A New World Calls Across the Ocean...
Peter had woken up with the sun to slip out of the house and head towards the beach. The second island had been around for days now, nearly a week, and still he hadn't got to see it for himself. No one had agreed to take him over there, even though he was absolutely certain that he was much better suited for dangerous places than some of the people who'd been getting on the boats. For some reason, no one had taken notice (or, wisely, chose to ignore his insistences.)
It did not surprise him or confuse him that an island had sprouted out of the water overnight, as it would a normal child. Neverland had existed just for him, perfect and always in full bloom no matter what the season. To Peter, all islands behaved so capriciously. This may be because no one had mentioned to him that Britain itself was an island, for of course that was the stodgiest and most boring place in the entire world. Except, Peter was discovering, perhaps for math class when they were supposed to be working on sums.
This morning found him in the water up to his ankles gazing out at the island through his periscope. There were bits of wood and log piled up where he had left it last night, not yet starting to resemble anything like a raft. It needed a bit of work yet, but Peter was sure it would get him over there eventually. The raft was a work-in-progress yet, but he couldn't help looking at the place where, he was certain, all sorts of exciting and dangerous possibilities awaited him.
It did not surprise him or confuse him that an island had sprouted out of the water overnight, as it would a normal child. Neverland had existed just for him, perfect and always in full bloom no matter what the season. To Peter, all islands behaved so capriciously. This may be because no one had mentioned to him that Britain itself was an island, for of course that was the stodgiest and most boring place in the entire world. Except, Peter was discovering, perhaps for math class when they were supposed to be working on sums.
This morning found him in the water up to his ankles gazing out at the island through his periscope. There were bits of wood and log piled up where he had left it last night, not yet starting to resemble anything like a raft. It needed a bit of work yet, but Peter was sure it would get him over there eventually. The raft was a work-in-progress yet, but he couldn't help looking at the place where, he was certain, all sorts of exciting and dangerous possibilities awaited him.