Categories > Books > Peter Pan
"At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back to her childhood she remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened."
-- J. M. Barrie
Lili woke one night when Peter stirred from the bed. He was half way across the great room towards his tree when she untangled herself from the bedclothes. As he disappeared up his tree, curiosity got the better half of her and she followed.
Once outside, the boy was lit with the blue light of the full moon. He stood, head thrown back sightless eyes staring at the cold moon. Some nights on the Neverland were happy and safe feeling. That feeling was not present tonight, wyrding was on the air, and when Peter moved forward on silent feet, Lili followed, her chest aching as if some giant hand was crushing her heart.
Peter stopped at a medium sized clearing in the jungle. It was lit with more of the pale blue moonlight, and he walked slowly to the centre of the glen. He stood, yet again with his head thrown back, as if he could listen to the moon.
Slowly it became clear that something was happening. Peter began, ever so slowly to glow, the blue luminosity fleeing slowly to be replaced with golden light. When he shone like a captive sun, he looked straight forward to where Lili stood in the shadows of the forest. But before Lili could move, a voice ran out.
"Boy, do you still refuse?" called the voice in bell tones.
"Yes."
"Then serve your purpose."
Tears rolled down Peter's cheeks as a pinhole opened over his head and slowly widened. As it grew larger, light spilled forth, filling the clearing to the edges. Voices, wailing cries, murmurs filled the air.
Peter stood, crying silently amid all the noise, and he glowed an even gold. Slowly, the air seemed to solidify, forming ghostly silver children. They were of all ages, from wailing infants being held in the small arms of a five year old, to older, nearly grown children of twelve or thirteen. They were dressed differently, from kimonos to suits to frilly dresses to torn jeans and tee-shirts.
In short, each shimmering silver child wore what they had to their funeral. And the expressions on their faces were all the same. Fear.
Peter spun in a complete circle, taking in every child that crowded the clearing. Then he rang out in his best captain's voice, "Why are you crying?"
Replies were myriad and each drowned out the next until the glen was a cacophony of thin voices. Peter held up a hand, and immediately got silence from the ranks of the dead. "Don't be afraid. I can show you the way home." And he began to dance.
Words cannot describe what Lili beheld, it was all and nothing. But what can be said is that with each step, with every move, Peter lightened the air. He touched every child, and with that he absorbed a piece of darkness. He gave up the childish joy that was his lot in life to these children because they had lost it. And the trade-off wasn't fair, the darkness contained information. By the end of the dance, the children could laugh again, and it was the full bodied sound that children have until live bleeds the joy from us, teaching us to laugh more quietly.
Peter returned their innocence, but the price was knowing what had happened. He lost his own.
His greatest strength was his weakness. He could not grow up. He would never lose his first laugh. To keep his youth, he gave up his innocence time and again to give back their innocence. He had to face being adult, see what he was missing and turn his back on it. He got to stay behind while everyone else went on.
Yes, he forgot what he saw. But in a way, that was worse. He got to bleed all over again each time he paid the price for his immortality.
The hole to heaven closed, the children gone. Peter lay on the ground sobbing.
Lili finally moved, and gathered him in her arms, rocking him.
"How can people do that to each other? They never did anything..."
"People are sick, Peter."
"I can't stop either. I can't grow up, even if I want to. Who would do this?"
"You're not alone anymore. I promise I'll stay, even if you forget me."
"I'll love you forever. Even if I forget, no matter what I say, I do."
Wendy was right all those years ago, it was Peter's biggest pretend that he wanted to remain a boy forever. He would have given almost anything to escape this punishment. But he loved what he was, and couldn't abandon the children to despair. Even when he got to see the good things he was missing.
"At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back to her childhood she remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened."
-- J. M. Barrie
Lili woke one night when Peter stirred from the bed. He was half way across the great room towards his tree when she untangled herself from the bedclothes. As he disappeared up his tree, curiosity got the better half of her and she followed.
Once outside, the boy was lit with the blue light of the full moon. He stood, head thrown back sightless eyes staring at the cold moon. Some nights on the Neverland were happy and safe feeling. That feeling was not present tonight, wyrding was on the air, and when Peter moved forward on silent feet, Lili followed, her chest aching as if some giant hand was crushing her heart.
Peter stopped at a medium sized clearing in the jungle. It was lit with more of the pale blue moonlight, and he walked slowly to the centre of the glen. He stood, yet again with his head thrown back, as if he could listen to the moon.
Slowly it became clear that something was happening. Peter began, ever so slowly to glow, the blue luminosity fleeing slowly to be replaced with golden light. When he shone like a captive sun, he looked straight forward to where Lili stood in the shadows of the forest. But before Lili could move, a voice ran out.
"Boy, do you still refuse?" called the voice in bell tones.
"Yes."
"Then serve your purpose."
Tears rolled down Peter's cheeks as a pinhole opened over his head and slowly widened. As it grew larger, light spilled forth, filling the clearing to the edges. Voices, wailing cries, murmurs filled the air.
Peter stood, crying silently amid all the noise, and he glowed an even gold. Slowly, the air seemed to solidify, forming ghostly silver children. They were of all ages, from wailing infants being held in the small arms of a five year old, to older, nearly grown children of twelve or thirteen. They were dressed differently, from kimonos to suits to frilly dresses to torn jeans and tee-shirts.
In short, each shimmering silver child wore what they had to their funeral. And the expressions on their faces were all the same. Fear.
Peter spun in a complete circle, taking in every child that crowded the clearing. Then he rang out in his best captain's voice, "Why are you crying?"
Replies were myriad and each drowned out the next until the glen was a cacophony of thin voices. Peter held up a hand, and immediately got silence from the ranks of the dead. "Don't be afraid. I can show you the way home." And he began to dance.
Words cannot describe what Lili beheld, it was all and nothing. But what can be said is that with each step, with every move, Peter lightened the air. He touched every child, and with that he absorbed a piece of darkness. He gave up the childish joy that was his lot in life to these children because they had lost it. And the trade-off wasn't fair, the darkness contained information. By the end of the dance, the children could laugh again, and it was the full bodied sound that children have until live bleeds the joy from us, teaching us to laugh more quietly.
Peter returned their innocence, but the price was knowing what had happened. He lost his own.
His greatest strength was his weakness. He could not grow up. He would never lose his first laugh. To keep his youth, he gave up his innocence time and again to give back their innocence. He had to face being adult, see what he was missing and turn his back on it. He got to stay behind while everyone else went on.
Yes, he forgot what he saw. But in a way, that was worse. He got to bleed all over again each time he paid the price for his immortality.
The hole to heaven closed, the children gone. Peter lay on the ground sobbing.
Lili finally moved, and gathered him in her arms, rocking him.
"How can people do that to each other? They never did anything..."
"People are sick, Peter."
"I can't stop either. I can't grow up, even if I want to. Who would do this?"
"You're not alone anymore. I promise I'll stay, even if you forget me."
"I'll love you forever. Even if I forget, no matter what I say, I do."
Wendy was right all those years ago, it was Peter's biggest pretend that he wanted to remain a boy forever. He would have given almost anything to escape this punishment. But he loved what he was, and couldn't abandon the children to despair. Even when he got to see the good things he was missing.
-- J. M. Barrie
Lili woke one night when Peter stirred from the bed. He was half way across the great room towards his tree when she untangled herself from the bedclothes. As he disappeared up his tree, curiosity got the better half of her and she followed.
Once outside, the boy was lit with the blue light of the full moon. He stood, head thrown back sightless eyes staring at the cold moon. Some nights on the Neverland were happy and safe feeling. That feeling was not present tonight, wyrding was on the air, and when Peter moved forward on silent feet, Lili followed, her chest aching as if some giant hand was crushing her heart.
Peter stopped at a medium sized clearing in the jungle. It was lit with more of the pale blue moonlight, and he walked slowly to the centre of the glen. He stood, yet again with his head thrown back, as if he could listen to the moon.
Slowly it became clear that something was happening. Peter began, ever so slowly to glow, the blue luminosity fleeing slowly to be replaced with golden light. When he shone like a captive sun, he looked straight forward to where Lili stood in the shadows of the forest. But before Lili could move, a voice ran out.
"Boy, do you still refuse?" called the voice in bell tones.
"Yes."
"Then serve your purpose."
Tears rolled down Peter's cheeks as a pinhole opened over his head and slowly widened. As it grew larger, light spilled forth, filling the clearing to the edges. Voices, wailing cries, murmurs filled the air.
Peter stood, crying silently amid all the noise, and he glowed an even gold. Slowly, the air seemed to solidify, forming ghostly silver children. They were of all ages, from wailing infants being held in the small arms of a five year old, to older, nearly grown children of twelve or thirteen. They were dressed differently, from kimonos to suits to frilly dresses to torn jeans and tee-shirts.
In short, each shimmering silver child wore what they had to their funeral. And the expressions on their faces were all the same. Fear.
Peter spun in a complete circle, taking in every child that crowded the clearing. Then he rang out in his best captain's voice, "Why are you crying?"
Replies were myriad and each drowned out the next until the glen was a cacophony of thin voices. Peter held up a hand, and immediately got silence from the ranks of the dead. "Don't be afraid. I can show you the way home." And he began to dance.
Words cannot describe what Lili beheld, it was all and nothing. But what can be said is that with each step, with every move, Peter lightened the air. He touched every child, and with that he absorbed a piece of darkness. He gave up the childish joy that was his lot in life to these children because they had lost it. And the trade-off wasn't fair, the darkness contained information. By the end of the dance, the children could laugh again, and it was the full bodied sound that children have until live bleeds the joy from us, teaching us to laugh more quietly.
Peter returned their innocence, but the price was knowing what had happened. He lost his own.
His greatest strength was his weakness. He could not grow up. He would never lose his first laugh. To keep his youth, he gave up his innocence time and again to give back their innocence. He had to face being adult, see what he was missing and turn his back on it. He got to stay behind while everyone else went on.
Yes, he forgot what he saw. But in a way, that was worse. He got to bleed all over again each time he paid the price for his immortality.
The hole to heaven closed, the children gone. Peter lay on the ground sobbing.
Lili finally moved, and gathered him in her arms, rocking him.
"How can people do that to each other? They never did anything..."
"People are sick, Peter."
"I can't stop either. I can't grow up, even if I want to. Who would do this?"
"You're not alone anymore. I promise I'll stay, even if you forget me."
"I'll love you forever. Even if I forget, no matter what I say, I do."
Wendy was right all those years ago, it was Peter's biggest pretend that he wanted to remain a boy forever. He would have given almost anything to escape this punishment. But he loved what he was, and couldn't abandon the children to despair. Even when he got to see the good things he was missing.
"At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back to her childhood she remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened."
-- J. M. Barrie
Lili woke one night when Peter stirred from the bed. He was half way across the great room towards his tree when she untangled herself from the bedclothes. As he disappeared up his tree, curiosity got the better half of her and she followed.
Once outside, the boy was lit with the blue light of the full moon. He stood, head thrown back sightless eyes staring at the cold moon. Some nights on the Neverland were happy and safe feeling. That feeling was not present tonight, wyrding was on the air, and when Peter moved forward on silent feet, Lili followed, her chest aching as if some giant hand was crushing her heart.
Peter stopped at a medium sized clearing in the jungle. It was lit with more of the pale blue moonlight, and he walked slowly to the centre of the glen. He stood, yet again with his head thrown back, as if he could listen to the moon.
Slowly it became clear that something was happening. Peter began, ever so slowly to glow, the blue luminosity fleeing slowly to be replaced with golden light. When he shone like a captive sun, he looked straight forward to where Lili stood in the shadows of the forest. But before Lili could move, a voice ran out.
"Boy, do you still refuse?" called the voice in bell tones.
"Yes."
"Then serve your purpose."
Tears rolled down Peter's cheeks as a pinhole opened over his head and slowly widened. As it grew larger, light spilled forth, filling the clearing to the edges. Voices, wailing cries, murmurs filled the air.
Peter stood, crying silently amid all the noise, and he glowed an even gold. Slowly, the air seemed to solidify, forming ghostly silver children. They were of all ages, from wailing infants being held in the small arms of a five year old, to older, nearly grown children of twelve or thirteen. They were dressed differently, from kimonos to suits to frilly dresses to torn jeans and tee-shirts.
In short, each shimmering silver child wore what they had to their funeral. And the expressions on their faces were all the same. Fear.
Peter spun in a complete circle, taking in every child that crowded the clearing. Then he rang out in his best captain's voice, "Why are you crying?"
Replies were myriad and each drowned out the next until the glen was a cacophony of thin voices. Peter held up a hand, and immediately got silence from the ranks of the dead. "Don't be afraid. I can show you the way home." And he began to dance.
Words cannot describe what Lili beheld, it was all and nothing. But what can be said is that with each step, with every move, Peter lightened the air. He touched every child, and with that he absorbed a piece of darkness. He gave up the childish joy that was his lot in life to these children because they had lost it. And the trade-off wasn't fair, the darkness contained information. By the end of the dance, the children could laugh again, and it was the full bodied sound that children have until live bleeds the joy from us, teaching us to laugh more quietly.
Peter returned their innocence, but the price was knowing what had happened. He lost his own.
His greatest strength was his weakness. He could not grow up. He would never lose his first laugh. To keep his youth, he gave up his innocence time and again to give back their innocence. He had to face being adult, see what he was missing and turn his back on it. He got to stay behind while everyone else went on.
Yes, he forgot what he saw. But in a way, that was worse. He got to bleed all over again each time he paid the price for his immortality.
The hole to heaven closed, the children gone. Peter lay on the ground sobbing.
Lili finally moved, and gathered him in her arms, rocking him.
"How can people do that to each other? They never did anything..."
"People are sick, Peter."
"I can't stop either. I can't grow up, even if I want to. Who would do this?"
"You're not alone anymore. I promise I'll stay, even if you forget me."
"I'll love you forever. Even if I forget, no matter what I say, I do."
Wendy was right all those years ago, it was Peter's biggest pretend that he wanted to remain a boy forever. He would have given almost anything to escape this punishment. But he loved what he was, and couldn't abandon the children to despair. Even when he got to see the good things he was missing.
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