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
No comments:
Post a Comment