them to play with John and Michael.
Peter turned to me, smiled, grabbed my hand and said “I want to show you something”.
I followed willingly and said “Um . . . okay?” I was still mystified by this boy but the curiosity overpowered the mystery. He led me back up the staircase and into daylight. . .