Chapter 11

David slipped through the alleyways, making every sharp turn possible, until he was sure the guards wouldn’t find him, or even catch up. As he stopped to take a breather, he realized that he had no idea where he was going. As exhilarating as it felt to escape into this side of the orphanage, this was all new to him. Even the streetlamps, dark and asleep during the day, looked like they were staring at him, trying to make sense of him. He had to get out of there fast, but he couldn’t back track. The Orphanage was somewhere back there. So he kept moving until the sun was way past the horizon, making any turn that didn’t lead to a dead end and any attempt at using the stars for navigation.

Yet the stars led him to a familiar place; a street corner near the…theater. The theater! Where the play was! Where he found Neverland… Wait! Ichabod must be nearby!

Last time he was here, they had rushed back home together so fast that he barely remembered how to get back. But small things lit his way; a streetlamp, a familiar flowerpot in the windowsill, an odd looking wooden door, and then the familiar street sign that hung in front of the store’s alleyway. While it could have been easier to just knock on the front door, next to the store’s window, he decided to surprise him. He past the alleyway entirely and found one of the shortcuts he had found with Oliver before, and entered the garden, lit by a sole lamp whose orange light towered over the whole place and shone like a second sun. As bright as the sun in the garden was, it didn’t shine on the burly looking men knocking on the other door.

He rapped at the door on the other side, to the dismay of the owner inside. The boy heard the usual grumblings of the old man coming, the creaking of the wood underfoot coming closer to the entrance. But unlike what he expected, Ichabod only opened the door a crack.

“Who is- David?! What are you doing here?!”

This took him aback.

“Uh… Ichabod?”

He saw that the old man looked urgent, the streetlight glinting off of his urgent eyes and their supporting bags.

“Get out of here! Go! Before you’re caught! They came for you! GO!”

David’s eyes grew with his curiosity. One the other hand, his mind was begging his body to move.

“Ichabod, what’s going on?! Why are you-”

Then the old man, in a flash of epiphany, retreated inside the store.

“There’s no…time to lose. Where is it? Wait there a moment… I have something to give you… Ah! Here it is!”

He stuck his head out of the crack of the door again, this time holding a sheath.

“You earned this sword. Use it to defend yourself. Now, get out of here! Go!”

As he turned away from the old man one last time, he could have sworn he heard the man say, “Fly, son of Pan!”, before the other door burst open.

The burly men, dressed in ripped sailor uniforms and mismatched garments from every corner of the world, sprinted through the store, knocking Ichabod away and bursting into the courtyard, only to find a small boy running to the exit. Their target was getting away.

David looked back to see the two men charging towards him, at a supernatural pace. They looked strange, like the pirates from the play, and were gaining on him fast. The light was behind them, so he couldn’t tell if they were armed, yet they would’ve shot him if they had guns. He had no chance but to face them. He tied the hilt to his waist and unsheathed the sword. The blade was light and slick, the hilt a worn-out wooden finish that seemed to grow onto the metal and leave intricate markings running up to the tip. It would have to do, even though David would rather keep it beautiful.

He took the stance Ichabod taught him while they lunged at him in unison. The one on the right jumped first, arms outreached without any weapon; they were trying to take him alive. That burly man would be the first target.

He ducked down underneath his jump arc and slashed at the man’s arm, landing on his right forearm and slicing as hard as he could. The blade whizzed so fast he heard it whistle subtlety as he felt it strike true. The man tumbled awkwardly in front of him, gripping his bloody arm. The other man, slightly leaner but more patient, unsheathed his own sword and reached the boy. Their blades met in a thunderous collision, reflecting the streetlight like it was lightning. They each gained momentum over the other and then lost it. For the pirate, this boy was someone special. No amount of training could have prepared him for this.

But then David started feeling tired. After not eating since the sun was in the sky, his body was running on something other than adrenaline. Not only that, but they both knew that David’s high from beating the other pirate was wearing off; he was feeling afraid. David had to get out of there- fast.

He turned the pirate away from the exit of the courtyard, pushing him far enough to have a head start to get out of there and hide. The first second he was able to leave, he turned away from the fight and started a mad dash to the exit. The man tried to slash at him, only to hit the ground where the boy had stood a second before. But he hit something else that was just as important. Yet David didn’t know that as he forced his body to rush forward into the dark London ahead, which was covered in storm clouds and a big chance of torrential downpours.

By the time he checked his surroundings, it felt like he had been running all night long. The only light came from the windows and occasional streetlights, the skyline covered up by dark clouds and flashes of lightning.

Then there was a gap in the storm, about as wide as David’s fist, like a portal through the clouds. Brilliantly lit stars glowed through the hole like diamonds on black fabric. Yet it wasn’t long before, in that hole in the sky, he saw something new; a brilliantly lit comet streaked across the sky and left a brilliant tail of light and a look of awe on his face.

He thought that he read somewhere that if one sees something like that, they should make a wish in a special poem, so it will understand. Who knew, maybe it was a fairy in disguise? Or maybe that’s what second to the right was, where you went to visit Neverland; the name of a star!

He looked through the hole again, with its shimmering lights and distant moonlight shining through onto the street, closed his eyes and, with a deep breath, made his wish:

Second to the right, shining bright, won’t you grant my wish tonight?

If I can’t find Peter Pan, help me get to Neverland.

He stood there and watched the hole close up as it passed over him, satisfied that he took the opportunity to make his first wish since his last birthday. He hoped this one would come true; last time he had wished for his own bicycle.

“You, boy! Who are you and where did you come from?”

Was that…the man from his dreams?!? The boy froze before slowly turning around to see who it was. It was site both calming and fearful. A policeman, heavyset with a small beard, slowly approached the boy as he pointed his baton.

David didn’t give himself time to think. He ran for it, zooming down the street away from him. The policeman didn’t have a chance, and David passed the corner and over the bridge even after he realized that. Meanwhile, the sky became dark, as drops of rain hit the ground. The policeman turned away to go look for some shelter.

But David kept running, and never looked back to see if he was near. The sky rumbled, more rain came down, yet David kept running. The rain became a downpour; he kept running. He wasn’t even running from the law anymore; he was running from his old life, from everything, and he would never want to go near there ever again.

He was so concentrated on running that it took a few blocks for David to realize his condition. His clothes were so soaked they stuck to his skin, water was inside his shoes, and he was freezing.

He was already sleep-deprived and starving. Now he was freezing. He needed some shelter, fast.

Then something kicked in. It He kept running past the similar looking houses until he found one that looked familiar, like he felt a pull towards it. It had a big arch over the door, beckoning him to seek some dry ground. So without a care in the world of being caught by a policeman, he stumbled up to the arch and collapsed onto the three stairs, the sensation of being somewhere dry exciting him just a bit. The moment after he sat on the three stairs, he felt a wave of sleep come over him. So poor lonely David, soaked and shivering, curled up and fell asleep the moment his head touched the top step.