I decided to turn chapter one of my Peter Pan story into a prologue.. Stuff is sort of coming together in my head. Going to jump ahead a bit once I hit chapter one; prologue’s a bit short, and I’m sort of reposting a big chunk of it, but here, my two darling readers, feast your eyes on my latest churned-out rubbish:
Thomas swan-dived out of the second story window. He flapped his arms frantically for a moment before plummeting to the ground, screaming.
Luckily for him, a friendly bush was waiting below to break his fall. He clawed his way out of it and flopped onto the manicured lawn, thinking, not for the first time, that this had happened for the last time. Thomas lay on his back – arms outstretched – and stared at the sky above him. He missed the stars; even here in suburbia, light pollution rendered the brightest of stars invisible. A light misty fog had descended on the neighborhood as well, further obscuring the night sky. Thomas frowned; a bright spot had raced across his field of vision. A shooting star, here?
No, Thomas thought to himself, not a shooting star. He rolled his eyes. She’s got a lot of nerve, showing her face here after what she’s just done.
Out loud, he called, “Come down here; you’ve got some explaining to do.”
The ball of light flickered but drifted slowly down and came to rest on Thomas’s chest. He lifted his head peered down at the light, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. “Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What have you got to say for yourself, Tinkerbell?”
The little faerie sneezed, scattering small specks of glitter across Thomas’s t-shirt. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the grass. Tinkerbell clambered to her feet and brushed off her dress. She clasped her tiny hands behind her back and hung her head, clearly ashamed.
“What was that?” Thomas asked. He sat up, and Tinkerbell tumbled down into his lap, squeaking in alarm. “Sorry, Tink. You were saying?” The faerie frowned up at him. “You’re apologizing? Tink, that’s not going to cut it any more! This has been happening way too often, lately; I need to know that I can count on you! … Yes, I know it was an accident, and – yes, of course I know faerie dust is tricky stuff but – what? Yeah, I’m ok; I fell into that bush over there.” Thomas rubbed his eyes.
“Look, just … try not to let it happen again, okay? I can’t go falling out of any more windows because I think I have faerie dust when I really don’t.”
He got to his feet, and Tinkerbell rose hovering to his shoulder. She landed there and placed a tiny hand on Thomas’s cheek to steady herself. The boy brushed some grass from his ripped jeans and kicked aside a pinecone with a booted foot. Tinkerbell could feel him shivering through his thin blue t-shirt.
The pair wandered silently down the quiet street, and then vanished into the fog.
. . .
“You know what we need, Tink?” Thomas asked. He was lounging sideways on an old armchair, legs hanging over one of the arms, picking at bits of stuffing escaping through the holes, talking more to himself than the faerie. Tinkerbell perched on the back of the chair, kicking her tiny heels against the faded upholstery. She wasn’t paying much attention to Thomas, but the boy didn’t seem to mind.
When she didn’t respond, Thomas went on. “People.” The faerie perked up her ears and began studiously examining her nails. Thomas continued voicing his thoughts. “It’s been a bit quiet around here, don’t you think? You know, not like it used to be. We used to have people here…” he said, trailing off. His brow furrowed, and he stared off into space, his eyes unfocused. Tinkerbell fluttered slowly down to Thomas’s knees and alighted there. She peered up into his pale, freckled face; his dark blue eyes stared back into her green ones.
“You’re exactly right, Tink,” Thomas said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Let’s go make some friends…”
