Stingray- Because Some People Don't Get to Fall Onto Solid Ground

Morning woke up the city in a warm shake. By the time the sun had risen above the horizon, Katrina had been up and out of her queen sized bed and checking her phone to find out what happened since 12 am last night. She heard Sara rustle in her bed next door as Elibeth, their housekeeper, woke her up with a jolt of EDM on full blast from a Bluetooth speaker.

Her phone read off 158 new messages as she flash-showered, put on a cute outfit and colored her face to look a few years older. By the time she slipped on her new flickback heels, she had been caught up on all of the drama and problems surrounding her friends and had even added her own opinions to the multimedia chatroom they all shared. Some of the advice felt evil to give, but she always gave herself reasons for it. It was a popular-eat-popular world at her high school, even if she had inherited the chaos; she still had to earn it, even if it meant pruning the tree here and there. Yet there was one friend she truly loved. Her younger sister was a treasure Katrina would never give up. Sara was good and very resourceful, but Rhonda... Rhonda was too precious, too innocent, to allow others in. The thought of her being hurt in any way shook her bones in the worst kind of chill. 

On a different note, her phone gave an exciting notification beep. Her favorite media-cast updated with a new episode!

He called himself "The Ballroom Philosopher" and he gave insights on things she would never catch by herself. He sounded pretentious and overly complicated, but that was what drew her to him. Not that she had a crush on him -hell, she never even saw his face!- but that he spoke of truths only a 20-something year old guy could make while living in a one-bedroom apartment, wearing the same clothes more than once a week, and eating eggs and toast 2 meals a day. That lifestyle didn't interest her except in the chance that she might be able to learn more about life through him. So she listened to his 35-minute long daily podcast while oblivious to the beautiful world outside, on the way to school.

However, there was one thing she always did, even if she was running late and skipping breakfast to hop into the limo to school, not even to grab her homework...

...

Rhonda waited patiently as her best sister Katrina gathered up her knapsack, tablet and head-buds before saying goodbye to her. She kissed her gently on the forehead in the shape of an 'O', her favorite letter, before whispering her favorite words in her ear:

"I love you"

It was the only words Rhonda could say clearly. Yet they meant more to her than being able to say the whole dictionary.

The door closed behind her with a small click as she wobbled down the rest of the wooden stairs, her legs flailing underneath her. Elibeth helped hold Rhonda's fragile body as they slowly descended to the kitchen.

It had taken her only 30 minutes to get dressed to show Katrina her new favorite blouse-and-skirt, the one she had bought for her. Rhonda was so proud that she couldn't wait to wear it.

The youngest Gevra sister had to keep her eyes closed as she had woken up. The light of the morning stung her eyes like sharp needles and her lack of balance caused the world to spin around her. The only remedy she found best was to shake her head up and down while grinding her teeth. Sometimes it was too hard for her to violently shake that much, so she stopped and allowed herself to try and handle the pain. This would go on while Elibeth shut the blackout shades and dimmed the lights in the room.

As they lumbered into the kitchen, she knew to strap herself into her specialized high chair, complete with steadying gloves and gel-leg rests to help her erratic body calm down. The moment she felt secure inside of its warm embrace, she no longer felt like she fell through the air, constantly tumbling past clouds as the ground whipped across her view. Now at least she felt like she sat in a roller coaster- at least she felt protected. Elibeth prepared her breakfast as Rhonda practiced her breathing exercises and reviewed the day's plans. She was going to finish learning how to say those words and how to cut out and paste shapes onto their correct spaces so she can finally start learning other things.

But she was trapped. She could barely say anything. She could barely control herself. She wanted to scream out to Katrina, to Elibeth, to Sara, to her parents, that she wasn't weak. She wasn't out of control. That she was normal like everyone else. But she just had a few more roadblocks to deal with than others, a few more kinks in her system that needed to be fixed.

But when her head wasn't spinning, the light piercing her skull, sounds ringing in her ears, the feeling of the ground overwhelming her legs, she tried to practice her basic ABC's. She couldn't get past "Q", no matter how hard she tried.

Maybe that will change today.

If only she could make a way for her mind to speak for herself, instead of needing a mouth...

Even with all of those problems, she still enjoyed her oatmeal, no matter how plain it was, trying as hard as she could to keep control of her hand from feeding the bib tied around her neck. She gulped down her strawberry-banana smoothie, even though most of it missed her mouth, and grumbled as best as she can to say "Thank You" to Elibeth.

"Drrrnku"

Thank you.

"'Mrtgonuuuu."

I'm ready to go now .

Thankfully, Elibeth learned how to help people like Rhonda, especially when the youngest Gevra was just a young girl. She lovingly unstrapped her and held the little girl safely to her chest, as she slowly led her to the classroom next door to continue their lessons.

Stingray- And now for the news...

This should be read like a play...

ANNOUNCER: This is WBZRK, news at 6am! Bringing you all the news that matters to you, without all of the anxiety and stress that comes with normal broadcasts.

MONICA HOROWICZ: Thank you for tuning in. I'm the substitute reporter for this morning. Mary Mackentyler is off tonight for a well deserved break. Her Instagram album sure shows a lot of fun in the sun!

Our first story comes out of Downtown -the place on the south of town for anyone who's triggered by slang speech that's never explained-, where a poor man was taken into safer custody as he tried to forcefully borrow some produce from Stanley's Grocer. The produce was slightly damaged,but it's okay since it was recycled for fertilizer for Stanley's own palm tree.

(Camera pans to the palm tree, slightly wilted to one side but more or less undamaged.)

Such a beautiful palm tree huh? Stanley himself said that he was slightly shaken up but will receive counseling for his newly diagnosed PTSD.

(Camera pans back to MONICA)

We'll be back after these messages.....

COMMERCIAL ANNOUNCER:    IF YOU'VE BEEN INJURED IN AN ACCIDENT, A FALL, AN ARGUMENT, YOU MAY BE ENTITLED TO MORE THAN JUST MONEY. CALL 1800GETBACK FOR RECOVERY FROM THE FOLLOWING  DISORDERS OBTAINED BY THESE INCIDENCES:

PTSD- SOCIAL MEDIA, SOCIAL ANXIETY DISORDER-FAMILY OUTINGS, PERSONALITY DISORDER-CAR ACCIDENTS, IDENTITY CRISES-GETTING FIRED, LACK OF AFFECTION -ARGUMENTS WITH A PARTNER,
AND MORE!

JOHNSON, REECKO AND GEFFNER ARE HERE FOR YOUR MENTAL DISORDERS AND THERAPY NEEDS. WE DON'T ASK FOR MONEY UNTIL YOU HAVE FULLY RECOVERED AND GOTTEN WHAT YOU FULLY DESERVE. CALL 1800GETBACK NOW. THE CALL IS FREE AND THE CONSULTATION IS FREE. CALL 1800GET BACK NOW.

(Commercial ends. Camera turns back on to MONICA)

MONICA: Welcome back. Now let's check in with our upcoming weather report, sponsored by Paradise recovery centers. Here to tell us is Richard Prytweller.

RICHARD: Thank you Monica. Judging by these winds and cloud formations, it looks like there will be some rain- but don't worry people. For those scared of rain, we are giving you plenty of time to get your rain gear, as it's coming in two days. For those scared of the clouds before it rains, we urge you to call a therapist if your anxiety starts acting up. The winds will be slow -around 1 1/2 miles per hour, so it will feel more like a soft breeze than anything else more violent. That's the forecast over the next two days but when we come back, we'll tell you when the SUN returns!

MONICA: GREAT! The sun's coming back!! Can't wait!

RICHARD: Me neither Monica! Back to you!

MONICA: Thank you Richard. We'll get back to his full weather forecast soon, but first a special report.

ANNOUNCER: THIS SPECIAL REPORT IS SOMETHING GOOD I'M SURE.

MONICA: Not today, Announcer. For those that get triggered by this, we urge you to call a therapist.

A masked character was spotted on police surveillance as it seemed to demolish some traffic lights and street lights to cause a major accident on the throughway. No one was seriously injured but it did cause traffic to halt to a standstill throughout the past few hours.

As well, a whole street downtown has been shaken up since last night after a masked infiltrator caused hundreds of dollars in damage to cars, trees, a mailbox and manhole covers. No one has identified the person but they appeared to fly away afterwards on what looks to be a jet back. We'll have more information as it develops, but for now, let's check back in with Richard on when the SUN comes back... 

Stingray- This is More Fun Than Banging My Head Against a Wall

My teachers all think I have ADHD. Some of them think I have something called Anti-social personality disorder. My nanny makes me take adderall every morning with orange juice. While Katy submerges herself with her favorite articles on the web as we drive to school in our limo, I just look out the window at the others on the streets. Sometimes I wonder what their stories are, what their goals are and what their lives are like. Other times I wonder how their lives suck, how they fell to where they did; even how easy it would be to seduce them into going to that bad place- to where they'd be willing to throw it all away for fantasy.

I work on my evil sneer sometimes when I look in the mirror. Look, I'm not a villain. I'm nothing like the ones I hear about on the news. I hear of people like the Joker, Harley Quinn, green goblin and others on the news all of the time. I could never be like them. Ever. Trust me.

I'm just bored. Yep. I'm just bored. I feel like the champion of a video game, like I mastered every single level already and I've reached my prime. Now I just keep thinking about how to make the most of it.

So I cheer on both sides of the fight, even if it felt like our own private fight club, with the grunts and punishing blows exchanged under the amber lights of the parking lot.

Katy and Elibeth know that I go to hang out by my friends' houses afterwards. My parents, even while serving in other countries, know that I come home late, with my work done and my outfit untouched.

But they know nothing about this. We cheer and drink as the boys fight. We splash them with water between breaks. Girls even try to intimidate the other by necking boys in front of them. It's a mess. A glorified mess. Yet the only mess I'm truly interested in is the one between my legs.

My duffel bag, you sicko. Once the fight is done (no one really cares who won) and we all retire to one of their houses to listen to Slackhorse Nifty's EDM experiments sprinkled with even more gossip and laughter, I bade my time. I bade my sweet time while following the currents of what everyone wants to do. Sometimes the city is ours; other times it's just mine.

The party ends late every night, but I have a ride bring me home, all the while with my engraved Engrini Sofle duffle bag close by. Yet I don't come home yet. They aren't expecting me home. I learned to break the rules only when they find no proof that I did. So I ride up past the penthouse, up to the roof, past the water towers and solar panels and pull it out like a prized possession.

It looks like equipment from a forgotten sport. The suit is a mash-up of spandex, kevlar and speedo, a weird combination I got from a shady friend who had connections. I fold my clothes neatly and slip into the familiar cloth, without a care that I just publicly changed clothes atop the highest tower in the city. I strap on the marastrike 480 propulsion kit to my back, its 45 pounds weighing me down, with only the promise of it holding me up in a few seconds. As I slip on my trikkity three-sixty biker helmet, I begin to feel my life slip out from underneath me- in a good way. After finally finding something to do, my heart beats out of my chest. This isn't the first time I've done this though. This has become a ritual for me, to do something extraordinary.

As I fly, I think of myself as a psycho with wings. And it feels good. So I raise hell.

Why?

Because I'm bored. And I need something to do.

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

Stingray Chapter 2- Unnamed

I wish my sister would stop grinning like that. I swear, if she flashes her teeth, she looks like the Joker. Really. She has the features around her mouth, just in much softer tones than him. Although I can't help but wonder why he acts like that. Literally tries to set fire to Gotham every time he breaks out of that stupid asylum.

Whatever. She's cool anyway. She latches on to me like a leech, but instead of sucking away the good, she's getting rid of the bad. I look at her and see myself when I was her age. So young and reckless- I love that.

Hang on a second. There's this girl trying to get a seat at our table, licking her chops like she had just given head to some jock on the football team. Like that was a VIP pass now.

"Move away from our table, you dirty skank. Just because you blew Thomas doesn't give you a right to sit with us. Get your sexed up face out of mine you hook."

That's better. She was stinking up the place anyway.

As I take a bite out of some lame excuse of a lunch I launch right back into the juicy gossip swidling around me at our little table at the far left corner of the huge lunchroom.
What are the other girls talking about again?

"...So Tommy, like the loser he is, is trying to get back with Zoey but Alex already got to her. He found out the hard way."

Right. Tommy. Melissa's ex-boyfriend. Like really ex-boyfriend. Like he-wanted-nudes-before-the-second-date-desperate-material ex-boyfriend.

"When's the fight?"

"Tonight, in the parking lot when the principal leaves."

Fights were always an exciting time for her. We got to see a few dumb jocks duke it out on top of asphalt. Shirts would be torn, sweat will glisten on their bulky bodies, blood will be drawn...

"Speaking of parking lots, oh my G-d," Spener spoke out loud, his chin quivering without an ounce of self-control.

"Look at Katie's thermals. They look like she rubbed them on the asphalt before walking in."

"Ha! More like tried fitting into them first!"

After Kim's additional comment, we laughed long and proud. Who was going to stop us? Between all of us, our parent's ran the school, owned companies, won numerous military awards and accolades and single-handedly monopolized the divorce lawyer market. Who would dare stop us?

I sigh loudly, a trademark of mine, somehow even drowning out the bell for class.

Man, what a time to be alive.

"Sara, you deaf? C'mon girl," Kim called to me, waking me from another perfectly good trance. "Bell rang. Let's go."

As we leave the massive room together, I toss the remainder of whatever lunch that was into the garbage, disregarding the recycle signs. All I can think about is the fight that's going to happen. No wait, that's only the first good part; the best will be happening after that...

As the gossip and selfies flutter around me like beautiful butterflies, I get a glimpse of my own Katy before heading into my own classroom(Katrina hates that I call her Katy, but it's a cuter name, right?). She's in the back of her classroom, wearing that cute shirt and jeans combo and laughing with a bunch of my own friends' siblings. That girl is going to take over the school, I'm sure. And she'll enjoy every moment of it.

Every evil,

nasty,

horrible,

wonderful part of it.

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Peter Pan and The Lost Sample Chapter 4

She woke up surrounded by the smells of fish and algae, while her dark hair stuck to the round edges of her face and scattered over the rocks. Her legs ached in a satisfying way. The young girl gathered herself at the edge of a lagoon, the blue-green water steaming like smoke over fire. As she groggily stood up on the rocks, she could see shapes in the water, like ones dolphins make near the surface. As she took in the world around her, she had a feeling that it wasn’t home.

 As she climbed up the rocks to get a closer look, she noticed the shadow of a high cliff overlooking the lagoon. A trickling stream fell off the edge like a child into their father’s arms. The cliff had apparently lost rocks over the years, so she stepped on the huge rocks protruding from the underside.

Curiously, she was still wearing her bathing suit, a one-piece with maroon and yellow stripes down her body, like a colourblind Zebra. She felt rather uncomfortable after wearing it for what seemingly felt like days. She vaguely remembered her trip with her Aunt Bertha to Kensington Garden’s pond, where she loved to swim. Yet her Aunt had brought someone new along and didn’t want to spend time with her that much. Somehow she found a new island in the center of the pond inhabited by birds, including tiny flamingoes…

Which she now realized had grown so tall, their heads poked above the clouds! Their enormous pink feathers blew in the winds above as pillar-like legs shuffled the water, their backs carrying a body of water that swayed with each step.

Lagoons, on top of flamingoes! But that’s not possible…

She stared upwards until she heard another voice call to her-

“Maple! What are you waiting for? The water is fine!”

Turning down in surprise, she saw a girl waiting for her at the mouth of the lagoon, someone older than her with a beautiful shell in her hair. Her eyes were wide and blue, with sharp cheekbones that gave room for gills and slits for where a nose should be. Her pale webbed hands folded in front of her, gripping onto the moss.

A mermaid…

She knew it was a mermaid, and that it knew her name. Then she remembered thinking that the island could use a mermaid or two, or three. Suddenly, she saw two other equally gracefull mermaids jump through the water in glee, as if they had returned hom from a long trip away. She looked down as more of them waited for her, their tails flapping happily beneath the water, the sun illuminating the colours in their barnacled hair.

As she stepped away from the cliffs, she jitter-bugged to the edge of a diving board. She used to do that by the ocean, but now she had no smelly saltwater to worry about. Without a second thought she shimmied off the edge into a perfect dive over their heads.

The lagoon had bathed in sunlight enough to make the water perfectly warm. She swam up for a breath as the other mermaids surrounded her in friendly circles. Maple knew that mermaids were magical, and this time she was the reason they existed. She had seen them hatch from their unprotected eggs and led them to the sea. They even considered her royalty amongst their kind, as they never saw a human before. How many girls would reject the offer to become a mermaid princess? Surely Maple wouldn’t turn that down. She even gave them names; Madeline, Dolphin, Silverfin, Azure and Sirena (a word she learned from her friend).

Her strokes were clumsy compared to the grace of the mermaids. As she swam faster, she forgot about Aunt Bertha and her whiny boyfriend Johanns. They found underwater caves and played underwater tag. They flew with the fish, her new friends helping her swim faster than she ever though she could, her legs pumping with their powerful tails. Now she remembered why her legs hurt. Sirena held her shoulders as they streaked across the waters of Neverland, in what could only feel like a dream. Only when they suddenly stopped did she wake up; the fact that she didn’t have a stopping system like the mermaids caused her to skip on the water’s surface like a smooth stone.

“Oh no! Maple!”

Flipper dived down after her, but she couldn’t find her. Only Azure had the idea to look up at the shoreline, the place their domain ended.

Maple looked up in a furious daze, forcing her brain to stop moving. She stood up and took in her surroundings again, this time with the light of the sun constantly smacking her eyes shut. After shooing it away with her hand, she finally took in the warm sand curling around her toes, the breeze churning the leaves of the palm and oak trees and the neverending stretch of beach covering the island like the cover of a beautiful picture book.

She never expected to see other humans here, yet there they came. Two of them and a third flying-

A person was flying?! She had never seen that before.

Then the flying one sped at her at top speed, a sword glinting in the light.

She knew what it was like to see someone wield a weapon at her. It never ended well.

“Maple!! Come back to the water! Now!”

Dolphin crawled up to the shore, her powerful arms pulling like a sea turtle. She heeded her advice without second guessing. She was safely in the water in time to seek cover amongst the mermaids.

It’s never been documented what a mermaid looks like when in danger, but when their favorite human is threatened, they don’t swim away quietly.

They snarled at pitches only a crocodile could match in ferocity. Their mouths extended downward, exposing many rows of ripping teeth. Their eyes expanded as their gills inflated to double their size. Their tails found a balance in the water, standing on the water itself to a frightening 6 feet above.

Yet Peter stood his ground, facing them with the Glider poised in his favourite form; sword extended in his left hand with his right petting the air behind the ear. Lively, Buckeye and Foxtail stopped running and stared at the spectacle only a few feet in front of them. Only Lively could speak through the standoff.

“What are you? Some kind of fish?”

Madeline turned directly toward her, massive blue eyes meeting hers.

“We are neither, human! We are Mermaids, denizens of Neverland and ruled by the gentle and talented Maple! You touch her and you’ll suffer a slow death beneath the depths!”

Lively contemplated those words aloud, in her typical fashion.

“So you’re mermaids. Got it. But who’s Maple?”

“The girl you just scared into the water!”

Maple raced up to the surface gasping for air. Her fear compressed her lungs and didn’t allow enough air to get in. Lively ignored Azure as she talked to the girl.

“Oy, Maple, right? Can you get your friends to stop trying to attack Peter? He didn’t mean to do that.”

She waded in the blue water, surrounded by her aquatic bodyguards, with the advantage in her favour.

“And why should I do that? You’ll just kill me when my guard is down.”

The mermaids hissed in unison. Lively stepped back while motioning to Buckeye to step in. By the time he could gain composure, the mermaids whisked her away, the biggest one carrying her on its dorsal fin.

They all stared in unison as the mermaids sunk beneath the blue waters, their splashing turning to waves at their feet.

“Why did you do that for?! How could you not tell that she was a grown up?” Lively stormed up to her mentor, blood rushing to her cheeks as sand covered her feet with each step.

He just shrugged his freckled shoulders, the sunlight illuminating a halo of red around his head.

“She was so far away. How was I supposed to know?” He turned away and started building a castle out of the sand, Buckeye and Foxtail joining him soon afterwards. He was about to put the tiles on the roof when he noticed that she wasn’t helping. She just stood there, her usually animated arms tightly folded against her chest.

“What’s wrong, Lively? Why don’t you join us? There’s still a water closet to build.”

She never understood how he worked like that, going from one task to another without caring about what just happened. As she forgot about the whole ordeal and helped build the chimney, she never saw the boy watching from the other side of the islet, with a crocodile not too far behind him.

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.