Skip to main content

from the Memoirs of Peter Pan (first story in a trilogy by Sheri)


From the Memoirs of Peter Pan

One day, the lost boys and I flew to another tiny island, flying free and happy, we saw the single tree in the distance, a huge tree, and it was perched on the top of a slab of land, and inside that slab of land was the face of a giant. We hovered to look close, and the face awoke, its eyes like craters, its mouth like a hollowed out cave, and he suddenly blew at us in a big puff of smoke and ash sending us tossing and twirling back over a hundred feet. We were not stopped though, and went to the top of the slab to see what this place was all about.

There was a long channel of water, weaving through the land, around the tree, and spilling down the sides in a shower for the giant. It was green and mossy when we landed, spongey on our feet. It seemed that nothing was here, until we saw a woman emerge from a near distance, standing there with a walking stick, staring at us. The lost boys asked, “What shall we do, Peter?” So I made the first move and starting walking toward the woman with the boys right behind me.

“Hello,” I said to her, stopping in my tracks before getting too close. “Where are we?”

“This is Figureland, and I am the only inhabitant on it. It is named after the great figurehead in the center.”

“Yes, we saw the giant,” I said to her.

“That figures head grows nappy hair, thick rock of a skull; that figure is a thinking thing, and we are standing in his brain.”

“Oh, no, what do you mean by that?! Are we hurting the island?”

“I have done all that. I have left traces in its brain, and he seems to like me alright, doesn't quake or quiver, doesn't get boiling hot mad.”

“But he blew us away!”

“He may not have wanted the pressure. Headaches, you know?”

“Oh, yes, I know, I know.”

“And who might you be?”

“I'm Peter Pan, and these are the lost boys.”

“Are you always this curious, Peter Pan?”

“Yes, mostly. We aren't ever going to grow up!”

“Ha, yes, it does take time, but no choice in it. Would you like to have some fish and papayas?”

“Yes, we would like that.”

“Come with me.”

I had never caught the woman's name, but she was dressed in a bamboo skirt, and a coconut top. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, with silver hair, and sharp blue eyes, standing about 6 foot. We followed her across this giant's head, into a sunny, bald spot, where she had made a small home out of evergreen branches tied with milkweeds. The first thing I noticed was the smell, it was the freshest, most comforting smell. It was very small, we had to crawl to get in, and it barely fit all of us.

“I live on fresh fish in this island,” she told them. “And I'm willing to share. But tell me, where are you from?”

“We're from Neverland,” I told her. “It's a neighboring island.”

“Ah, never heard of it. I climbed all the way up to the top of this island on the spine of the giant. I will spend out my time here, I told myself, and so I have. That one big tree you saw when you got here, that is a magic tree. It changes. It grows all different kinds of fruits and nuts. That's the giant's sweet spot.”

“Oh, my! That sounds wonderful!”

“Yes, but you can't stay,” she me, tearing up the fish, and passing around for a bite of fruit.

“Alright, we won't stay,” I told her. “But wouldn't you like to come live with us, we always have fun, dancing, singing, never growing tired or bored.”

“I mustn't. I am preserving the great head of the giant!”

“Yes! Alright then, we must be going.”

“It was nice meeting you, Peter Pan, and all you young fellas.”

“Same here. I bet you didn't know we could fly.”

“I kind of figured that. Magic, huh?”

“Yes, Pixie has just arrived, ready to take us home. With her dust, we can do anything. (pause) Well, so long.”

“Yes, so long.”

We crawled out of the makeshift house, with Pixie going crazy. I knew she was on our smell, and wouldn't be left behind. We stood together, holding hands, I told the boys to think of all of these wonderful thoughts from today, and they did, then we got a strong smell of Pixie dust, and off we flew, back to Neverland.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

T.I. John Finch wanted me to send this out to you, he's an incredible activist, and this reading is real good for insomnia, please save it to your files, if you can

john Finch   < noorwelliannaziism@gmail.com > 7:58 PM (55 minutes ago) to bcc:  me EMERGENCY – SATELLITE TECHNOLOGY BEING USED TO TRACK, MONITOR, TORTURE & KILL satellitetorture@gmail.com Satellite technology, presumably developed and controlled by the U.S. government, is being used to track, monitor, torture and kill people all over the world.  The satellite operators establish an invisible microwave connection with peoples’ brains, providing constant tracking and silent surveillance.  They can hear what we hear, see what we see and even read our thoughts - total surveillance of anyone, anywhere in the world.  This technology is infinitely more frightening and Orwellian than NSA data collection.  Unfortunately, illegal surveillance is not the most serious issue.  This technology can also be used as a remote, untraceable torture instrument and lethal weapon.  By interacting with the brain, the operators can transmit inexplica