A/N:To those of you who have read this chapter before, I have edited and changed a few things, but it's basically the same.
This story is based off of the 2003 live filming of Peter Pan. It is set like a sequel, except I have it so that the Lost Boys DIDN'T leave with Wendy. Peter Pan(Lost Boys, ect.) belongs to Sir J.M. Barrie, but other characters such as Kaytee(and Judas ect.) belong to me. Vote, comment, enjoy!
picture of Kaytee off to the right--------------->>>>
If I had to name the one thing I hate the most about this world, my answer would be simple.
There was so much arguing. Its one of the main reasons why I refuse to believe that I will ever grow up. That I will, one day, have to pay bills, do work, argue with people, marry someone, ew, and most of all, argue.
Oh but guess what? I have a master plan.
I just wouldn't grow up, I didn't have to. There is not a force on the planet that will convince me otherwise that growing up is a good idea.
The thoughts swirled in my head as I laid in my bed, staring at the many drawings I have created, letting the settings of my stories reel me in. Nobody truly understood my imagination, my stories, the adventures I wished to have. Things like repairing an injured mermaids fin and how she would be so thankful, she would grant me a magical wish.
Or how I, Kaytee Radling, could defeat as many so called powerful boys as I wanted just by blinking an eye. I also disliked that so many people believed that girls were weaker than boys. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but we AREN'T!
Ugh, boys, I thought bitterly, they disgust me.
Don't get me wrong, some of them are pretty cute, but all of the attraction disappears once they yell something like “ Hey little girl! Where's your pretty pink bow?” and it just makes it worse if they say it in a baby voice.
That's usually about the time that I punch them in the face.
But there was a few people that did appreciate my genius. I like to read to the kids at the hospital. I was just there last week and will go there again tomorrow. They love having guests there and It doesn't surprise me, I'm sure it gets fairly boring after a while. The nurses will always gather them around me and I would pretend to pick out one of their generic books and secretly wink to the kids when the nurses turned away.
I would then toss the book aside and begin preaching my own stories filled with magic, and adventure.Usually I told my stories to about six or seven bald, little children, who I new each by name, and if someone new joins our little book club I always let them add some to the story.
Sometimes when it's perfect out, and the kids are feeling well, we will go outside and enjoy the sun. Which made it all the better for me,what with having all the room to show just how “ the brave soldier fought the over grown lions 'till the very end and then resurrected them and made them all into therapy animals that healed the wounded!”.
Stories like this give them hope, something very hard to remember when we'd lose one of our book club members. Such a sad time, and I could almost hear as the words flitted through their minds: