Chapter 3: Pixie Dust

There never was a cockier boy. And yet, his cockiness was one of his most fascinating qualities. Something about him- how he would look at you only for an instant while you spoke to him, or how he always seemed rather distracted while in your company- things that would normally make you upset only drew you in deeper. I silently admired the boy. His spirit and enthusiasm- I noted that he had a special spark about him when something interested him.

The boy was indeed quite special, and he certainly knew that of himself. But it caused the rest of us to grow only more intrigued by this Peter Pan.

He was a puzzle that I was determined to solve. Perhaps it was I that was the missing piece? But I am afraid that I am getting ahead of myself.

Pixie Dust. It is the kind of magic that causes the seasons to turn. It is the kind of magic that creates images and ideas in your thoughts. It can bring many things to your remembrance, but it can also twist the truth of the past or cause you to forget it altogether. It is the magic that brings storybook characters to life. The magic that causes- or rather, encourages- images to leap off of the pages of your favorite stories and taunt you in your dreams. It's the kind of magic that you can feel all around you, but the moment that you question it, it disappears. It is the very root of excitement and adventure. Magic. Perhaps it was this magic that gave the boy that special zest for life. But it was also by this very same magic that Peter Pan was able to fly.

Sincerely Yours,

Wendy Moira Angela Darling

Chapter 2: The Kiss

The way he that spoke of girls, it was as if he had lived for a hundred years and had never met one, but had only learned of them in stories (although he claimed not to know any stories). I suppose, as the only women he had ever associated with were fairies, that he had learned to cherish human women as gentlemen do in fairy tales. He had, after all, referred to himself as a gentleman, and this gentleman spoke of women in such a way that their worth seemed much more than that of all the pirates' treasure in the world.

"Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

A kiss. Perhaps it was from those same stories that I had learned of the power of a kiss. I had always admired the kiss that awoke Sleeping Beauty from her eternal slumber. I had imagined the kiss that arose Snow White from her Sleeping Death. Could a kiss actually save a life? The question had pecked at my young mind like a needle to a pincushion.

Although this was no matter of life and death, I truly admired the way he spoke of girls, and I desired to thank him properly. It was then, Reader, that I acquired the courage to kiss that Peter Pan.

He had expected a gift of some kind. How very like a boy! I consented to place a thimble in his outstretched hand so as to not abruptly crush his excitement. He returned the favor with a sweet, innocent gesture: an acorn button.

A kiss from Peter Pan. This, Reader, was the kiss that saved my life.

Sincerely Yours,

Wendy Moira Angela Darling

Chapter 1: Faith and Trust

I hope you understand, Reader, that when I first took that Peter Pan's hand, I most certainly did not expect the magic to occur. I somehow was lost in the mind of a naive, smitten young girl and found myself once again upon entering the Neverland. However, by then it was much too late for the wise Wendy to stop her foolish self from getting into trouble!

Mother had asked me about Peter, you know. But of course, I, being the child that I was, thought nothing of the matter. I was quite oblivious to the danger that I had put myself into in following the boy.

 

That's the trouble with feelings, Reader. One often makes the most childish of mistakes in a moment's weakness to her feelings.

Perhaps it were better if humans had no feelings at all. No man would ever argue, nor woman ever cry. Unreasonable actions would have no original influence. The world would be quite a peaceful place. But you see, Reader, the world would also be quite a miserable place, although no person would ever have a way of knowing it. If one does not experience sadness, how ever is she to appreciate happiness? I believe this is why we must experience feelings, dreadful as they are on occasion.

This is why Peter Pan seemed so wonderful, I suppose. I was guided to the open window solely by my feelings of faith and trust. His eyes extruded an innocence that I had never before seen, and yet within these same eyes was just the right amount of bravery, confidence, and courage. But there was a deep, hidden sadness also within them that I was determined to change. His encouraging whispers were impossible to ignore, and his bright smile was positively irresistible. My young heart eagerly accepted the boy's requests, and my feelings for him grew only fonder.

This was only the beginning of my journey, Reader.

Sincerely Yours,

Wendy Moira Angela Darling