Prologue

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Many people think they know my story. However, there are a few minor details that you don't know. My name is Wendy, Wendy Moira Angela Darling. Let me start off by telling you that part of the story that you think you know is true. I did fly away to a magical place where no one ever grows old and everything is fun and games, but you have to be careful because everything is not as it appears. Peter Pan is real but it is more than just any old fairytale.

I used to think that there was just good and evil, but there is so much more than that. My story that I thought would be so black and white was mixed up in a sea of gray.

I guess I should explain myself. What better place to start than the beginning?

My story doesn't start the night Peter took my brothers and I to the land where mermaids tan on rocks and pirates battle indians. It actually starts long before that.

Ever since I was a little girl I would dream of Peter. He would come visit me in my dreams and tell me all about his adventures in Neverland. His battles against Hook, the lost boys, and the ongoing war with the Indians.

I was always intrigued about Peter's stories and so I would tell my brothers all about them in vivid detail. Michael and John would always look at me with wide-eyes and grins that stretched from ear to ear. They admired Peter and every adventure he went on. He was their hero. Peter did visit me only in my dreams for a very long time. Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask if he would take me to Neverland.

He would always talk about bringing me with him but he said had to "wait for the right time." Peter told me that by the time I turn 15, if I still wanted to go to Neverland he would come and visit me and we would fly away together.

Of course I would want to fly away and stay with him forever. I told Michael and John. They were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. They wanted to come along of course. Who wouldn't want a life of no responsibilities and staying young forever?

I accepted his deal that when I was 15 I would go with him.

Now you may ask yourself, how could I have left everything I had ever known?

My life before Peter wasn't reaching the potential that I knew it could. My parents never understood me. Sure, I did well in school and I had "friends" more or less. I knew that something from my life was missing. I always had this empty feeling, like I didn't belong. Peter showed me that there is a place where I could be myself and not feel like a pariah.

I was popular in school I had a lot of friends and people that looked up to me, but I always felt like I had to pretend to be someone else. At school I never acted like myself. I acted like the "perfect" darling girl that everyone expected me to be.

Let me tell you a little bit about my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Darling or father and mother as I call them; they like to imagine that we are the perfect family. They are the perfect rich parents with three perfect children who have manners and class. We listened all the time and never talked back. My parents never really understood that I didn't like being proper and perfect all the time because to me it was pretending to be something that I'm not.They never understood that I wasn't happy.

I would try to explain to them how I really felt, but they would never listen. I eventually learned that I shouldn't even put in the energy to try. Whenever they would talk to me it was like I wasn't even there. It was as if I was glass and they were talking straight through me.

I do have my brothers though. They truly understand. Michael and John are the only people that I have ever truly loved. I would lay down my life for either one of them. I could never leave them behind even if that is what Peter preferred. He has learned to love them as much as I do through the stories I tell him. He says that I am a wonderful storyteller. Peter tells me how he wants me to tell him a story everyday and I do... after he tells me about his adventures of course.

In our house I have always taken care of John and Michael; in a world like ours they needed someone to cling onto. I just happened to be their anchor and I didn't mind that. Peter was my anchor his stories and his life all sounded too good to be true, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

My story starts not the night Peter took me away, but the day before. It was my birthday.

~~~

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