The Fiction Friday post for today is geek-a-riffic, incorporating two separate universes in its body and a third in its title (none of them should be hard to guess for anyone who has been reading my stories for a while), but it's important for another reason. It is the first actual piece of writing I have produced in the year 2015.
Some years start off amazingly well. Others... not so much. This year, at least in the department of writing, has definitely been on the side of "not so much". As I mentioned in my post on Monday, my internal demons have been out in full force, trying to make me feel inadequate, useless, etc. It's been working.
I don't know what changed today, but clearly something did. I was able to take a breath, clear away a few of the cobwebs, and get at least a little bit of a story down on paper. It's a very silly little story, not just fan fiction but a crossover of my fan fiction with a totally unrelated universe, but I wrote it and I had fun writing it and I bet you're going to have fun reading it, so there! Nyah! *sticks out tongue at screen*
In any case, please enjoy this latest little installment of the crossover of my Dangerverse with the world of Peter Pan. You may remember "The Found Ones" from last year, and if not, go ahead and click through to refresh your memory. Or perhaps don't yet, as today's story takes place quite a while before that one does.
In any case, whichever you choose to read first, please enjoy, and remember that comments are moderated. Your comment has not gone into oblivion when it disappears; it's just waiting for approval and I will okay it as soon as I am able. Thanks, as always, O readers, and I hope to have more good writing news for you at some point very soon!
It was a day like any other in Neverland. Peter Pan and his Lost Boys (of whom, at the present time, there were four) had awakened early, eaten their breakfast, and set out in search of the day's adventures, or rather three of them had. The fourth Lost Boy, still feeling unwell from an illness which had laid him low the night before, had been left behind.
From the branches of the tree which grew above their hideaway, he watched his friends out of sight, Peter flying ahead with Tinker Bell darting about him and the three Lost Boys hurrying to keep up on the ground. Then, for lack of anything else to do, he began to clear away the mess from breakfast (mainly fruit peels, coconut shards, and the like), and when this was done set the rest of the Lost Boys' hideaway to rights, straightening this and tidying that as well as he knew how. Once, or so he had heard from some of Tiger Lily's islanders, Peter had flown away from Neverland and brought back with him a girl named Wendy, to be the Lost Boys' mother and take care of them.
"I had a mother once," he said aloud, the sound of his voice cutting across the rasp of broom-straws on the rough wooden floor. "But then I had my accident and I started to be ill once a month, and I thought I might as well be Lost." The broom stilled as he gazed at the ceiling. "I wonder if she ever thinks of me."
With a sigh, he swept the dust into a convenient corner, set the broom in front of it, and clambered up to one of the doors which led to the outside. He might not be able to go on today's adventure with his friends, but perhaps he could have one of his own.
"The Forbidden Path." He peered towards it eagerly, letting his imagination roam over all the reasons why Peter Pan had so sternly warned his current crop of Lost Boys that they must never follow the path that led over the ridge to the north. Was it, perhaps, where Tinker Bell and her fairy friends lived? Could it be the home of a new tribe of islanders, more savage than Tiger Lily's people? Perhaps the wild beasts there were so ferocious that even Peter Pan himself feared them...
"But that's silly." The Lost Boy laughed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "Peter Pan's not afraid of anything!"
Brushing his sand-colored hair out of his clear blue eyes, he set off on his own personal adventure.
The path to the northern ridge was narrow and overgrown with weeds, but the Lost Boy couldn't help but notice that the dirt was hard underfoot in a much wider span. Clearly this route hadn't always been forbidden.
"So why is it now?" he wondered as he clambered upwards. "What happened that Lost Boys used to travel this way all the time, and now—"
His head popped up above the top of the ridge before he could finish his sentence, and he lost the trail of his thought.
The valley which spread out before him was the duplicate of the Lost Boys' own, down to the thin curl of smoke rising from among the trees.
"Wild beasts don't use fire, and neither do the fairies," he breathed. "And islanders never dare let their smoke be seen, because they live out in the open." Absently, he climbed to his feet on the dividing line between his own valley and the forbidden one, and took a step forward. "So that means—"
"Surrender!" shrieked a high-pitched voice, and a missile of about his own shape and size hit him in the chest, bowling him over backwards and knocking the wind out of him. It was several moments before he could think of anything but getting his breath, and by that time the person who'd knocked him down was perched in a nearby tree, a tiny, business-like dagger gleaming in one brown hand.
"Surrender," demanded the person again, waggling the dagger so that its blade caught the sunlight. "You're my prisoner!"
The Lost Boy managed to suck a breath into his lungs, which allowed his brain to start working again. His small captor wore neither the gaudy finery of a pirate nor the deerskin of an islander but a patched-together shirt and trousers similar to his own (though in far better repair). Furthermore, though every inch of visible skin on arms and legs was as dark as that of Tiger Lily herself, he could see a fairer patch within the loose shirt, and what with the long, wild brown curls falling around the fierce little face—
He blinked and sat up, the reason he'd thought of Tiger Lily snapping into place for him. "You're a girl!" he blurted out.
"What of it?" the girl demanded.
"But I thought—" The Lost Boy shook his head, bewildered. "Peter always says—"
"Oh, Peter Pan." The girl waved her free hand scornfully. "He doesn't know everything, though he'd like to think he does. Girls get Lost all the time. They just have enough sense to make friends with the fairies, so that they can get Found again before too long. Adventures can't go on forever." She sighed. "Though some adventures, it'd be nice...but that's not important now." Snapping back to the present, the Lost Girl leapt from her branch, swooping down to hover in front of him. "You crossed the line, and you're my prisoner. Until you escape, or until your friends come and free you." Unexpectedly, she smiled, sheathing her dagger and planting her feet on the ground. "Or until we're friends. What's your name, Lost Boy?"
"Remus." The Lost Boy smiled back, accepting the small brown hand held out to help him up. "What's yours?"
The Lost Girl giggled, turning to lead the way to her own band's hideaway. "Call me Danger," she said.