houses
there look like nothing people would build on Neverland. Some of
them are as tall as mountains, scraping on the night sky it seems.
Ships float on a broad serpent-like river, and in the distance a
clock strikes ten. I follow the sound to a high angular tower
tinted in yellow light. There’s a huge white watch with black hands
built into it.
An awfully
lot of bustling activity is going on in the streets beneath. Weird
for that time of the night. Coaches zoom past, but they aren’t
pulled by horses. And crowds of people are still out and about.
Staying in the air high above them all seems to be the safest
way.
I’m gliding across a wide green area, when
the pull suddenly increases again. Following the impulse, I soon
realize I’m headed to London’s outskirts. The activity is fading
behind me. Hardly any man is seen in the streets and alleys, and
there are more trees and bushes here. Some windows in the lower but
more exclusive houses are illuminated, but most are dark.
I wonder how far I’ll still be sucked on this
powerful current, when the pull stops abruptly and I drop. Moments
before I crash into the roof of a mansion, I catch myself in the
air and come down gently.
The dark clapboards are cold and rough
against my bare feet. And now that the warm flow has stopped
completely, goosebumps rise on my arms and back. I ignore the chill
as soon as I hear the familiar voice of a girl.
“Yes, I will. Good night, mother.”
I sneak
toward the edge of the roof and peek down. There are two balconies
attached to this side of the house, both semicircular and facing a
wide garden. Light falls through the open door to the one right
beneath me. Behind the drawn net curtains, the shadow of a person moves back and forth several times, then
this figure walks out onto the balcony. It’s a young woman.
Somebody I know. Her short black hair reveals a slender, pale neck
and her fragile body is wrapped into a light pink dressing
gown.
When I lean farther over the edge to get a
better glimpse, a clapboard comes loose and drops. It misses the
balcony by a few inches, falls down in the garden, and breaks in
two.
Her hands braced on the balustrade, Angel
glances down, then she slides a look up to me. Quickly, I duck
back. It’s not a good idea if she sees me up here…and the way I’ve
changed. She wouldn’t recognize me.
After a few calming breaths, I lean out once
more, but she’s disappeared from the balcony and the light in her
room is out. Temptation rides me hard to fly down and sneak inside,
but what would she say if she found a half naked stranger in her
room?
Right, I have to find some clothes first.
Several
windows in this street are open, mostly on the second floors. I try
those that are dark, hoping that whoever lives in those houses have
gone to sleep by now. The first two windows I fly through lead into
beautifully decorated nurseries. Babies are sleeping peacefully in
their cribs. I try a couple more houses farther down the street. In
the last one, I get lucky. A young man in snoring in a wide bed,
the covers draped up to his hips. From what I can see in the dark,
we’re both the same built. There’s a closet opposite the window
with a selection of clothes that might fit me.
Carefully
skimming through the many shirts on hangers, I try to make no
sound. But suddenly, the man stirs in his sleep, rolls onto his
back and his left arm flops sideways over the edge of the bed.
Startled, I retreat to the shadows, but he doesn’t awaken. So I
quickly grab a few items from his closet and rush out through the
open window.
There’s no
one out here who could see me, so it should be alright to change on
the roof. My booty is a dark red t-shirt with long sleeves, a
leather jacket, and pants that look like the ones Angel wore when
she came to Neverland—a funny light blue material. Everything fits
perfectly.
The only
problem is my feet are still naked and cold. Raiding another house,
I grab a laced pair of black
there look like nothing people would build on Neverland. Some of
them are as tall as mountains, scraping on the night sky it seems.
Ships float on a broad serpent-like river, and in the distance a
clock strikes ten. I follow the sound to a high angular tower
tinted in yellow light. There’s a huge white watch with black hands
built into it.
An awfully
lot of bustling activity is going on in the streets beneath. Weird
for that time of the night. Coaches zoom past, but they aren’t
pulled by horses. And crowds of people are still out and about.
Staying in the air high above them all seems to be the safest
way.
I’m gliding across a wide green area, when
the pull suddenly increases again. Following the impulse, I soon
realize I’m headed to London’s outskirts. The activity is fading
behind me. Hardly any man is seen in the streets and alleys, and
there are more trees and bushes here. Some windows in the lower but
more exclusive houses are illuminated, but most are dark.
I wonder how far I’ll still be sucked on this
powerful current, when the pull stops abruptly and I drop. Moments
before I crash into the roof of a mansion, I catch myself in the
air and come down gently.
The dark clapboards are cold and rough
against my bare feet. And now that the warm flow has stopped
completely, goosebumps rise on my arms and back. I ignore the chill
as soon as I hear the familiar voice of a girl.
“Yes, I will. Good night, mother.”
I sneak
toward the edge of the roof and peek down. There are two balconies
attached to this side of the house, both semicircular and facing a
wide garden. Light falls through the open door to the one right
beneath me. Behind the drawn net curtains, the shadow of a person moves back and forth several times, then
this figure walks out onto the balcony. It’s a young woman.
Somebody I know. Her short black hair reveals a slender, pale neck
and her fragile body is wrapped into a light pink dressing
gown.
When I lean farther over the edge to get a
better glimpse, a clapboard comes loose and drops. It misses the
balcony by a few inches, falls down in the garden, and breaks in
two.
Her hands braced on the balustrade, Angel
glances down, then she slides a look up to me. Quickly, I duck
back. It’s not a good idea if she sees me up here…and the way I’ve
changed. She wouldn’t recognize me.
After a few calming breaths, I lean out once
more, but she’s disappeared from the balcony and the light in her
room is out. Temptation rides me hard to fly down and sneak inside,
but what would she say if she found a half naked stranger in her
room?
Right, I have to find some clothes first.
Several
windows in this street are open, mostly on the second floors. I try
those that are dark, hoping that whoever lives in those houses have
gone to sleep by now. The first two windows I fly through lead into
beautifully decorated nurseries. Babies are sleeping peacefully in
their cribs. I try a couple more houses farther down the street. In
the last one, I get lucky. A young man in snoring in a wide bed,
the covers draped up to his hips. From what I can see in the dark,
we’re both the same built. There’s a closet opposite the window
with a selection of clothes that might fit me.
Carefully
skimming through the many shirts on hangers, I try to make no
sound. But suddenly, the man stirs in his sleep, rolls onto his
back and his left arm flops sideways over the edge of the bed.
Startled, I retreat to the shadows, but he doesn’t awaken. So I
quickly grab a few items from his closet and rush out through the
open window.
There’s no
one out here who could see me, so it should be alright to change on
the roof. My booty is a dark red t-shirt with long sleeves, a
leather jacket, and pants that look like the ones Angel wore when
she came to Neverland—a funny light blue material. Everything fits
perfectly.
The only
problem is my feet are still naked and cold. Raiding another house,
I grab a laced pair of black
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