Peter Pan and the Lost Sample Chapter 3

His feet dangled far above the rocky valley. All he had with him was a fishing rod and an urge to find a Rockabye Baby. He knew they only came out of the rockswhen no one was around, and when enticed with a tasty treat of worms.

Even though his fishing spot was perfect, Rockabye Babies still took a long time to consider if they were really that hungry, so he started to stare up at his surroundings. The high winds blew his curly hair all over the place as the sky lit up in a bright blue accompanied on one side by a sun with a far happier shade of yellow. Huge mountains peaked over the horizon, with a waterfall splitting in midair to two different pools below.

He knew he was somewhere new. All he knew was that he had been looking to find a way around the massive Kensington Gardens, to his favorite spot by the pond, without his foster parents finding him. Then he passed through a hole in the water and ended up near the massive valley.

At least no one else was around. He felt comfortable being alone, so he pulled down his pants and relaxed as his tail whipped out from below his back. It wasn’t as long as some animals have it, but it was as long as his arm and was even covered in red curly hair, like a fox’s. Yet it begun to feel uncomfortable winding it up underneath his pants, like a coiled spring, all of the time.

After tearing a hole in his khakis to let his extra limb move freely, he returned in time before his rod disappeared over the edge. He couldn’t believe his luck. He caught something! He really did it!

Foxtail, as he liked to call himself, began to fantasize what Rockabye Baby tasted like as he pulled against the rod. He knew that once the rockabye was released from the rocks it would all be over. It was the thrusting from the rock that would be the toughest. His thin arms ached as he struggled to pull it from the rocky floor below.

Soon afterward, he heard a crunching, grinding sound as he felt his efforts reward him all at once. The release of the Rockabye flung him far from the edge, sending him on his backside. His tail helped him stand up and bring his catch up the final hundred feet.

Boy this Rockabye Baby is heavy! I wonder how much they usually weigh.

 He couldn’t really estimate but by how much his arms strained to lift it up. Slowly he turned the taunt line through the rod and pulled it over the edge in a final push through the exhaustion. He lay down on the spot in exhaustion. Sweat ran down his oval face, passing grey eyes as he stared up into the sky, taking deep breaths of the Island’s air. The weather was perfect for impossibilities; not a breath of humidity could be felt as a cool breeze gently swooned over every living thing, as curious about the island’s various surfaces and life as Foxtail was.

He tended to his catch, which had landed belly-up, it’s tiny claw-like appendages waving helplessly in the air. He picked up the massive rock and looked it over. Aside from the claws, it had soft facial features, including small, beady eyes and a wide mouth sucking at the line that used to be occupied by worms.

As he examined it, he wondered how he could eat something like that. As he thought that, it’s massive tongue lapped out and slathered itself over his right forearm. He dropped it before he screamed in revoltion. He hated the feeling of a tongue on his skin. As it crawled away, he began panicking, throwing his arms wildly, his tail whipping the air around him. He knew this feeling too well, as well as what would help. He reached up to his head and twirled his index finger around a curl and pulled. A lock of hair fell out to his satisfaction as he felt his body calm down. He would never try to catch a Rockabye Baby again.

He was still hungry after all of that hard work. Thinking a rock would be tasty had clouded up his vision and stifled the growling of his stomach. He decided to follow wherever his feet took him and figure out what to do from there.

Dry wilderness turned to lush forests of palm, maple and oak trees. He climbed over the thick bushes overladen with creepers and vines, ignoring the rough surfaces that scrapped against the knees of his pants. As sweat trickled down his back, he rolled up his dress shirt and pulled apart the stupid tie he had to wear on Sundays. He even dared to unbutton the shirt and expose his small belly to the savory heat of the understory. He wasn’t even twelve, yet his prominent childhood belly had disappeared in place of a thin figure, with big legs for a child his age. Those same big legs were able to keep him quite literally on his feet as he traversed the terrain for some remnant of civilization.

       He thought about how he was going to make a signal fire when he found a massive tree in the middle of a gap. It was covered in wooden planks, like it was being kept in place by a desperate construction crew. Then he saw the dozens of rotting nooses dangling from above, one of which still had the remnants of a skeleton swaying in the wind. He didn’t even flinch; he just gulped loudly as he moved closer to the tree. It looked to be the only thing that had a touch of civilization for what felt like miles.

Then he saw a hole big enough to climb through. He hesitated for a bit, recalling the nooses hanging above the tree like some twisted decoration. But he saw how rotten they were, and assumed they were abandoned anyway, so he climbed inside.

What he found was unexpected and highly inviting. Piles of twigs and cut pieces of vine were strewn across the floor, as well as some apples, pears and bananas scattered on the big lump of fur in the corner. He slid down the rest of the way inside, flipped an apple up to himself and enjoyed his first meal since the mash he was forced to have that morning. As he crunched down on the apple, core and all, he looked around his new home. The sun was setting on the horizon, splashing bright orange light into the cool, dank hole underground.

The place smelled like freshly cut grass and something else… He couldn’t quite put a finger to the smell. Well, he was going to have to get used to it. As the sun set farther down, he thought to maybe set up a bed for himself. He grabbed some of the vines and twigs from a big pile on the floor and dragged them to a chosen corner of the underground room. He knew that he should build a fire to warm himself up should the weather get too cold outside, especially after finding a convenient fireplace carved out of the dirt and out to above ground. He began to pile up some big twigs and find a way to light it…

When he heard people coming! He even heard them!

Oh no! How in the world was he going to get out of this?!?

Before he could even think of a good explanation, he was met with three more pairs of eyes staring right at him, two confused and the other inquisitive of the other two. Peter, Buckeye and Lively caught Foxtail invading their home, his tail whipping around in utter panic.

“Hey, what’s that behind you?” The lanky, black haired boy pointed to his tail. Peter had been looking there already, and Lively’s attention was drawn to it. He thought something else was behind him, but it was just rock and dirt. They were asking about his tail.

“Oh,” he replied awkwardly, not even noticing that the other boy just spoke English.

“It’s my tail. I’ve had it since I was a baby.” He held it proudly in his hand, the tip fidgeting in his right hand. Peter was fascinated by it.

“It’s as red as your hair! Like a fox’s! You have a fox tail! How amazing!”

“Yeah…it is.” No one had ever told him that.

“That’s why I like the nickname my…friends gave me. Foxtail.”

“Foxtail? Sounds perfect!” The girl skipped up to him, matching him in height, her shirt mixed with ram skin and weaved grass, passing down to her knees. She seemed to like his new name as much as the others liked his tail.

“Who…Who are you three, anyway?” He began to feel uncomfortable as she stood eye to eye, nose to nose.

“We are the ones who live here,” She said matter-of-factly, “before you decided to crash in.” The girl spoke as she stayed right in front of him to get a long look with her big eyes and thin unibrow.

“I mean,” He relaxed as she turned away and leaped into a cross-legged seating at her own pile of leaves.

“What are your names? You already know mine.”

“Well,” Buckeye began, pointing to each of them as he listed their names.

“I’m Buckeye,” He pointed to himself,

“She’s Lively,” She waved her right hand violently at him,

“And this is Peter,” He stood there gallantly posing for his own portrait.

“Don’t forget my last name, of course”, Peter said. He turned to the small, lanky, red-haired, tail-having boy in front of him and finished his name.

“Peter Pan is my name.”

Peter Pan? I know that name from somewhere…

Yet he couldn’t quite put a finger on it, and wouldn’t even care to, especially after the rumpus they had that night. They shared uncountable stories and jokes with him and not only accepted him as one of their own, but dragged him out of the burrow into more adventures in the pitch black forest, lit by two moons and a million stars. Thus was the beginning of his new life as a member of the family of Pan, a part of the Lost that never wanted to be found.

THE Only Review I hope to write on this blog: Pan

You all knew this was coming... I pushed it off for far too long. The movie has been a bane of my story's existence since it was first announced. I rushed it out to meet the film's October deadline, thinking that a marketing campaign could give my book the coverage it deserves/needs.

That one movie is Pan, directed by Joe Wright and written by Jason Fuchs (whom I am a friend with on Facebook, if that counts for anything). Based on the legendary works by J. M. Barrie, Pan takes place before he became Peter Pan.


One thing I can say is something along the lines of a metaphor; it's a piece of unripe Swiss cheese thrown into a UFC match, with no experience in fighting, yet beats the opponent when it realizes at the last second that they're allergic to cheese.

It barely makes sense. The movie has numerous plot-holes in the writing, be it in the story itself or in connection to the source material. How could the origin of a character take place after the book was written?
Better yet, who the hell predicted that "Smells like Teenage Spirit" or "Blitzkrieg Bop" would be sung in Neverland 30 years before they were recorded?
Why is Nibs the only lost boy mentioned in the beginning?
Why wasn't Wendy, John or Michael Darling involved?
Why does Peter love Mothers now?
Also, he cries when he's PETER PAN. He only does that when he's really desperate, like when he tries to reattach his shadow...
Also, WHEN DID NEVERLAND BECOME EVERY FANTASY WORLD EVER MADE... PROPHECIES?! ROYALTY?! When was he a prince?!

Also, pixel/fairy dust=fantasy world McGuffin/obtanium (Avatar)/ Gold (everything else)
and fairy hive=Avatar's big tree/El Dorado/ Treasure Island/ (insert treasure here)

Why put that in?! It didn't make sense to me before the movie, and it didn't make sense afterward...

Yet who am I to give a review for a movie that, even though it flopped at the box office, made more money than I can dream to make on one story? Who am I to critique a man whose work made it to the blacklist, one of the most coveted lists for potential movie scripts to be considered by movie companies, when I wrote only 4 drafts of a novel telling the same story?

It doesn't seem right to critique a film that so many people believed in from the start, yet people like me would try to tear it down as "devotees" to the source material. So I'll write about the good things in the movie. The references that I could catch felt very natural, except for the forced one-liners made famous by the book. Other little nods here and there were very appreciated and impressed me very much.

The props team deserve a raise. Goodness, the backgrounds and set-pieces felt authentic to a vision of Neverland only a man like Joe Wright could make.
And the special effects?!? HOLY COW! They were so immersive! That is, except for the flying scenes... then again I have no idea how a team could pull them off anyway without a green screen.

Then there's the acting... If my Peter Pan had brown hair and green eyes, I would be jealous of Warner Bros for finding Levi Miller first.

Personally, I would have taken out Captain Hook (Garrett Hedlund)'s part and just made Blackbeard (Hugh Jackman) Captain Hook because HOLY COW that guy would have been a PERFECT fit for Hook. Tiger Lily was definitely tolerable, unlike what others might think of her acting. It was a solid performance, just too bland for a character that I should be rooting for by the third act.

Speaking of which, I didn't feel any thrills for any of the characters, as most of them are crucial to the story of Peter Pan so they couldn't die. If they were going to go all out, change up the dynamic of all of the characters; kill some off, introduce new ones, make it up as you go along, I wouldn't care. I'm willing to see where it goes.

This movie doesn't do the source material justice, but that is no reason to bash someone for trying something new. Any part of human society must change at some point, even Peter Pan. I just don't think that this was the right vision for it.

When I found out that this movie flopped and was panned (pun intended?) by critics, I wasn't sure what to think. Celebrate the fall of my "competition"? To panic that no one will read the story after the lack of interest in an origin story? I had no idea.

After watching the movie I gained respect for people that dared to change things. To remake the story of the Boy Who Never Grew up in World War II is something commendable. Originality is hard to find in art, but to make a character your own is just as good as making them yourself.

I respect this movie's vision and I'm sad to miss out on what could have been with this potential franchise. Overall, nice on the eyes but soft on the mind. Everyone tried their best, and it definitely shows. Yet that doesn't mean the film is perfect. It just isn't the origin story I had imagined for the character, and I mean that sincerely. Don't believe me? Check out the newest edition of my book on Inkitt, then we'll talk.

If you were looking for a film score, like IGN or any standard critic, sorry to burst your bubble. I don't grade films. I just judge them on their merits. You be the judge. Let me know what you thought about Pan. Did you like it?

UPDATE: What was really spooky about the film was that it had elements I put into my own version.

They had evil Nuns with ulterior motives... Sister Deborah was evil in the early versions.

Peter cried a lot... Same here.

He doesn't believe in bedtime stories... my Peter was a colorless rag in a washing machine, just going through the motions with nothing to believe in.

It's weird to see the similarities in the film as well as the differences.

UPDATE 2: SECOND TO THE RIGHT's story involved a version of Peter Pan being shown, which inspires him to become Peter Pan... Not exactly the same reasoning as Pan, but the fact that the story took place after the book also allows for a weird connection between our version and the book.

Project Stingray Chapter 1- I Don't Wear Gold Teeth Cause Daddy Won't Waste His Money

The rough draft for the story I hope to make a full comic or book series. Here's chapter 1:

Admit it.

I'm a gangster.

You can't deny it.

Don't believe me?

Look at what I'm wearing today.

No, I'm not a slut. I'm a Gevra. Don't try to imagine the old-fashioned thermals and skinny jeans on me. There's no dress code at my school, so I wear short chic dresses and comfortable jeans because I can.

I wear shoes that girls would kill for. 

I even wear jewelry to school.

Don't believe me? I'm putting on my Niache Point Blank necklace right now.

Yeah, that's sterling silver, and I can wear it- because I can.

I'm untouchable at school. My territory is 9th grade and below. My sister takes care of the rest.

I'm my sister's favorite. Both of them.

Anyway, need further proof?

Look at where I live. I can see the whole downtown from my penthouse.

My parents could mess you up if you would like. Both ex-military and have enough connections throughout the city to do whatever they want.

How about this? I don't go on transit trains to school. I get a limo to drive me.

Want to get me while I'm sitting in there, sipping freshly squeezed juice while reading Snapout! and the latest chapter of the "Ballroom Philosopher"? Nope. The windows are bulletproof glass; and the driver's last vehicle was a tank.

Want even more proof? Than you're just being inattentive so pay attention.

I don't know what my parents do, but we could afford to bring in Echo Riley for my sister's 16th Birthday. ECHO RILEY! And we LOVE her! Not meaning to brag, but Sara was totally awesome on stage with her.

Watch me strut up the school like I own 1/4 of the place.

Watch me insult a girl's dress while we were both in front of the principal.

Watch the boys part ways in lust and the girls in shame.

Watch my grin never fade throughout the whole day.

This is my life. This is how it began and how it will end- with a large grin on my face that would make even senior boys swoon.

I am a freakin gangster. Deal with it.

Project Stingray

So this is going to be something completely different. I'm expanding my story-writing abilities to cover new genres and worlds. Neverland may be back soon, but for now, allow me to introduce you to Katrina Gevra.

She was a bully, with the whole 9th grade under her control and bidding. She wasn't a brute, nor a shallow model, rather a cunning and sadistic girl, one willing to pin a girl down with her high heels. Her inheritance would be everything she lay her green eyes on. She deserved it more than anyone else.

That is, until her older sister shares a secret that changes their lives forever.
Sara Gevra used her family's wealth and resources to make a supersuit for herself, complete with superstrength exoskeleton and jetpack. But she flew it not to save, but to raise hell. To bring her city into chaos so she could delightfully hear screams instead of echoes of boredom.
So when Katrina has the opportunity to save her city from itself, will she take it and maybe change herself as much as the world around her, or leave it to the authorities she already taught herself to defy?

Let me know what you think.

Rough Draft Chapter 2

By the time all of Buckeye’s baby teeth grew in, Peter’s new shadow had grown in and they had moved back into the burrow, as the house suddenly missed civilization and ran back to London. The boy with the dark skin grew into the grass pants- made by the Piccaninnies for him at a young age- until they cut off at the top of his knees. His vest was a badge of honor from his first kill. It smelled of tree sap and freshly cut grass.

He learned to live in the forests, to enjoy the touch of young leaves and to tend to the forest’s every need. If a tree fell down, he would scold the other trees for picking on it. He walked saplings in little prams to help them sleep at night. He even ran with the wind and swung through the vines like the apes in the canopy.  He went on new adventures with Peter, exploring every known nook and cranny of the island. With Peter’s imagination, they joined up with birds and flying fish, the young boy riding on Peter’s back, as they rocketed into space and played catch with the rings of Saturn.

Yet nothing could prepare them for what happened next. As they rode on the Orient Express past the Neverpeaks, Buckeye noticed something on the eastern ridges or rock, riding them like they were waves in the ocean. It looked like a boy from afar, with short hair and the slim body of a child.

“He’s stepping lively, Buckeye.”

“What’s ‘lively’, Peter?”

“Excited, I think.”

“Oh. Should we meet him?” He asked questions in Peter’s accent, but the language he learned first was that of the Picaninies, then English, so he spoke like a Red-face.

“I don’t see why not. Maybe he’s friendly.” Peter looked more curious than cautious, so they slowly trotted down the mountain to meet the new person on the island. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, as the sun signed a treaty to share the sky with the night. The water was cool and refreshing as it rushed away from them.

“Oy, person stepping lively!”

The person didn’t look behind them.

“Lively person!” Buckeye’s young voice didn’t resonate with them either.

They gave each other the cue. They guessed that calling them a person didn’t seem right. They had a name, after all. They guessed the next word that came to mind to be their name. They called it in unison.

“LIVELY!”

            The person turned around. Her delicate features and big eyes gave it away.

            It was a girl?! Since when did girls come to Neverland?!

Her eyes, the blue glinting as boldly as the sea, took in the sight of two boys on a high point. Two boys standing over her was never a good sign. She turned and ran away from them, gracefully jumping the narrow ridges like a terrified deer.

       “Wait! We won’t hurt you!”

They glided together across the valley as the girl sought refuge in the forest. Her short dress dragged assorted fabric behind her, catching onto every branch that reached out. She began to panic as she heard them running after her. It didn’t take her long to pull the whole dress off and bolt for the water, to possible refuge at the rock shaped like an ominous skull.

Her chasers didn’t know it, but she found a path of rocks that acted as a bridge between the rock and the rest of the island. They were right underneath the water’s surface, so to Peter and Buckeye, she was running on water. They stared in awe as she got closer and closer to the rock. She didn’t notice that Peter could fly, so she turned around to see where they were. Thinking she was safe, she teased at them before slipping on the rocks. Her head smacked against one as she bounced off into the water. Buckeye didn’t have to tell Peter to gather her in before she drowned in the rising tide.

He raised her limp body out and into the air as he floated like a heavy goose.

“Get to the tribe. I’m bringing her there.”

The dark haired boy nodded and rushed back inland, only to remember the ridges a moment too late. Luckily the northeast bridge was operational, so he slid upwards and climbed downwards to the Indian wall. He recited the password to the guard (“primmed”, meaning “ruined” in some other language), and arrived at the meeting fire by the time Peter was waiting with the injured girl.

Tiger Lily was tending to her while another girl, around Buckeye’s age, watched her mother apply a thin papery substance dipped in oils around the girl’s head, circling it around in a delicate fashion. Buckeye stood next to Peter, narrow brown eyes flickering over their new guest. Short matted honey-brown hair stuck through the bandages like grass, while small speckled cheekbones left her eyes room to grow bigger than usual.

By the time she awoke, fully dressed in some sort of grass tunic, she was surrounded by Savages, two boys and two sparkling lights that she registered as fairies. She didn’t know whether to scream, to stare at her saviors or protest against her captors. For a second she heard gibberish, then it turned into coherent words around her. All she knew was that she was chased by the boys at some point, but nothing else.

“…Wondered when Lively was going to wake up. She hit her head hard, Tiger Lily.”

“WHERE THE HECK AM I?!?”

Her voice pierced the sky. The people near her jumped away in shock. Birds flew away in chaotic patterns. London Zoo’s Gazelles looked up in alarm.

She sat up in one swift movement and fell in another. Her throbbing head gave a dizzying headache, but the bandages felt cool on the bump that shouldn’t be there. The woman they called Tiger Lily soothingly forced her head back on the fur pillow amidst shushing sounds.

“Rest, Lively. Your wound won’t last long. You’re amongst friends now. Just rest, Lively.”

She didn’t remember anything. Not even her own name. Yet Lively sounded like a good substitute. She fell back asleep while calling herself that, bringing a smile to her exhausted face.

Peter Pan & The Lost- Rough draft Chapter 1

This is the first draft for Peter Pan & The Lost, slated to come out in a few years. I hope you enjoy it!

...................................................................................................................................................................

Time had moved in where it shouldn’t have. Yet it was kicked out as fast as it came in. The same way that wounds heal, scars are mended, bruises lose their colour, so did Neverland. The burnt trunks slowly parted for new trees and flowers. The world of imagination repaired slowly and methodically, taking suggestions from the stars and other worlds aside from Earth.

It was on this reviving island, on the shoreline of one of the new beaches, that a shadowless Peter Pan stood alone. Even the boy who Never Grew Up changed with the island. His tunic of jay feathers and autumn leaves covered his torso in a mess of tangled reds, oranges and yellows, the Glider loyally at his right side, kept there by a mess of knots . The wind blew through his dark red hair as he looked to the star where his friends left. The sky was occupied by the sun and moon, the daylight and moonlight agreeing to share the sky of a deep blue mixed with purple, black and shimmering white.

The waves lapped at his feet as he forced down the urge to fly to them and bring them back. The train waited in the station for them, with fish bigger than horses at the sides. The blue and red fairies realized there wasn’t any reason to fight each other; there was nothing on the island that would eat them. He wanted to show them the changing world, even sand shifted around under his feet. But alas, he couldn’t fly until his shadow grew back. So he stared upwards.

He felt like he woke up from a bad dream. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt more like he was in a certain rush, like everything he had done went by too fast to really comprehend. He wasn’t in the mood to have an adventure, so instead he walked. Through the charred remains of the forest. To a friend’s hive, where she spent most of her time with her fellow flyer.

…

       They were busy making a happier color than yellow. Tinkerbell had a huge paint brush in her arms, swirling the colors of a nearby rainbow in a counter-clockwise fashion. She had taken off the yellow ribbon and tried adding various colors that glittered and made the birds flying by feel good about themselves. Fireflyer was admiring their work from afar while trying to get the Sun’s attention.

“Won’t you come see this? It’s the happiest color you’ve ever seen! You’d love it!”

The Sun looked apprehensively at how they were making the color. The rainbow didn’t seem to notice.

Peter could see his light shining high in the sky. He was too determined to find others that he forgot to grow his shadow back.

“Fireflyer, where’s Tink?” He shouted loud enough that even the Sun looked towards him.

“She’s flown away, Pan! Never to return.”

Peter gave an exasperated sigh. He learned from Slightly to not believe him. Why did I even bother?

“You’re such a liar, Fireflyer!”

He innocently bowed in midair as he returned to haggling with the sun to use the new color.

 He saw a blast of air whip across the sky, a rainbow missing its colors. It must have woken up. Tinkerbell rushed after it with a paint can.

“Wait! Wait! I can fix you! It’s what I do! I fix things! Wait!”

The rainbow rushed away in shame. A rainbow without its colors is like going to school in your undergarments. It is absolutely embarrassing.

Her disappointment was abated as soon as she saw Peter. He looked much different than the last time she cared to see him. Like he woke up from a sort of trance. She flew straight to his face, embracing him on his right cheek, her small body trying to cover all of the freckles on the side of his face.

He was immediately flooded with supernatural happiness as the two of them exchanged happy memories they each experienced away from each other.

What are you doing here, Peter?

I just came by to visit you.

Don’t you have something more fun to do? Neverland still needs mermaids and crocodiles. No one has taken care of that yet.

It was there, as the two of them talked in their silent language, at the cliffs overlooking a growing waterfall, that they both heard the crying. He immediately crouched down to hide in the thick grass of the plains, concealing his thin body, the fairy shivering behind him. In Neverland, children’s cries were as loud as a lion’s roar, so hearing one for the first time in what felt like forever startled them for a second. Then, after they realized what it was, he stood up quickly and called himself names one shouldn’t say out loud. Tinker Bell simply laughed at his stupidity.

The cry was of a child. A really young child.

Let’s go visit it. Maybe it’s friendly, he suggested as he climbed across the burnt out stumps and tree trunks. Tink, out of curiosity, followed with her husband not too far behind, as Peter strode under the huge rock formations and out to another field overlooking the sea beyond. There was still tall grass where the rocks blocked the fire, as well as a lone chestnut tree on an extended cliff overlooking a cliff. It was under that tree that the crying was located, and Peter knelt down towards the writhing dark colored flesh on the ground. It stopped crying the moment it laid its eyes on Peter Pan and the fairies.

It looked like a human baby, naked but for a loincloth around the waist, it’s big dark eyes staring right back at him. Peter wasn’t sure what to do as it reached for him, it’s chubby arms waving towards him like a madman, one hand clutching a spiky seed that didn’t seem to harm him.

Will it hurt us with that seed, Tink?

To Fireflyer, she laughed spontaneously.

Of course not, stupid imp. That’s a younger version of your kind. That’s nothing more than a baby.

As much he understood from her, all he could do was stare at it. It had been so long since he had to take care of a lost child, let alone a baby. Was he supposed to take care of it? How? He hadn’t done so in a long time.

Well, any other place was better than at the edge of the island, he thought, so he picked up the baby, in a matter almost by instinct, and carried it in his arms towards people who may know better. He knew that climbing the burnt hills of the forest was going to be harder with only one arm, but luckily he knew other ways.

Yet he never saw the boat that had washed up ashore sail out into the night the moment the baby was brought into the island.

…

“You were right to bring it here, Peter,” Chief Soaring Eagle methodically replied to Peter’s mysterious new visitor. He spoke in a deep, wise voice that gave him the impression of old age, even though he looked far younger. The weathered dark skin on his face allowed his red eyes to shine brighter than rubies in the light of the two fairies.

“You say there was nothing else next to the child?” He asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Not that I can recall. It was just lying there, with a buckeye seed in its hand. That’s all.”

The Chief turned back to him. “There is never something that is considered ‘all’. There’s always a reason for this. Tiger Lily,” He called in a yell which carried no of urgency. That was why Tiger Lily, his wife, only stuck her head out of her tent and did not come running out to the meeting fire.

“Please send for the Shaman.”

“I would, my love, but I am nursing your daughter.”

In any other world, this would have been seen as treason, but such was the behavior of Tiger Lily. The guts to even defy the Chief was why he loved her so much. She was as strong as him.

“Do not worry, Tiger Lily. I understand. Stay there.

“Peter, come with me. We’ll go to her and seek insight.”

They passed by the rows of Picaniny huts and shelters, surrounded by guards. The Shaman’s hut was snuggled between the soldiers barracks and the storage huts, where the harvest was drying atop reeds and wood.

As usual, there was smoke trickling from the chimney to mingle with the stars and sun above. Peter was allowed in only after the Chief explained the situation.

The Shaman sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by objects from nature and of man. Various animal skulls and crocodile teeth were scattered about, as well as a sapling, vines, jars of medicines and numerous dreamcatchers hanging from the makeshift rafters. The baby was laid out horizontally on her lap. She looked up at Peter Pan, smiled and said:

“I knew this day would come.”

The Chief looked behind to the boy only to see a look of confusion on his face. He turned to the Shaman and asked her to explain. All this time, the baby was focused on opening the little seed.

“The rebuilding, Peter. It’s going to happen soon.”

“What rebuilding?”

“The rebuilding of Neverland. The forest was never meant to stay black forever.”

“How do you know?” Peter asked abruptly.

The Shaman only exhaled audibly. “It’s not a prophecy, Peter. Just the balance of nature. Where there’s death, there must be life. Otherwise, what is the point of death?

“The Great War on Earth, the world closest to us, caused many bad dreams to come through. Dreams of death and destruction. Of broken hopes and childhoods destroyed. That was the reason for Neverland’s fall. This is cause for a celebration.”

She looked up and smiled at the two of them before returning to the needs at hand.

“Yet there’s still work that needs to be done. First a name…and the child has picked one out for himself.”

She plucked the seed out of his chubby hands and with one swift crack, released the buckeyes to the baby’s delight.

“Buckeye. That shall be his name.”

Buckeye eyed the old lady as he held one of the nuts in the corner of his mouth, trying to get to the fruit inside.

“Now,” She continued as she handed Buckeye to Peter. “This baby must be taken care of. Leave him here and we will raise him.”

She turned to Peter again, her wide brown eyes defying the wrinkles around them.

“But there will be others, Peter. Other lost ones that find their way to you. Find them and care for them.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Peter stood up straight, his arms crossed in front of him. He didn’t like being told what to do.

The Shaman couldn’t understand that. “Then you have no choice in the matter. You must find them before they die. You would need to bury them like you did so many others. Eagle, find a wet nurse for the child. Peter, go find them and bring them to us. When they are ready, you will show them the island and care for them. Unless you can do all of the work yourself…”

“Work?! Like grown-up stuff? No way.” Peter didn’t like the sound of that.

She chose her words more carefully after that blunder.

“Then you will make it an…adventure with the other children by your side. Now, go find your new…friends, Peter.” She smirked with satisfaction as the two of them exited her hut. The Chief, without uttering another word, went into his family hut, obviously binging the question to his wife, who knew much more about the women then he. Peter, on the other hand, walked slowly down to the forest. His house needed tending to.

There's more to Neverland than you think

I love the fact that Peter Pan's story can never end. It's just something so reassuring that no matter what I do, the story just continues. It's like a story I can never conclude. This is something so different than all of my other stories, that have story arcs and beginnings with consequential endings.

That's why I love writing about Neverland. Not because my interpretation could be lost to the sands of time, but rather that the story only can get enhanced by other people's takes on the source material, not "ruined", like what some nostalgic folk tend to say.

Even though "Pan" didn't do well, I still applaud them for their artistic vision and effort. It looked really good to see such imagination go to work on something that nice.

That being said, I have a big surprise for all of you!

The sequel for Second to the Right has begun. It will be called...

PETER PAN AND THE LOST !! (not in capital letters like that, but you get the point)

Hopefully it will be finished for the planned July 2017 release, but at least I started the character studies for all of the main characters (i.e. a chance for me to hone my drawing skills a bit before the writing) and the first chapter has been written in the first draft. Hopefully I'll get a lot done over the week or so of break that I have. I won't share it yet but I am extremely excited to show you what I have.
I know that the original book took 4 years to write, but let's see what I can do...

Thanks for the support y'all. SEE YOU IN THE SUNLIGHT!!

-Zach