The Neverland Assassin

Mermaid Lagoon

           A young woman of about 19 years old stood forlornly on the white, sandy shores of Mermaid Lagoon dressed in tan breeches, a torn and ragged cotton shirt, and dark tanned leather riding boots. Her appearance of youth concealed the years of physical and mental travail and tribulation induced by the litany of the lengthened days on an island where time remained motionless. The beautiful young woman’s wavy yet messy brunette hair was pulled back in a tangled braid, revealing her delicate features: long, dark eyelashes, high cheekbones, plum, plump lips, and warm honey brown eyes filled and congealed with an ambience of untold melancholy and gloom. Andrea Hart the Assassin of Neverland.

She was otherwise known as simply “Andy” to those on the island; Pan insisted on the other Lost Boys addressing her only by this name. It only seemed an apposite fitting since she was the first and only ever Lost Girl of Neverland in a coterie of Lost Boys. Her wispy eyelashes fluttered, closing and obscuring her bright, honey eyes. She focused her energy and thoughts on a single object, which she needed in order to commence her mission.

I believe. Her heart pounded as the blood coursing through her veins travelled to the plains of her cheeks, warming and coloring them a rosy hue, which was unseen due to the darkness of night. Heart pounding, she felt a cool breeze greet her face; the magic of Neverland flowed through her veins and streamed throughout her body. The corners of her mouth pulled upwards when she felt the object form upon the palm of her right hand. Eyes wide open and ready, Andy firmly gripped the wooden handle of her sharpened steel dagger with her frozen fingers, which were still callused and raw from a day spent hauling boxes into the camp from this month’s shipment. Sometimes, Andy wished that Pan would realize that her job title as “assassin” was not synonymous with the duties of a pack mule. Nevertheless, she released an agitated sigh as she gazed sharply with hardened, deep brown eyes at the ship docked in the Mermaid Lagoon, her wispy frozen breath disappearing into the darkened sky. She was ready.

Night had fallen, blanketing her in the safety of the shadows. Only the pale moon radiated a ghostly, lonely light over the black waves of the lagoon. Pulling a forest green hood over her tangled brunette locks, she disembarked her wooden row boat from the lagoon’s sandy shores. It was time to carry out her mission. The mermaids tended to be active at night, but luckily Pan had requested them to move further out to sea for tonight. In actuality, rather than requesting, Pan threatened. No one, including Andy, ever questioned or challenged his authority because doing so would result in either torture or death.

       Silently, Andy rowed herself to the side of the ship which was concealed in the darkness of the shadows. In all its glory, it was the Jolly Roger. Andy remembered seeing this ship frequently years ago when its captain was in contract with Pan. By contract, she really meant that Pan had some sort of leverage over this captain in order to carry out his tasks for whatever master plan he always had. Andy never had the opportunity to formally meet this captain, but she remembered his defined face and brilliant yet empty blue eyes through the safety of the Neverland jungle’s camouflage. However, she remembered his voice most of all; it was deep and demanded attention. It never failed to send chills down her spine. How could a complete stranger have that effect on her? She wondered why Pan had never let her associate herself with this captain. Perhaps, this was her chance.

Gracefully, she hauled herself up the side of the ship like the expert she was. Years in Neverland and time spent climbing its myriad of trees quickened this physical process. Pulling her head above the side railings, she tuned her ear in to the conversation on deck. She could see a group of about five, drenched in salty ocean water from their ordeal out on sea. Andy had watched their predicament from the sands of the beach with a humored smile across her face. It was a rookie mistake, pissing off a mermaid.