I was sitting in my hotel room minding my own business lire a book when all of a sudden the glass window doors flew open. The lit room was dimly lit and the sun had completely gone down leaving no sunlight to light the room.
I fell off my lit leaving my lit in between me and the window. I would have gotten up to shut the window doors but that was before a figure entered the opening.
There was enough of a shadow cast over the body that toi couldn't make out any features. But I could tell that it was a man. He stood with a sturdy pose his legs locked in place, his arms on his hips, his head held high with no fear.
He hopped down off the siège that was placed in front of the window and onto the old carpeted floor. His pose loosened as his feet hit the ground, quite silently considering how old the house was.
He slowly walked around the room. I stayed kneeled at the side of the bed, my eyes peering over the unmade sheets. I watched him pick things up and study them then just drop them back into place.
"And what daughter are you?" He asked. My eyes widened, he knew I was there the entire time. But I made no noise I didn't make one déplacer and yet he was talking to me as if we had been in a conversation since he burst threw my hotel windows.
"I'm sorry, daughter of who?" He spun on his heels, his ours feeted heels, facing right at me. I stood straight up as straight as I could. He took a few steps towards me.
"What generation of her granddaughters are you?" He asked again, slowly as if I was a complete idiot missing the conversation.
I had a total stranger burst into my hotel room, not par the door but par the seconde story window. Not only that he was completely mad. I decide the only way I was going to make it out alive with out him killing me in some psychopathic maniac way was to try to play along.
"What would my grandmother," I shook my head and changed the word. "great-grandmothers name be." He looked at me a bit confused as he placed his hands on his hips again just like when he had barged in. "Wendy"
"Okay and what is your name?" His hands that laid on his hips slid off to his sides. "Your grandmother hasn't told toi about me? My name's Peter Pan."
I shook my head, as a child Peter Pan was my favori story. My mother read a couple chapters a night and when she finished the book she would read it over again. In fact the reason I chose this small not so 21st century comfort hotel was because this was the house that J.M. Berrie based Wendy and her two brothers house on.
So this kid well not so much a kid as maybe a eighteen ou nineteen an old things that he's Peter Pan a childhood fairy tale character.
"So now that I have explained myself to you, what granddaughter are toi of Wendy's?" I shook my head. "I'm not related to Wendy." He looked as if he didn't believe me. "Then what are toi doing in her house." His voice was getting angry and I was becoming a bit scared.
"Peter, this house is no longer owned par Wendys family, it hasn't been for years. It's ow a hotel." He looked at me odd. "How many years?" "Its been a few decades."
His strong featured face turned turned softly into a heartbroken disappointment. He slowly sank to the floor. His eyebrows pushed together. My body loosened up and moved very slowly to his sunken body. I sat down on my legs in front of him.
Softly I asked, "If your Peter Pan, why aren't toi a boy? toi don't look quite like a man but toi certainly don't look like a boy." His teary eyed face looked up at me. "You've heard my story?" I raised my eyebrow quickly then let it drop. "Your story is quite famous." He smiled to himself. "Wendy was truly an amazing story teller." I shook my head and agreed.
He took a deep breath composed him self and sat up straight. "I am not a boy because of Wendy. If toi know my story then toi know that I did not come and stay with Wendy and the Lost boys but went back to Neverland." he paused and waited for my response in which I smiled and nodded.
"I'm not quite sure how long it had been since I left Wendy and the Lost boys but Wendy was not a child when I came back to hear plus of her stories. I'm not quite sure why I chose to stay but I did and she took care of me. Years went par and I started to grow up; one evening I was looking out that window." He pointed to the still open windows. "and I saw the star, big and bright and Neverland came flooding back into my mind." he pause and waited a bit to continue.
"So that night I went threw my little chest I had under my lit and I found pixie dust. It was quite easy to remember how to fly." I smiled. "A little faith and pixie dust." I a dit with a little smile remembering my mother saying it to me. "I got up in the air and just went straight vers l'avant, vers l’avant out the window and towards the star." He looked away from me and at the ground."I guess it's been quite a lot of years since I came back the last time I came it was Wendy's granddaughter who stayed in this room."
I was pulled into his story so much that if felt 100% true, I didn't know what to say what to respond that story.
"That part of toi story has never been told." He stood up fast and into his pose. "Do toi tell stories at all." I stood up confident and smiling. "I do, just I put them on many layers of paper." He gave me an are-you-serious look. "Like a book?" my lips pressed together as I nodded.
"I write teenage novels and children's livres and don't give me that look, have toi ever read a book ou even picked one up?" He shook his head a little embarrassed. "Wendy always read them to me, but yes I would pick livres up all the time, who do toi think got the book off the bookshelf?"
I giggled s bit at his comment. I looked up at him and his face in a matter of secondes went from serious to creeply excited. "Come to Neverland with me." My smile faded and I grew terrified he was loosing his mind again. What do I say?
I started backing up towards the door as he ran towards the open window. I stopped as I realized he wasn't going to stop then he flew out of the window and went down. I ran for the window and as I reached it and peered down he zoomed up and back into the room and spun around in the air.
I must be sleeping, that was it, I fell asleep while reading.
I stood completely still as he lowered himself to the ground in front if me. He walked around me and stood on the window frame. He just started at me with a little smile on his lips. He held out his hand and a dit "Lets start a new generation of Wendy's, come to Neverland." I believed him every word. I took his hand and in a fast movement I was in the sky slowly watching the house shrink behind us.
I fell off my lit leaving my lit in between me and the window. I would have gotten up to shut the window doors but that was before a figure entered the opening.
There was enough of a shadow cast over the body that toi couldn't make out any features. But I could tell that it was a man. He stood with a sturdy pose his legs locked in place, his arms on his hips, his head held high with no fear.
He hopped down off the siège that was placed in front of the window and onto the old carpeted floor. His pose loosened as his feet hit the ground, quite silently considering how old the house was.
He slowly walked around the room. I stayed kneeled at the side of the bed, my eyes peering over the unmade sheets. I watched him pick things up and study them then just drop them back into place.
"And what daughter are you?" He asked. My eyes widened, he knew I was there the entire time. But I made no noise I didn't make one déplacer and yet he was talking to me as if we had been in a conversation since he burst threw my hotel windows.
"I'm sorry, daughter of who?" He spun on his heels, his ours feeted heels, facing right at me. I stood straight up as straight as I could. He took a few steps towards me.
"What generation of her granddaughters are you?" He asked again, slowly as if I was a complete idiot missing the conversation.
I had a total stranger burst into my hotel room, not par the door but par the seconde story window. Not only that he was completely mad. I decide the only way I was going to make it out alive with out him killing me in some psychopathic maniac way was to try to play along.
"What would my grandmother," I shook my head and changed the word. "great-grandmothers name be." He looked at me a bit confused as he placed his hands on his hips again just like when he had barged in. "Wendy"
"Okay and what is your name?" His hands that laid on his hips slid off to his sides. "Your grandmother hasn't told toi about me? My name's Peter Pan."
I shook my head, as a child Peter Pan was my favori story. My mother read a couple chapters a night and when she finished the book she would read it over again. In fact the reason I chose this small not so 21st century comfort hotel was because this was the house that J.M. Berrie based Wendy and her two brothers house on.
So this kid well not so much a kid as maybe a eighteen ou nineteen an old things that he's Peter Pan a childhood fairy tale character.
"So now that I have explained myself to you, what granddaughter are toi of Wendy's?" I shook my head. "I'm not related to Wendy." He looked as if he didn't believe me. "Then what are toi doing in her house." His voice was getting angry and I was becoming a bit scared.
"Peter, this house is no longer owned par Wendys family, it hasn't been for years. It's ow a hotel." He looked at me odd. "How many years?" "Its been a few decades."
His strong featured face turned turned softly into a heartbroken disappointment. He slowly sank to the floor. His eyebrows pushed together. My body loosened up and moved very slowly to his sunken body. I sat down on my legs in front of him.
Softly I asked, "If your Peter Pan, why aren't toi a boy? toi don't look quite like a man but toi certainly don't look like a boy." His teary eyed face looked up at me. "You've heard my story?" I raised my eyebrow quickly then let it drop. "Your story is quite famous." He smiled to himself. "Wendy was truly an amazing story teller." I shook my head and agreed.
He took a deep breath composed him self and sat up straight. "I am not a boy because of Wendy. If toi know my story then toi know that I did not come and stay with Wendy and the Lost boys but went back to Neverland." he paused and waited for my response in which I smiled and nodded.
"I'm not quite sure how long it had been since I left Wendy and the Lost boys but Wendy was not a child when I came back to hear plus of her stories. I'm not quite sure why I chose to stay but I did and she took care of me. Years went par and I started to grow up; one evening I was looking out that window." He pointed to the still open windows. "and I saw the star, big and bright and Neverland came flooding back into my mind." he pause and waited a bit to continue.
"So that night I went threw my little chest I had under my lit and I found pixie dust. It was quite easy to remember how to fly." I smiled. "A little faith and pixie dust." I a dit with a little smile remembering my mother saying it to me. "I got up in the air and just went straight vers l'avant, vers l’avant out the window and towards the star." He looked away from me and at the ground."I guess it's been quite a lot of years since I came back the last time I came it was Wendy's granddaughter who stayed in this room."
I was pulled into his story so much that if felt 100% true, I didn't know what to say what to respond that story.
"That part of toi story has never been told." He stood up fast and into his pose. "Do toi tell stories at all." I stood up confident and smiling. "I do, just I put them on many layers of paper." He gave me an are-you-serious look. "Like a book?" my lips pressed together as I nodded.
"I write teenage novels and children's livres and don't give me that look, have toi ever read a book ou even picked one up?" He shook his head a little embarrassed. "Wendy always read them to me, but yes I would pick livres up all the time, who do toi think got the book off the bookshelf?"
I giggled s bit at his comment. I looked up at him and his face in a matter of secondes went from serious to creeply excited. "Come to Neverland with me." My smile faded and I grew terrified he was loosing his mind again. What do I say?
I started backing up towards the door as he ran towards the open window. I stopped as I realized he wasn't going to stop then he flew out of the window and went down. I ran for the window and as I reached it and peered down he zoomed up and back into the room and spun around in the air.
I must be sleeping, that was it, I fell asleep while reading.
I stood completely still as he lowered himself to the ground in front if me. He walked around me and stood on the window frame. He just started at me with a little smile on his lips. He held out his hand and a dit "Lets start a new generation of Wendy's, come to Neverland." I believed him every word. I took his hand and in a fast movement I was in the sky slowly watching the house shrink behind us.
I loved to write songs. These beautiful poems of love, heartbreak, life and misery. I still do. Shame they'll never reach the world as I hoped.
But, life is life and death is well, death. I wish I could still play with Eyes Of The Wolf, my old band. I remember the lullaby I wrote for Jannet when she had nightmares.
'Prr, Prr
Of the Cat on the mat so peaceful
Cheep, Cheep
Of the Bird in the garden so alive
Neigh, Neigh
Of the Horse on the racecourse so rapide, swift
Woof, Woof
Of the Pup in the tulips so playful
But now please my dear Jannet rest
So tomorrow toi take life's suivant test'
I still sing it to her every night. But she can't hear me now. Maybe i'm just not chant loud enough. Sometimes she hears me sing a few lines. I know because sometimes when I sing she'll start crying. I don't know why. Maybe she misses me. ou maybe I scare her. I don't know. The world is a very strange place
But, life is life and death is well, death. I wish I could still play with Eyes Of The Wolf, my old band. I remember the lullaby I wrote for Jannet when she had nightmares.
'Prr, Prr
Of the Cat on the mat so peaceful
Cheep, Cheep
Of the Bird in the garden so alive
Neigh, Neigh
Of the Horse on the racecourse so rapide, swift
Woof, Woof
Of the Pup in the tulips so playful
But now please my dear Jannet rest
So tomorrow toi take life's suivant test'
I still sing it to her every night. But she can't hear me now. Maybe i'm just not chant loud enough. Sometimes she hears me sing a few lines. I know because sometimes when I sing she'll start crying. I don't know why. Maybe she misses me. ou maybe I scare her. I don't know. The world is a very strange place
Heyy there, I know in my last entry I a dit I would write on Friday- but I didn't. Theres actually loads of things that have happened to me in the last few days/week. Im not gonna tell toi though! I had no commentaires on the last entry but as soon as I get some feedback im gonna start écriture to toi again- Im a very busy person. I go to school, I play football (soccer-(Im english)-) along with my écriture I also sing alot so I have many things to do/practice. Go look for my last entry and toi will understand partly why im jabbering on :) l’amour to the people of the earth~ Cait xxx- 20th September 2011
The car crash changed my life. It changed so much, that i'm not even living anymore. I walk the earth as a kinderd-spirit. Dead, forever. I follow my family sometimes. At one stage they actually thought they had a souris infestation. For the one hundredth time i'm sorry I broke your vase,Jannet. My daughter, she loves collecting china and other lovely trinkets and stuff like that. For a sixteen an old she does have a lot. But Mike on the other hand, he loves cars,wants to become a famous race car driver. I worry for him, making his dreams so young, I did too. And look where it got me! Dead in my husband's car right in front of my kids! Of course, that was many years ago. On the road to becoming a famous song writer.
Memories and grief of my heart
Are still buried somewhere
I can’t cry neither I can freely laugh
What if they don’t know my past
I have not forget it yet
I still remember the same Zean with the same Zeal
But not in flashes neither in cars
In backstage of life with trembling hunger
Hunger in eyes and lips dry
No money in pocket but Zeal on shoulder
With memories of ‘Love’ and burning heart
Now my clothes are branded
And my shoes are best, pocket heavy with dollars
But with this all my cœur, coeur is all heavy
With secrets of past
Pleasures can bury them but cannot vanish
I still look vers l'avant, vers l’avant to death
When all my secrets will disappear, my pain will end
Also with my life..end will come to my BAD MEMORIES.
Are still buried somewhere
I can’t cry neither I can freely laugh
What if they don’t know my past
I have not forget it yet
I still remember the same Zean with the same Zeal
But not in flashes neither in cars
In backstage of life with trembling hunger
Hunger in eyes and lips dry
No money in pocket but Zeal on shoulder
With memories of ‘Love’ and burning heart
Now my clothes are branded
And my shoes are best, pocket heavy with dollars
But with this all my cœur, coeur is all heavy
With secrets of past
Pleasures can bury them but cannot vanish
I still look vers l'avant, vers l’avant to death
When all my secrets will disappear, my pain will end
Also with my life..end will come to my BAD MEMORIES.
