the foot of her window. Scattered around the floor were a curious assortment of leaves that has certainly not been there when she went to bed. You see, even from infancy Wendy had always been a tidy child and the trait had merely increased with age.
Kneeling for closer examination revealed they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She peered at the floor for marks of a strange foot and, finding none, stood to inspect the window itself. She looked through the weathered pane into the garden below. It was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by. The trellis, of course, stood near, but it appeared unmolested.
Yet, something about the leaves seemed familiar. If only she could recall the previous night’s dream. Reaching through the thick veil that separates the waking from dreams, she recollected sobbing. Something had come too near, trying to break through. An elusive shadow…
If you or I had been there, we should have seen the shadow was the Neverlands in the guise of a boy very like Wendy Darling’s kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees; but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw she was all but grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her.
Wendy, unfortunately, remembered naught about her dream visitor but the sob of his shadow. In the street below, a motorcar chug up the lane and braked to a stop outside no. 14. Mysterious dreams and leaves forgotten, her heart skipped a beat and she took a moment to regain her equilibrium. With one final check in the mirror, a very grown-up Wendy descended to the waiting vehicle that would deliver her to her destiny.
If only she had not put away her childhood so neatly, she might have recognized the shadow. She might also have heard the quiet voice beseeching her from the nursery. For the voice of her inner child pleaded to come along. Had she taken young Wendy with her, she might have recognized the boy of the skeleton leaves on sight…and in doing so, discovered her true destiny.
For the hundredth time Peter straightened his black bowtie. He ran his fingers through his thick, unruly hair and practiced a dazzling smile into the upstairs hall mirror. The dashing gentleman in the tuxedo who smiled back at him possessed a self-assurance that bordered on cocky. And why should he not be considering the recent triumphs in his life?
Peter was living in a dream. Overnight, he had conquered the London stage. Invited into the best parlors, introduced to an endless array of wealthy, eligible daughters, he was suddenly the toast of high society. Welcomed and adored by all he met, he could do no wrong.
Tonight, Mr. Frohman had orchestrated this ball as much to celebrate the success of Peter as the play. Theatre patrons were clamoring for the company of Peter Neverland. He knew the fame was not really real, just another kind of play. Nevertheless, Peter found it intoxicating!
Complying with Mr. Frohman’s wish for him to make a grand entrance, Peter waited restlessly in the upstairs hall of the producer’s great house on Trafalgar Square. Below him, the main floor vibrated with activity and music. It seemed nearly all of London society had turned out to worship him. All that remained was the arrival of the one person that mattered most. Wendy Darling was his reason— the reason he was here—and he could scarcely believe she would soon be in his arms.
For a moment, Peter worried she had changed her mind and would not attend. But Peter’s very nature was one of nearly fatal optimism. Personally, he had confirmed the delivery of Miss Darling’s invitation and acceptance from her very own and very dear hand. She would come and before the night drew to a close, her heart would be his.
Since the ball’s inception, Peter had occupied his every waking hour while not on stage with happy anticipation. This
Kneeling for closer examination revealed they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She peered at the floor for marks of a strange foot and, finding none, stood to inspect the window itself. She looked through the weathered pane into the garden below. It was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by. The trellis, of course, stood near, but it appeared unmolested.
Yet, something about the leaves seemed familiar. If only she could recall the previous night’s dream. Reaching through the thick veil that separates the waking from dreams, she recollected sobbing. Something had come too near, trying to break through. An elusive shadow…
If you or I had been there, we should have seen the shadow was the Neverlands in the guise of a boy very like Wendy Darling’s kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees; but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw she was all but grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her.
Wendy, unfortunately, remembered naught about her dream visitor but the sob of his shadow. In the street below, a motorcar chug up the lane and braked to a stop outside no. 14. Mysterious dreams and leaves forgotten, her heart skipped a beat and she took a moment to regain her equilibrium. With one final check in the mirror, a very grown-up Wendy descended to the waiting vehicle that would deliver her to her destiny.
If only she had not put away her childhood so neatly, she might have recognized the shadow. She might also have heard the quiet voice beseeching her from the nursery. For the voice of her inner child pleaded to come along. Had she taken young Wendy with her, she might have recognized the boy of the skeleton leaves on sight…and in doing so, discovered her true destiny.
For the hundredth time Peter straightened his black bowtie. He ran his fingers through his thick, unruly hair and practiced a dazzling smile into the upstairs hall mirror. The dashing gentleman in the tuxedo who smiled back at him possessed a self-assurance that bordered on cocky. And why should he not be considering the recent triumphs in his life?
Peter was living in a dream. Overnight, he had conquered the London stage. Invited into the best parlors, introduced to an endless array of wealthy, eligible daughters, he was suddenly the toast of high society. Welcomed and adored by all he met, he could do no wrong.
Tonight, Mr. Frohman had orchestrated this ball as much to celebrate the success of Peter as the play. Theatre patrons were clamoring for the company of Peter Neverland. He knew the fame was not really real, just another kind of play. Nevertheless, Peter found it intoxicating!
Complying with Mr. Frohman’s wish for him to make a grand entrance, Peter waited restlessly in the upstairs hall of the producer’s great house on Trafalgar Square. Below him, the main floor vibrated with activity and music. It seemed nearly all of London society had turned out to worship him. All that remained was the arrival of the one person that mattered most. Wendy Darling was his reason— the reason he was here—and he could scarcely believe she would soon be in his arms.
For a moment, Peter worried she had changed her mind and would not attend. But Peter’s very nature was one of nearly fatal optimism. Personally, he had confirmed the delivery of Miss Darling’s invitation and acceptance from her very own and very dear hand. She would come and before the night drew to a close, her heart would be his.
Since the ball’s inception, Peter had occupied his every waking hour while not on stage with happy anticipation. This
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