^Picture above is what I imagine Hook would look like if he cut his hair.
Fairytales are always peculiar things. They never listen to the wants and needs of the characters within, only the fantasy of producing a lesson. They're selfish in that manner, just like the people who read them. Who cares for the plight of the characters if we are all entertained?
My little sister was gone, sucked away into the pages of a book, doomed to be forever forgotten by the readers. Her lesson had ended so abruptly that there was nothing to learn. A fairytale come to life had stolen her young light.
Or so I had been lead to believe.
A blast of wind hit me square in the face with the force of a speeding train. It whipped my curls behind me, nearly knocking me off my feet. My center of balance tilted, but I somehow remained standing.
The thing that caused the wind hurtled past us, heading towards the main mast of the ship. The wind zipped along behind it, a bullet of air whipping past.
It flew far too fast for me to seize any sort of description. All my flitting eyes caught was a zooming flash of bright crimson and dull brown.
Leaves floated in a lazy arch towards the deck surface long after its departure. A soft rustling was the only sound that could be heard aboard the ship. Silence blocked us in like bricks.
"You're going to have to do better than that, you old Codfish!" A voice hooted from behind us, its words mockingly familiar. They shattered the silence with ease, like a hammer to a glass.
In almost perfect unison, my captor and I spun around to face this new interloper.
But the man seemed to dread facing the newcomer. His body language was one of great annoyance and tension.
This person must have been a nuisance that he wished to wipe from existence with the sole of his leather boot. Such was the expression upon his face.
I had a feeling that this person would become a great ally of mine if he could cause such emotions within my enemy.
With a hopeful heart, I let my eyes settle on the top of the mast, now a place of great interest for all aboard the ship.
There, resting on top of the crow's nest with great ease, was my little sister. Wendi's body was relaxed, a content smile settled upon her features. Happiness twinkled from her every time she glanced at her companion.
Her compatriot was standing beside her with a smug smirk plastered across his face. He was a boy that would have appeared to be my age had he not been wearing a tunic made of autumn leaves and twigs.
It was such a child-like appearance that I couldn't help but compare him to the many children I had seen running the streets of London. He made even the smallest of child seem tame.
His flaming red hair swooped down into his cerulean eyes like licking fire, wild and obnoxious in their curls. His expression as he stared down my captor darkened his burning eyes into a deep raging cobalt.
He was a boy that belonged in fairy tales and children's imaginations.
"Come on, Captain! I expect more from the famous Hook than some silly little trick!" The boy whooped as he effortlessly pitched himself into the air.
Men across the deck stiffened before pulling guns and knives from every hidden alcove aboard the ship. They were preparing to take down that red-haired inconvenience with everything they had.
But with a signal from the captain, none of them fired upon the flying ruffian.
The boy carelessly flitted around a few sails, his mind lost in a field of uncaring thoughts before his face turned serious with intent. His arms, which had been absentmindedly hanging by his side, were raised in front of his face, his fingers reaching.
YOU ARE READING
A New Generation of Pan (currently editing)Adventure
Book One of Pan of Never Duology Have you ever wondered what came after Wendy and the other Darlings? What of all the other children Peter has visited over the years? Surely, there are many. I would find it very hard to believe that the ever playfu...