This Is My Neverland
AMY SHELTON
My story has been mis told to millions. People say that it was all just a fairytale. And maybe it was just a fairytale. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.
So, let me retell it. I don’t remember how to write. It’s been so long since I was taken, and I cannot remember how letters formed. So, instead I will whisper my story in your ear. Listen closely. I cannot speak more than a whisper. Along with my childhood, my voice was also stolen.
*
I was once a girl like her. I curled my hair like her. My mother dressed me in a pink nightgown just like her blue one. She had two brothers who joined her in her travels, but my two sisters were asleep in the other room when he visited me. I haven’t seen them since. I also had the same wonder and romanticism as Miss Darling; the young Wendy, whose eyes lit up with glittering smirk of a boy called Peter Pan.
My story happened like hers. One night as I lay trying to fall asleep, something shuffled across the room, and I rose from my bed. The shadow of a man suddenly appeared on my wall. He danced around the room, and I pulled the sheets to my face trying to shield myself. In spontaneous bravery, I leaped out of bed and tried to catch the shadow. I lunged into a bear hug and caught a sturdy figure. Looking up, it was a young man. He had the same jet-black hair as he does now. But he had two hands back then. His stubble cast a shadow across his jaw, and he smelled of sweat and the ocean. As he saw me observing his features, I remember his lips curling in a crooked smirk.
I was startled when I looked at him, not just because I had hugged a strange boy, but because he was the most handsome boy I had ever seen. My cheeks flushed as he laughed at my clumsiness. I hadn’t yet felt the touch of a boy, and my chest felt funny, and a feeling of giddiness swept over me.
I asked him who he was.
“James. And you?”
“Belle.”
We talked until midnight. He told me he was an eighteen-year-old sailor from a faraway land. A land full of children who could play all day. Instead of learning timetables they swam in river all day, or and they could go to bed whenever they pleased. I wanted to go to this magical land. He offered to take me there, and in my haste I agreed.
Taking my hand, like Peter took Wendy’s, he led me towards the window and lifted me up into the sky and I started floating.
While I screamed in horror, he laughed at me, “It’s ok Belle! Open your arms!”
He leaned over to open my arms and my heart stopped for a moment. “Lean this way to go over here and that way to go over there.”
Soon we were soaring together towards the line of the horizon in the distance.
My heart still swells when I remember all the stars in the sky, wondering when I would get close enough to touch them. But they never came closer.
It feels like yesterday that James called out my name, “Belle! Look! Over there!”
The darkness of midnight had brightened into dawn, and he was pointing to the ground. My gaze followed his finger, and my mouth dropped. There were waterfalls in the brightest blue I had ever seen, tumbling down, cascading into a flowing river that seemed to go on for as far as I could see. There were birds of yellows and reds on the water’s surface and perched among vivid green palm trees and bright pink orchids.
We landed on the riverbank. And he pointed towards his boat. It was imposing, making the river seem small. “That’s my boat. But follow me to the shack.”
We walked towards the quaint beach-like shack that that sat near the shore. My heart swelled even more as I watched him talked about Neverland, his dark eyes scanning over mine. I thought to myself that I was in love.
When we reached the shack, he told me to wait outside, and he entered, returning soon afterwards with two cups in each hand.
“Welcome home, Belle. Drink.” He handed me a plain wooden one with liquid that smelled like chocolate and plums. It made gold sparks dance across the floor. Entranced by its magic, I took a sip.
It was like the creamiest milk chocolate infused with the sweetness of a perfectly ripe plum. I smiled at him and felt the urge to lean forward towards his lips. But, as I did, my vision started to blur, and my hand reached out for James.
“Don’t worry, Belle. I’ll take care of you.” His face suddenly disappeared.
That’s all I remember before I opened my eyes again. When my vision sharpened, I saw the interiors of James’s hut. Wooden planks for walls, a telescope in the corner and a mattress on the floor. I stood up and held my arm out. My hand touched a glass case that surrounded me.
But something else wasn’t right. Everything felt strange, like the whole world had grown one hundred times larger than before. The front door was the largest door I had ever seen. There was a compass beside me, outside of the glass, but it was the size of a sofa.
I looked at my hands. Something wasn’t right. I tried to cry out for James. I grasped my throat with both hands as no sound came. I screamed, but only a whisper escaped me.
My fists started banging on the glass, “Help…” I cried, and I tried to scream. Soon my knuckles were red, and tears were flushing down my cheeks. My legs gave way, and my whole body met the floor.
I stared at the door that towered over me, a saw a flicker of movement that disrupted the light in the crack under the door.
It was dark, but I could see the outline of three little dragonfly-like creatures emerge. They were coming towards me, so I rose and backed up against the glass.
I frantically tried to search for any indication of James hiding in the shadows.
They were tiny girls with wings, fairies. They were my size and dressed in the same mini dress in different colours. Looking down at my own legs, I realised I was wearing the same dress, but in pink. And then I realised I had wings. The memory of what happened before this flooded back to me. Did James do this? Did he turn me into a fairy? Although I dressed up as fairies with my sisters, the thought of it made me feel sick.
They all peered at me, looking pitifully at the sight of a little girl trapped and alone. They turned to each other, whispering something in each other’s ears. The one dressed in red nodded and they all turned to leave.
“Wait… come back… please.” The glass seemed to be shrinking, like it was trying to squeeze around me, and I found my breath becoming more rapid as I divulged in this anxiety.
But as they flew off, they all whipped back around so suddenly that I tripped onto my backside, and they darted, in flight, towards the glass case. Their eyes reflected violence.
As they hit the glass, it tipped over. I curled into a ball and covered my body with my hands.
I slightly opened my eyes, seeing the shape of the three girls in front of me. They were smiling down at me. Not to mock me, or to laugh at my fear. The malevolent glint in their eyes had evolved into one of friendliness.
The one in blue turned to face the doorway, then the window, then the doorway again and started frantically tugging on her friend’s wing.
They took my hand and tried to pull me towards the door, but I dug my heals in.
“Wait… who are you?” I panicked.
They looked at me desperately and tried to pull me towards the door, but I tore myself away from their hands.
Suddenly their heads whipped towards the door. I heard the loitering creaks, as the light from outside slowly flooded the room. Looming, contrasting against the brightness was the tall figure. He stood there and I called out his name.
“James!”
He peered down at me, grabbed the door and slammed it shut the door with such force that I covered my ears in pain. He had a baseball bat in his hand.
He lunged towards me and grabbed me and started squeezing me.
“James, stop! You’re hurting me!” I gasp.
Of course, he didn’t hear me. But he did see me. One eye was focused on me, large and unblinking. Staring at me. Glowing in the dark. I felt dizzy staring into it and stopped struggling.
“You thought you could escape, Belle? Escape me? After all I have done for you! I thought you loved me!”
“But… but I wasn’t…” I whimpered back. He squeezed me harder.
His eye was an orb in the dark, menacing and unwavering.
Just as he started to squeeze harder something hurtled into his eye. It was one of the fairies. Another one flung towards his other eye, and the other started biting his fingers. He let go of me and I smacked on the ground and hurtled towards the crack under the door. I looked back and saw him swing the bat towards the fairies.
“Come on!” I shouted, gesturing them to follow. I crawled under the crack of the door and ran into the stalks of grass and towards the river. I turned back and saw a boy, no older than six years old run towards the hut. A flood of boys followed him. I ran after them, and scurried among the feet trying not to be trampled. The boys started beating James and grabbed his bat. He lunged towards the window and crawled through it, leaving just the boys and the fairies. I didn’t know where they were, but I saw a crowd form around one spot on the floor. I once again scurried among feet, but my stomach dropped. I saw the limp, bloodied bodies of three fairies.
*
When Peter found Wendy, just like James had found me, everything flooded back to me. I saw her bedroom walls and her little brothers and thought of my own bedroom that had undoubtably been replaced. It was probably a storage room by now, infested by cobwebs and rats.
They started to fall in love, and I panicked. Wendy already had a warm bed and a loving mother. They will shrink her too and give her speckles of magic to try to compensate for stealing her voice and girlhood.
I needed to make her despise me. I needed to give her a close call to convince her to return to the human world. The only way that Wendy will leave and never return is if she has experienced the worst that this place could offer. And that was Hook. James Hook.
When the little girls dress up as Tinkerbell for Book Week and Halloween, or even a birthday party, gratitude swells within me. I was what little girls dreamed of. I glistened gold in the sun, and my pixie dust and fairy wings came straight from the fantasy storybooks that my mother read to me. But my story isn’t magical. I had everything taken from me including my own story. They created me through the eyes of vanity; they showed vindication; they made my dress green to symbolize jealousy, but my dress was always pink. They said that I was in love with Peter, but deep down, I always feared him.
Amy is a writer from rural New South Wales. She is currently studying a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and English, and works in libraries, helping spread the joy of reading and facilitating early literacy programs.