He had warned her
about the book. Now it was too late. She was already its prisoner. It had taken
her against her will into its world, and it wouldn’t let her go.
Now,
as Mr. Linden sat in his library, he knew that the book had gotten to her.
There was no way it couldn’t have.
And
that was his plan all along.
The
surest way to get someone to do anything is to tell them they can’t. And how
powerful is that suggestion? A challenge just waiting to be accepted was
sitting upon the table, waiting to be picked up.
And
Alice couldn’t resist.
She
was a child of wonder. All her life, she was scolded for daydreaming, scolded
to lying, scolded for using her imagination. But she had found a friend in Mr.
Linden, and in his library.
He
warned her. He repeated himself daily, as she wandered around his library,
looking for something new to read. Alice was a child of adventure. A child of
imagination, a child of words. She was not the prettiest, or the smartest of
her siblings. She was not the youngest, either. She was not the one everyone
babied and spoiled. No, most of the time she was left alone.
So
she discovered something that could comfort her. Books. Books were her only
comfort in the world. She could sneak off into little nooks and cranies and
stay there for hours along with Peter
Pan, Cinderella, and her favorite – Alice and Wonderland.
It
was not coincidence that Mr. Linden told young Alice not to read Lewis Carroll’s
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Oh,
no. It was his intention all along. To give a child a book is the most powerful
magic in the world.
It
allows a small, forgotten girl to become to protagonist of her own story. It
allowed this young girl, who so desperately wanted to be recognized, the power
to fall through the looking glass, and into Wonderland.
And
he warned her. And now it was too late.
She
was in Wonderland with the White Rabbit and the Red Queen. She was painting the
roses red.
As her hand
slipped from the cover and her eyes heavy with sleep, Mr. Linden slowly picked
the book off of her chest, set it on the night stand, and covered her with a
blanket.
Smiling,
he knew that this “dangerous” book was giving her the adventure of a lifetime.
An
adventure that he hoped, would stay with her forever. And help her overcome the
woes that come with being the forgotten sister.
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"For Kristin"
Prologue
When
JM Barrie uncovered the story of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, he left out an
important character. Oh, sure, he remembered Tinkerbell and TigerLily, but
there was someone much closer to Peter who has felt neglected all these years.
He left out someone who was much, much closer to Peter than Wendy or even Tink.
His
shadow.
Chapter 1
Peter
Pan was not like most little boys. This fact, almost everyone knows. As an
infant, Peter was tragically left behind in his stroller, all the while
frantically crying, in Hyde Park. Peter’s mother, a woman we know absolutely
nothing about, had apparently vanished into thin air. Snow started to dust both the umbrella of the
buggy and the surrounding areas. This was not the kind of weather that people
wanted to walk around in – not yet at least. Unbeknownst to Peter, the day of
his abandonment was Christmas Day. To our dear readers, this may look like come
cruel joke or coincidence. It is both, and it is neither. Magic, and strange
things, happens on Christmas Day. Ask any child who hears the jingle of Santa’s
sleigh and they will surely tell you that magic exists.
Peter
lay in that buggy for what, to him, seemed like a lifetime. Not one person
noticed the crying child, as mentioned before; the day was not one for a stroll
around the park. Not yet, at least. The lights around the park were wrapped in
green garland with fairy lights poking out, giving the whole area a look of an
old-fashioned Christmas story. The ice skating rink placed strategically in the
middle, usually filled with the laughter of children and couples in love, was
eerily quiet. The tree in the far end of the park twinkled silently. Thousands
of shimmering ornaments – red, yellow, blue, and orange – rested in the boughs
of the tree. Somewhere, children were dreaming of sugarplums and hot chocolate.
Peter cried until he realized that no one was going to come to his aid. He
then, as infants do, amused himself.
That’s
when the situation changed. Call it magic, or imagination, but for our dear
Peter, someone did appear at his side. His shadow, for some reason, come into
Peter’s view and comforted the child. As they were of the same being, just
being together soothed them both. There is nothing more powerful to wake up
magic like the cry of an abandoned child. It was there that everything, for
both Peter and his Shadow, changed.
The
awakening of the magic that had brought to life Shadow (as Peter referred to
him – how are you supposed to name something that is an innate part of you?) had
also awakened the rest of the magic that only happens on Christmas. Although
many children are abandoned by their mothers, Peter, as we all know, was
special. Very special. Occasionally, and more often than you and I can imagine,
the purity that is a child’s cry can both still and stir the universe. And stir
the universe did.
The
magic of forgotten lore whirled around Peter and Shadow. Fairies floated down
from the tops of Christmas trees to see what had been left. Fairies can be
quite maternal (especially girl fairies) and took pity on the child. By now,
the black buggy had a fine coat of snow on it. It would have almost been
unrecognizable to the naked, human, eye. However, a fairy’s eyesight is much
better than ours.
“What
do you suppose it is?” The fairy in blue asked her friend. This fairy had brown
hair pulled back into a ballerina-like bun. Her ocean-like blue eyes widened at
the sight of the baby boy.
This
fairy, named Araxia, softly landed on the parameter of the buggy and cocked her
head to one side, as if confused.
“I’m
not sure, but it’s not making that noise anymore,” The one in red replied. Her
hair was as fiery as the dress she was wearing. Her green eyes darted around;
looking to make sure that no other human was coming. She, Calista, was more
concerned over them being spotted than the crying child.
“Could
it be…” the fairy in green stumbled, her name was Laila. Her blonde hair
tumbled down her back “It’s not possible.”
“What’s
not possible?” The Calista and Araxia inquired.
“It’s
a human child.” Laila answered.
“Left
out in the cold? Where is its mother?” Calista asked.
“No
where to be found, it seems,” Araxia looked around. “What is with it?”
The three fairies noticed that a
grey figure lay with the child, protecting Peter from the snow and wind. Peter,
it seemed was warm and happy. The fairies made him giggle.
“It’s…the
child’ shadow,” Laila reached out a hand to touch Peter and her hand went
through Shadow. “This shadow must have come to life when we were awakened by
this child’s cry.”
“Is
it a boy child or girl child?” Wondered Araxia. Searching around for a sign,
Araxia found a bottle with “Peter” labeled across it. “That answered my
question. It’s a boy child. And his name is Peter.”
“Peter,”
Laila and Calista mused over the top of the stroller.
“Where
should we take him?” Calista asked her friends.
“Take
who?” A voice asked. Calista, Laila and Araxia looked up to find a yellow fairy
coming to join them.
“Peter.
The human child we found,” Laila said.
“To
Neverland, of course. Where else do you bring Lost Boys?” Marigold – the fairy
dressed in yellow, was always the wisest of the four.
“Neverland.”
They all chimed in together.
“Why
didn’t we think of that?” Laila asked herself.
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"My Students are Like the Rain"
My students are like the rain
Sometimes they come in like a drizzle
Softly, shy, and unsure
Other days they come in like a hurricane
Violent, messy, angry.
But on days when the sun is too high
(and the pressure is just too much)
they roll on in
sun still shining
to soften your day
with their cool breezes
and refreshing laughter.
But sometimes it goes on for days
Pounding against the windows
Testing your strength and patience.
They never seem to let up.
And then one day
The sun breaks through
And the destruction clears
And suddenly,
You can see the sun.
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