Peter Pan and the War of Evils

Chapter One

A/N: This story is set like a sequel to the 2003 live action Peter Pan movie, with the exception that the Lost Boys did NOT leave with Wendy. Respective characters belong to Mr. Barrie.

Old readers, this story has been rewritten, edited, and adjusted for a better plot and timeline. I hope you enjoy!

There are authors notes warning of Adult Content when present in a chapter for those who would wish to avoid such things.

-Ms. Kay.

Chapter One

The Storyteller was well practiced, if a bit overenthusiastic and maybe graphic, but only when the adults weren't around. She had a way of pulling the children forward with her words, forming lassos out of adjectives and vices out of nouns. Stories that they couldn't get from the heavily worn picture books stacked haphazardly in the little yellow bookshelf of the Children's Corner. Or from the fuzzy, muffled TVs they could only have on between the hours of 8:00am and 8:30pm. No, the Storyteller told tales from her heart, from her mind, brown eyes shining with a lust for the adventures only the characters in her stories had ever seen.

She captivated the children now, the younger ones leaning forward earnestly, eager to catch her hastily spoken narrative: "... and then he...DIED!"

They all gasped, one little girl disturbing her I.V. drip beside her, the bag shuddering as it's support was elbowed suddenly. "But that can't be true!" the little girl, Maggie, protested, her cheeks flushing red in displeasure, " What about the treasure? What about the his astronaut friend in the- in the-"

"Solar powered-supersonic- flying submarine?" the Storyteller offered and Maggie bobbed her head, the other kids humming their agreement.

The Storyteller smiled, a smile that told more than she could explain, a pink mystery set on a background of freckled honey and cream, "They say he still searches, unable to rest or sleep or even go to the bathroom until he finds the treasure! If you listen really closely..." She glances back and forth over her shoulders, then leans in close to the now huddled children. "you can still hear him whistling for his long lost dog, Pluto..." she trails off, leaning back, satisfied with her mysterious ending.

"Yeah, right," a boy in the back says from his wheelchair, tugging at a loose thread on his race-car printed gown, "Mickey Mouse would never do that."

The children looked expectantly to the Storyteller, whose rebuttal began with a single raised brow and the crossing of her well-tanned arms, "And how would you know? Have you ever met Mickey Mouse?"

Johnathan(that was the wheelchair boy's name) nodded and also crossed his arms, chin jutting out slightly, "I have. I've been to Florida, my grandparents live in Orlando. I met him then, got a picture and everything. He didn't really talk much. It was back before-" Johnathan cut off sharply, a blush creeping up his pale, slightly sunken cheeks. He tugged uncomfortably at the blue cap that covered his head, a gift from his mom after the last bit of his hair fell out. "Well, it was before."

Humbled, the Storyteller nodded somberly, "You're absolutely right, Johnny, my boy," She stood up and went to shake his hand, trying not to show how sad it made her that his skin was so thin and cold, "Minnie Mouse would never let him get lost."

She was about to launch into a whole new story when Stella, the afternoon shift nurse came around the corner, her clean white shoes squeaking on the linoleum. "Okay, my loves, story time is over!"

Jennifer, another nurse, whose shoes didn't squeak quite as much and whose red inked pens always smelled of cherries, stepped gracefully around the sitting babes until she reached Johnathan's chair. The boy seemed relieved; he was much more tired than he wanted to let on.