All Boys Grow Up
Who: Peter Pan
Where: Lobby
When: Afternoon turning to evening
What: Peter joins the fold
Peter swung his sword with battle lust in his eyes when suddenly they all heard the sound of battle up above. Pirates against redskins it sounded like. Everyone stood quiet waiting for a signal. Any signal.
The tom-tom sounded. “An Indian Victory!” Peter cried.
The boys said goodbye. John and Micheal said goodbye. Wendy even made him promise to take his medicine. But Peter laughed them off. What did he care if they wanted to find their mothers. He danced and played his pipes and fairly ignored them as they wriggled up their trees.
Peter continued dancing well after they left him. Finally, he flew one lap around the tree to make sure they were really gone.
He landed on sand.
Peter looked around for his tree. For the island. For anything familiar. Then he tried flying. He landed hard on the ground. “Happy thoughts. I need happy thoughts.” He tried to picture killing Hook, or flying with Tinkerbell, but all that came to mind was Wendy leaving him and taking all the lost boys with her.
He batted his eyes to keep the tears that threatened to come at bay. Taking another look, Peter saw a building up ahead. All pain left his mind as the prospect of another adventure sprang into his head.
Peter crept forward. The building looked abandoned. He tried to fly into a window, but that didn’t work. He was more curious than scared. So he opened the door.
“Welcome Peter Pan!” A voice called out to him.
Peter rushed forward with his sword drawn. “Where have you brought me?” he hollered.
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” the gentleman remarked coolly, looking completely calm with a sword drawn to his throat. “Here is your key and your room number. Enjoy your stay.”
The man disappeared.
Peter looked around him. Dead leaves noted his path from the door to the desk. He did have a tendency to leave them everywhere. So this wasn’t a dream. He tried to make-believe his way out because make believe was truth to him. He moved on to flying when that didn’t work.
“Fly,” he told himself. “It’s easy. Just think happy thoughts and then you can leave.” He jumped. He even made his way over to one of the couches and jumped. When he landed on the floor for the seventh time, his situation became apparent. Wendy had left him. John and Michael had left him. The Lost Boys had left him. He couldn’t find the Island. He couldn’t fly. And he was alone. Utterly alone. Peter folded his legs to his chest and cried.
Where: Lobby
When: Afternoon turning to evening
What: Peter joins the fold
Peter swung his sword with battle lust in his eyes when suddenly they all heard the sound of battle up above. Pirates against redskins it sounded like. Everyone stood quiet waiting for a signal. Any signal.
The tom-tom sounded. “An Indian Victory!” Peter cried.
The boys said goodbye. John and Micheal said goodbye. Wendy even made him promise to take his medicine. But Peter laughed them off. What did he care if they wanted to find their mothers. He danced and played his pipes and fairly ignored them as they wriggled up their trees.
Peter continued dancing well after they left him. Finally, he flew one lap around the tree to make sure they were really gone.
He landed on sand.
Peter looked around for his tree. For the island. For anything familiar. Then he tried flying. He landed hard on the ground. “Happy thoughts. I need happy thoughts.” He tried to picture killing Hook, or flying with Tinkerbell, but all that came to mind was Wendy leaving him and taking all the lost boys with her.
He batted his eyes to keep the tears that threatened to come at bay. Taking another look, Peter saw a building up ahead. All pain left his mind as the prospect of another adventure sprang into his head.
Peter crept forward. The building looked abandoned. He tried to fly into a window, but that didn’t work. He was more curious than scared. So he opened the door.
“Welcome Peter Pan!” A voice called out to him.
Peter rushed forward with his sword drawn. “Where have you brought me?” he hollered.
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” the gentleman remarked coolly, looking completely calm with a sword drawn to his throat. “Here is your key and your room number. Enjoy your stay.”
The man disappeared.
Peter looked around him. Dead leaves noted his path from the door to the desk. He did have a tendency to leave them everywhere. So this wasn’t a dream. He tried to make-believe his way out because make believe was truth to him. He moved on to flying when that didn’t work.
“Fly,” he told himself. “It’s easy. Just think happy thoughts and then you can leave.” He jumped. He even made his way over to one of the couches and jumped. When he landed on the floor for the seventh time, his situation became apparent. Wendy had left him. John and Michael had left him. The Lost Boys had left him. He couldn’t find the Island. He couldn’t fly. And he was alone. Utterly alone. Peter folded his legs to his chest and cried.