I didn't know where else to put this since it technically doesn't fit into any of the off topic forums... but what happened to this place? I took a VERY VERY VERY long hiatus, checked up only occasionally, but now.... everything is different. I used to roleplay in the "It's a Beautiful Day" thread, and when I went to check it out in my subscriptions folder, it was gone. And I have no posts now..... and I'm very confused. and foxxie's gone :nono:. has the world gone mad?!?!
My Facebook graffiti art. Feel free to post your own. Also, comments are welcomed!! notes: pic 1= Charlie Chaplin, who is amazing! pic 2= One of the Davies brothers who originally inspired J.M. Barrie to write "Peter Pan." The background sux, but I was lazy...XD pic 3= Audrey Tautou as "Amelie"- I worked the hardest on this one.
Just thought of some of my childhood favorites and had a strong sense of nostalgia... 1. The Land Before Time 2. An American Tale 3. Hook 4. Casper 5. The Last Unicorn Anyone else remember their childhood movies? Thoughts on the ones I mentioned?
For some time now I have been looking for female Vexen art since I RP Vexen as a woman... but I have not found any, atleast not any that I like. So I decided to draw some myself. These are my first Kingdom Hearts fan art, so enjoy! Critiques and comments welcome! Oh, and on the second picture... don't ask why Vexen is in normal clothes... the Org. coat was too much for me. I'm not very happy with the second one, but whatever.
So is Vexen really the least favorite Organization member? I mean, he's one of my favorites (considering that I RP him), but he always seems to be the last character chosen in RPs and everyone seems to just really not like him. Any fans out there?
Arrrr, maties, today be national talk like a pirate day, see. So let me hear ye guteral foul mouths talk away! Yarrr! And on a more scholarly note, Sept. 29th is the beginning of "Banned Books" week, so keep in thought the unacceptable censorship still alive today. YARRR! *steals yer treasure and goes off sailing in the open sea*
Funniest song ever! Check it out! (ignore the video, though, its not good...) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znrHK93Wfdw
Anybody else know this amazing band named YES? They are a 70's rock/progressive band and they are one of my favorites.
http://www.acrosstheuniverse.com/ A new musical that premieres September 28th. It takes place in the 60s during/before the Vietnam war, and the visuals in this film are AMAZING! It definitely seems very different from any other musical I have ever seen! I think its my most anticipated movie of the year, next to "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix." Check it out with the link above! Summary taken from IMDB: An original musical film, Across The Universe is a fictional love story set in the 1960s amid the turbulent years of anti-war protest, the struggle for free speech and civil rights, mind exploration and rock and roll. At once gritty, whimsical and highly theatrical, the story moves from high schools and universities in Massachusetts, Princeton and Ohio to the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the Detroit riots, Vietnam and the dockyards of Liverpool. A combination of live action and painted and three-dimensional animation, the film is paired with many Beatles songs that defined the time.
This is a Spanish movie that had come out in the US in select theaters recently. I have not seen it yet but the trailers for it have been all over the TV. It has awesome reviews and looks amazing. My sis got to see it early because she takes acting classes at an art school and her teacher has special privaleges... and she said it was amazing. I'm excited about this movie. You can see the trailers by going to the Pan's Labyrinth official website. Just search pan's labyrinth in google and you should find it.
This is from www.truthout.org. I'm not so much looking for replays as I am putting this out there for everyone to read. I'm sorry if this is in the wrong forum. A Sentinel in Time By William Rivers Pitt t r u t h o u t | Columnist Thursday 28 December 2006 The calendar pages of our collective history are dotted with a gloomy constellation of days marked in blood, in woe, and in regret. The assassinations of Lincoln and Kennedy; that last, hurried helicopter flight from that last rooftop on that last day of our time in Vietnam; the day four lifeless little bodies were pulled from the rubble of a bombed church in Birmingham; the December morning when Pearl Harbor was transformed into a graveyard etched in infamy, the September morning when we all watched those proud Towers in Manhattan crumble and fall - these moments, and the others of like kind too vast in number to name, defined us and transformed us even as they left their scars. Sometimes, when such a grim milestone passes, we can say to ourselves, yes, it was this terrible day that revealed and released the strength, courage and perseverance which came, in time, to define that moment. We can, with deserved pride, glory in the memory of our passage through those crucibles, confident in the hard-won knowledge that we all have the capacity to overcome any trial, and that surpassing good can be forged in the fires of sorrow and pain. Too often, however, we come to remember a day of darkness as bereft, with empty hands and hollowed hearts, deprived of the chance or ability to do more than bow our heads and wish it could have been, somehow, different. It requires a long passage of time, in most instances, to allow the cold realities of such days to sink in, and to absorb the brutal totality of consequences we have been burdened to endure in the aftermath. Some moments linger, haunting us, seemingly beyond redemption or solace. Worst of all, such days breed more days to match or surpass them. The wretched offspring of one malignant moment are birthed into our future, where they wait like deep chasms in a darkened road. Like Booth's bullet, they cut a swath through time itself, and no matter our efforts or exertions, we never seem quite able to reach a place where we are free from their damned and damnable power to do us harm. On the twentieth day of this coming new year, we will mark the sixth anniversary of the moment George W. Bush stood before Supreme Court Chief Justice William Rehnquist, raised his right hand into a bitter wind, and swore to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States of America. This, in the fullness of time, may well stand as such a day. Everything we have endured these last six years - the death, the horror, the fear, the anger - was born that afternoon in Washington, DC. We have already suffered myriad consequences because of it - the shame of Abu Ghraib; the lingering fear of blue skies and airplanes; the ebb tide of freedom as rights become privileges too easily withheld, the bottomless sorrow stitched into nearly three thousand folded American flags while taps played to the wind - and it is a bleak certainty that further suffering born on that day lies in wait. Consider some other anniversaries we will mark in this new year. February 5th will be the fourth anniversary of Colin Powell's presentation before the United Nations, in which he stated without equivocation that Saddam Hussein possessed large stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction that could easily be delivered to terrorists for use against us. The invasion and occupation of Iraq, and all the bloody calamities to follow, became an inevitability on this day. It was not so much the presentation itself that sealed the deal - much of which was and remains laughably transparent - but Powell himself. Wreathed in the fawning adulation of the media establishment, the myth of his rectitude carried the day, thus damning untold thousands to death, suffering, and pain. March 19th will likewise be the fourth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, of "Shock and Awe," and of the moment a match was put to the fuse. Beyond the blood already spilled because of this day - blood like an ocean - is the carnage yet to come. Before much of this new year is gone, the only people still talking about "winning" in Iraq will be that small cadre of wretches who created this anniversary in the first place, whose monochromatic ideologies exploded an inescapable quagmire that will be generational in its impact upon us all. May 1st will be the fourth anniversary of the day President Bush stood before an assembled gathering of servicemen and women on the deck of the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln to gleefully declare, under a bright banner reading "Mission Accomplished," that victory in Iraq had been achieved. Little needs to be said here, because the obvious grossness of some moments requires no further elaboration, except this: Of the nearly three thousand soldiers killed in Iraq, and the nearly 47,000 soldiers wounded in Iraq, only the barest fraction fell before the first of May 2003. All the rest have come in the long days, weeks, months, and years since that bright banner was unfurled. December 17th will be the second anniversary of Bush's public confirmation that he had indeed authorized the National Security Agency to tap the telephones of countless American citizens - said taps having been undertaken without warrants. The Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act of 1978, a law requiring these warrants to protect citizens against undue governmental intrusion, was discarded out of hand through these actions. Despite the fact that almost no requests for FISA warrants have ever been denied, and that the parameters for obtaining these warrants are so broad that they can be obtained even after the surveillance is underway, Bush and his people deemed the FISA requirements too restrictive. On this anniversary, we mark the moment when a president placed himself above the law by fiat and suffered no consequences - the moment when each and every one of us stepped deeper into the doomed, imprisoned shadow of Winston Smith. These are but a small sampling of the moments, days, decisions, and consequences unleashed on January 20, 2001. Freighted with deadly potential, each of these was born that day, and each has itself become a singularity, a creator of mayhem and strife in its own right. As that first moment poisoned the potential of so many tomorrows, so now do these. The bomb that kills a child in Baghdad creates the father whose revenge will be gained by another's senseless death. The official lie that goes unchallenged clears a path for the deadlier lies to follow. A deliberate chip in the walls defending our rights is the perfect spot to lay in the pry bar, until the chip becomes a hole through which tyranny may pass with stunning ease. Thus, the anniversaries of woe are compounded; consequences spawned by consequences, and a future once defined by hope is transformed into a territory of dread. Yet, in spite of all the horrors arrayed before us, even as our uncertain future whispers its omens of grief from an unfathomable darkness, there is a simple and unassailable truth standing sentinel against despair. We are that truth - all of us, every one. We are a defiant counterweight that can tip the scales of history. The wellspring of limitless possibility and potential that is humanity's astonishing birthright bestows upon each of us the means to be the alchemists of our own fate. You are the bulwark, as this new year approaches: a defining line between the possible and the inevitable. The terrible moments of our past reach out to define our future, to create new anniversaries of mourning from the old. Only your will can keep this beast at bay. If you choose to, if you summon the courage and strength and perseverance that have served us well so many times before, the momentum of that cold January day and all the days that followed will be checked. You are stronger than history, if you choose to be so. The future is yours to create, if you choose to do so. The moments to come are yours. Let nothing and no one steal them from you. Guard them with your life, because that is exactly what they are. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- William Rivers Pitt is a New York Times and internationally bestselling author of two books: War on Iraq: What Team Bush Doesn't Want You to Know and The Greatest Sedition Is Silence. His newest book, House of Ill Repute: Reflections on War, Lies, and America's Ravaged Reputation, will be available this winter from PoliPointPress.
Although I do not favor one instrument over others, I do love the guitar. So I wanted to share my fav. guitarist and see other people's favs. Mine are (in no particular order): Steve Howe (from the band YES) Jimmy Page (from the band Led Zeppelin) Alex Lifeson (from the band Rush) Pierre Bensusan Steve Hackett (from the band Genesis)
I've seen this movie quite a few times now, and I am still as much in love with it as the first time I ever saw it! It really is a beautiful movie; the acting, cinematography, music, story, and characters were all fantastic! I have not read the book yet, though I will be reading it in English class next semester (I was going to read it last year but decided to wait for the Enlgish class...), but I want to because I fell in love with the movie. This really is a fantastic movie, and I recommend it to everyone (though it is a bit on the romatic side...)
I'm not sure if this is an appropriate topic for this site, but I'm going ahead with it anyways. Mods, just erase the topic if it isn't. Anyways, I've always believed in sex before marriage. why? well, to begin, i'm not religious so that is not "holding me back." but secondly, and most importantly, i believe that in order to romantically "love" someone, you should establish a physical relationship, one that includes sex. a big part of the success of a relationship, in my opinion, is that aspect of a relationship, and thus it should be founded before marriage to ensure that you really do love this person on all levels. sexual frustration can lead to many stress problems, ruining a relationship, and so it is important to know how you and your significant other perform in this area. anyways, for that sake of being appropriate, im going to stop. so, what are your opinions?
I hope that stories unrelated to Kingdom Hearts can be posted here. Anyways, this is a very long Peter Pan fanfiction that I have been working on. It is unfinished, actually very much so, but I would still like to post it so as to get feedback. It is about 14000 words so far, just to warn you. (mods, let me know if something like this is not allowed, though im quite sure it is...) I hope you enjoy it! ;) The Unchilding of Peter Pan “Imagination is more important than knowledge.†–Albert Einstein Prologue BOOM! What was that? The explosive sound resonated in his ears loud and clear. It sounded like… like some kind of a crash or a cannon shooting. But it could not be for he had never heard of anything like it before, despite his many adventures and encounters with cannons. He had no idea that this would be his greatest adventure of all. He had fought and defeated Indians and pirates and to this day never once failed in any of his crazy endeavors in the wild world he lived in. Yet, failure was in the air today. Quickly and without hesitation, he ran outside, suddenly thinking about the others and hoping that they were all right. His heart was racing in fear and, strangely, in excitement at the chance for an adventure. It had been awfully boring as of late. He pushed passed vines and bushes and finally reached the cliff looking out over the sea. In the spot where the pirate ship was usually located, there was red, bright red and orange flames jumping about, eating away at the dreaded wood that was his enemies. He stood frozen in utter disbelief as this massive beast raged on and his excitement disappeared. Smoke rose high over top, spreading like a hand reaching out for the land in which his home and life lay. Slowly, it was as if the hand of smoke were pulling the ship closer to his island, bringing with it the deadly flames that would undoubtedly engulf all in it’s path. Snapping out of his trance, Peter jumped off the cliff and flew back towards the secret tree in which he had spent so many years with the ones he loved and where his most precious memories resided. With each second the ship came closer, he flew higher and higher and sped up the rate at which he scanned the island. He was in search for even the smallest clue that may lead him to finding the boys, all the while steering towards the Redskin Village to warn the villagers. He had no idea what was going on and the fact that the Jolly Roger had been overtaken was frightening. The very moment he reached the sky above the village, it happened. The earth shook and trembled violently, waking the slumbering Redskins. Shouts of confusion filled the air and the villagers began to stumble out of their protective homes, their velvet faces full of fear. Other shouts came, too, far off in the direction of the Mermaid’s Lagoon. The lost boys. Peter was torn and hesitated. He wanted to go help the Redskins for they were his friends, having protected him since he had rescued their princess Tiger Lily. But his stronger ties with the boys kept tugging at him. He flew towards the Mermaid’s Lagoon. Peter’s eyes were hawk-like, calling upon all of their ability and straining to see the smallest detail possible. He was desperate to find his friends, but the harsh shake of the earth made it even harder for Peter to focus, and he was but a helpless child. But he did not give up. His ears, like his eyes, strained to hear for shouts, and, after Peter began to think that he was only searching in vain, his ears caught the shouts they were searching for. Following the sound, Peter spotted the boys, who were running towards the secret tree and being led by a small glowing light. Tinkerbell. Before his mind could process what he was doing, he began to race towards Tink and the boys, the air grabbing at him and holding him back, slowing him down. Still, he pushed forward until he reached his destination, sweating and tired. Tink saw Peter and desperately hugged his neck and the boys flocked around him, crowding him with worries and fears. Again a violent shake disturbed the land, followed by another explosive sound. They froze, their hazy eyes lost in the direction of the sound, looking but not really seeing. Suddenly, everything was happening at once. The ship, which had been slowly dragged by the ominous hand, finally touched land and abruptly set the trees nearby ablaze. Incredibly, at the same moment, the earth began to crack right under the boys’ feet. Their screams brought Peter’s attention to them and he instinctively grabbed for them. But there were too many. He caught Slightly and Curly, and one of the Twins caught hold of Slightly’s foot, but a whole was ripped into Peter’s chest as the others fell down the massive crack that continued to grow. Tinkerbell flew after the falling boys as Peter brought Slightly, Curly, and the Twin to safety at the secret tree, all the while struggling to keep his sanity as the image of the boys drowning in the darkness cramped his mind and thoughts. His world was crumbling away to pieces. It had been just yesterday that he had gone out with the boys on a pirate hunt. They had come back victorious and pleased with their accomplishment, celebrating with a pretend dinner. What had happened? He could find no explanation for this unwarned damage. As if lifting a giant boulder off of himself with strength that should not have been there, Peter pushed away his fear and sorrow and continued with a drone-like rhythm, mechanically flying to the rip in the earth as fast as he could, trying to see in the tangible darkness. For the second time in his entire life, Peter was truly frightened, with no trace of the seemingly ever-persistent happiness that defined him. The only other time that he had ever been this way was when he had seen Wendy grown up. But that was a long time ago. Upon seeing Tink’s light he joined her, his eyes searching as if they were programmed to. Peter had been degraded into an animal-like being, relying purely on his innate ability to survive. His mind had little, if any, power over his actions at this point. Tears slid down his cheeks as he saw Tootles, motionless and covered in the red paint of death. The other boys were staring, too. Peter approached the lost lost boy, took him into his arms, and unenthusiastically flew upward. He returned for the other boys and brought them back to the secret tree, where Slightly, Curly, and the Twin were in shock at Tootles’s death, his body set in a gather of flowers. When the last boy touched earth and Peter settled next to Tootles’s body, for it could no longer be called Tootles, a quiet crackling was heard. At first, no one acknowledged the sound, their minds boggled with the raw and barbaric truth of death that they were witness to. Sure, they’d killed many times before, and their friends had been killed, but never had they seen such a useless death in which no one but nature herself was to blame. Despite their shock, they felt the heat, and slowly but surely they realized the strong light approaching. Giving them but a second of time to mourn for their dead companion, the fire approached. Peter shot up, regaining some sort of logic and reason. He had forgotten the fire, the one that had lugged its way to disturb their home. “Run!†The lost boys obeyed, running with Tink following the direction of Peter’s finger. Peter grabbed Tootles, stubborn against death and naïve to truth. He began to fly above the boys, aiding Tink in finding a direction towards safety. It was a while before he realized that they were running right for the tear that had been the end of Tootles. “Stop,†he repeatedly yelled. He had to fight to be heard over the fire’s ravenous music, not to mention to break through the mental wall that the lost boys had subconsciously set up in their minds so as to block out the truth of the situation. Fortunately, he succeeded and changed their direction so that they could avoid the tear. Peter was sure that they now had a clear path to the shelter of the water, but he would not understand what was to happen next. The fire had reached the whole in the earth and inhabited its corridors and deep within, it came into contact with a substance that would be the end of Neverland. An explosion, not like the other previous explosions, was the result of this disastrous contact. Peter reflexively turned, only to quickly turn back to shield his eyes from the blinding light. Seconds later, Peter was blown away into the sky, Tink glued to his finger, the lifeless Tootles knocked out of his hands. The strength of the blow was too powerful for him to fly against, and the lost boys were separated from him. He was broken, and the only thing holding him conscious was the fact that Tinkerbell was still with him. He stopped above the clouds and looked down. It was destroyed, gone, taken from him by some explosion he couldn’t even begin to understand. Neverland had been like his body, holding within it all of the functions he could ever hope to need: the sea his protective skin, the island his muscle, and all of his favorite places his organs. And the tree his heart. But now it was dead. The paradise that had promised him everlasting youth, that had promised escape from growing up, from responsibility, and from a life of boredom behind a desk, was gone. All he had left was Tinkerbell. Slowly, Peter began descending to the fiery land that had once been his salvation, Tink leading him for he was lost inside himself. But the trouble was not over. Peter began feeling a slight pull as Tink and he steadily began speeding up towards the ex-Neverland. Was it his imagination, for his mind was so mixed up at the moment that it very well could be? But it wasn’t, because when he stopped, he had to fly up slightly to stay in place. What was happening?! “Tink… Tink, do you feel… do you feel tha…†But before he could finish, the end occurred. There was a pulling force so tremendously strong, but yet a pushing force of equal strength. And so it was that Tink was pulled down to the blazing inferno of a lost paradise and Peter, struggling to catch his long time companion, was pushed away with great force. He screamed out Tink’s name in a final act of desperation. Chapter One- The Legend The legend had been passed down for years and never once had it failed to come true. Since the days of the Darlings to her time now, Peter Pan’s yearly arrival was expected, though he came when he pleased, missing many of the spring cleanings he was scheduled for. But, nevertheless, he would come at least once in every descendant’s lifetime, or rather childhoodtime, for he would adopt the next Wendy-descendant when the former was grown up. And always the former would move on and forget the delight of her days with Peter, because that is what grown ups do; they forget Neverland, though they are never quite the same after it. Their aura forevermore carries a sort of warmth that only a child can truly experience. It is that magical warmth that makes these descendants so inescapably attractive after their wondrous adventures with Peter. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. She was the one to thank for all this. She was the first to join Peter, and thus admired by all her descendants. Her stories were passed on as part of the legend, though they changed ever so slightly with time. Therefore, like a thunderstorm that starts with a single drop of rain but grows into an out-of-proportions pour, the ideas of Peter and Neverland had slowly grown from a small change over the years to an out-of-proportions distortion. See, the lost boys had come home with Wendy, as the legend states, for they so longed for a mother. But they soon found that the only place they could accept as home was Neverland, and so they had returned. Life in Neverland had been exciting and adventurous while life in England was boring. Why, the only excitement they ever experienced in England was not having school on Saturdays. Of course, Mr. And Mrs. Darling had been quite sad and hesitant, though Mr. Darling was a bit relieved that they would not have so many costs, but they both decided that they should do what is best for the children, and letting them go back was best. Wendy had asked to go with the boys permanently, for she missed Neverland, but most of all she missed Peter. But Mrs. Darling would not allow it, for Wendy was her precious daughter and she could not bear life without her. And so it was that everything had returned to normal in the Darling house, with Wendy going back to Neverland only once a week every year, or every year Peter came. Yet, there was always a little touch of magic that could still be spotted around the house, most especially around Wendy. The legend was also very mistaken in saying that the infamous James Hook had been killed, and by all people, or things, by that ticking crocodile, who, by the way, still ticked. No, Hook had survived his encounter with Peter on that Night of Nights, and he had remained an enemy of the carefree Peter, the two still playing the endless game of Win-or-Lose. Of course, for Peter it was still a game. But for lonely Hook, it was a necessity. The day that Wendy, John, and Michael had returned, along with the Lost Boys, Hook had the mistaken belief that Peter had decided to leave as well. He became so empty and afraid that he almost took his life. He needed Peter and the endless battle they waged, for it gave Hook’s life purpose. Without that purpose, he was but a murderer surrounded by barbaric pirates, stranded on a limited island. But Hook did not kill himself, and he remained to play with Peter. Now, probably the worst mistake of the legend was the description of good ol’ Peter Pan, the boy who never grows up. The entire legend revolves around Peter, and so it is a crime that he should be portrayed different in any way. Peter was, without a doubt, the most carefree and fun loving child to ever be. He almost always had a smile on his face or in his heart, and he was always looking for some new exciting thing to do. Oh yes, he would look and the looking was quite a big part of the fun. Oh, and Peter was quite cocky. He loved himself and rightly did so for he was always coming up with new ideas and so should be fully credited with making life on Neverland fun. But Peter’s cockiness did have a limit, for he was a very considerate boy, especially when it came to mothers, or, more so, Wendy. And Peter knew perfectly well when to credit others. He was a very kind boy, and was oh so sweet to the Lost Boys. Though he would never admit to this, he loved them all very much. He was like an older brother to them, both because he was mentally a role-model and he was bigger than the other boys, all save Tootles who was his same age. But, yes, Peter was very considerate. What most people do not know is that Peter was a very intelligent boy. Why, if he had ever gone to school, oh, but he would never, he would probably have exceeded above all the other kids. He understood things quickly and thoroughly. Perhaps the only thing that kept him from being a genius was, his lack of education of course, but his innocent naiveté, for Peter was above all naïve. It was the only way for a little boy to be. That is what keeps one little. It is this quality that allows Peter to be so carefree and adoring, and also what keeps him from realizing such feelings as true love. But it makes Peter all the more desirable. Now, many have come to believe that Peter was a forgetful boy, and here they would be very mistaken. Despite what the legend may hint to, Peter has always had an incredible memory. He rarely forgets, especially people. He has never forgotten Wendy or any of the Lost Boys, even those that have truly been lost. And Peter, despite common belief, never forgot his mother, who was many times more beautiful than Wendy’s mother. Of course, Peter just chose not to think of her for she made him awfully sad. At times when he would be flying and she would pop into his head, he would fall slightly before regaining flight. This had happened once when he was thinking of Wendy, but it had not been such a fall as when he’d think of his mother. Peter also remembered his father, and lucky that he did for that memory is what kept Peter in Neverland. Peter’s father had been a highly respectable man, but a very empty man. He had wasted his life with growing up and greed for power, money, and acceptance, as so many do, and had died an incomplete man when Peter was very young. That had frightened Peter very much and caused him to go off to Neverland. He never returned to live in England because of this, and because of the pain of seeing his mother remarried and with a new child. She had closed the window on Peter permanently, and upon seeing this Peter clung onto Neverland tighter than before. Unfortunately, Peter never saw his mother’s broken heart, and perhaps it was for the best that he did not. But, yes, Peter remembered, and he remembered the good and the bad. They would say that he’d forget spring cleanings but really he’d just lose touch of them, for he had no awareness of time. But he would not forget them because he would constantly think of Wendy, and so in turn think of spring cleanings. Yet, Peter did forget sometimes. He had not forgotten Jane for she was Wendy’s daughter and he would never forget Wendy for she was the first and best, but he would occasionally forget the other descendants for they would sometimes only come for one week and never really enjoy Neverland. They would undoubtedly enjoy Peter whose charisma is so hard and nearly impossible to escape, but not Neverland. You see a week is very little time to spend in Neverland. And those who did not enjoy Neverland grew up much faster than those who loved, or even liked, Neverland. But Peter would forget those, too, because they were very boring after only a few days. Peter could also be very sorrowful at times, but he would never let others know, and so that is all to be said on the matter. Many believe that this false memory loss of Peter’s is what made it possible for him to be immortal and still so innocent. But the truth is that it is Peter’s ability to push away or discard thoughts that allows him to live an everlasting life of happiness. He was such a truly magical boy with an imagination beyond that of any other being that he could create happiness and forget sorrow. This trait is what made Peter stand out from others. For it seems that others cling onto unhappy events. Maybe they do so as a reminder of past pain so that they find themselves emotionally stronger the next time around. But for whatever reason they did so, the fact that they did was part of the reason why they grew up. They learned from previous harsh events to not commit certain mistakes or to not do certain things, and thus they learned responsibility and matured. Peter, on the other hand, did not and so continued carefree and spontaneous. Of course, the only disadvantage was that Peter remained a very sensitive boy expressively, prone to emotional outbursts. But this is just a small price for the gift that Peter possessed. So it is that Peter can finally be seen for who he really is and some of the mistakes of the legend can be cleared. But these things have not been cleared up to the descendants. They believe in the old legend. That is what Wendy believes in. Not the original Wendy, no, but the great x6 descendant of the original Wendy. Her grandmother did, too, though her late mother would have thought differently of the matter. And Ada, pronounced long A-d-short A, liked to think differently, too. She did so often, just as often as she dreamed that she would have had the luck upon birth to be a Wendy-descendant. But she was not, though she lived with the current Wendy and her grandmother, and about four other young girls. They lived together in an orphanage that Wendy’s grandmother, whose name must be given to make telling the story more convenient, Mary, ran after her husband’s death. But she only did so because she had no other thing to do. Her heart was too empty to have started an orphanage herself. Her daughter, Elizabeth, had been the most perfect Wendy-descendant, like the real Wendy in almost every way. Peter had never forgotten her and liked her best next to Wendy, though compared to Ms. Moira Darling no one was really liked, for in Wendy’s case it must have been that he loved her. But he was quite fond of Elizabeth who was a very spirited child and absolutely loved Neverland. She had loved the lost boys, too, and they had loved her in return, as much as they had loved Wendy. See, for the lost boys love was an easy thing, so they loved most of the descendants, though no one had loved or even liked Mary. It was probably so that she had been the least favorite. Even Hook disliked her. She had been a very strict “mother†and a very unenthusiastic participant in all of the games that were played. Poor Mary had grown up too quickly. She had very little of a child left in her by the time Peter had come to take her, and this had made her a very unhappy little girl. She had been plagued by greed, vanity, and other such rotten feelings that are foreign to the true child. Peter had chosen not to return for more spring cleanings while she was around. It’s a wonder that Elizabeth had turned out kind. And it is a wonder that her daughter turned out so rotten, and that she would have such a contradictory name as Wendy. These were the secret thoughts of Ada, though she dared not share them for fear of being abandoned by the orphanage, or grounded to the orphanage attic. She chose to keep in favor of the blasted place and Mary, because as much as neither was a good home nor a good caretaker, both were the only ones Ada had ever known. As far as she knew, her biological mother and father were dead. Had they been good people or dreaded people she would never know, nor could she remember. But she had herself convinced that they were good people and, if anything, better than Ms. Mary. But, alas, she was in the dark about them and cherished the poor family she had. None of the girls there were very special and she only sparingly spoke to them. As far as anyone could tell, Ada had no friends, but this is yet another mistake. She did indeed have a friend, and quite a grand friend with whom she would share all of her secrets and thoughts. That friend was Peter Pan. Oh, but she had never really met the young lad, no, though she had seen him at a very young age. But she had no strong memory of him. Ada spoke to him at night, though, when she would sneak out to the flower fields and look up at the sky. This was her happiness, as she was absolutely sure that he was listening to her. None of the girls of this current generation had seen Peter, save for Ada and Wendy, though they had been too young to remember. See, Peter had not come for Wendy yet, and Ada liked to think that he did so to purposefully avoid the spoiled little girl. Ada had a theory that Mary had been so terrible that Elizabeth escaped, but with a consequence: Wendy. Poor Elizabeth was too weak to completely fight off her mother’s influence and it grew within her and thus Wendy is who she is. Not to mention that Elizabeth had died when Wendy was only four, and Mary had taken charge of the young girl. But she had been rotten before then. Ada could remember for she had been with the orphanage for a very, very long time. She had spent much time with Elizabeth, though the woman died when Ada was but three years old. Still, Ada remembered her vividly, more so than Wendy, and she thought of her as the mother that she had never had. She’d often pretend that she had been Elizabeth’s daughter, and in this pretend she would be taken to Neverland with Peter. It was Ada’s ultimate pretend. Her mind had flown enough and finally she opened her eyes and met the twinkle of the stars. She sighed deeply and slightly trembled in the cool air. She had just had a grand adventure with Peter. They had fought Hook and an onslaught of pirates, and it had been exciting and dangerous and… completely wonderful. But she had spent enough time out in the fields and it was time to return. She needed her rest, of course, for she would have to be full of energy for the chores of the morning. She picked herself up, her long ruby red hair falling just below her shoulder blades, turned and tangled from the rustle and bustle of her adventure. She began walking back, picking out leaves and dead flowers from her hair and thinking, though of nothing in particular. She crossed the small bridge that ran over the river and admired the meadow before her. Quickly, she raced to the large dense forest and out to the street. She climbed up the old oak tree, its branches and twigs, barren at the moment, providing a tangle of supports on her way up to the third floor window. Slowly, she slid it open and took her last look at the sky that night. It was cloudless and the full moon shone with bright intensity. Off to the left she saw a star blow out, and it was followed by another most peculiar shooting star, more peculiar than any star she had ever seen. Quickly, she made a wish, which some may say is a selfish thing to do. But all little boys and little girls wish great wishes, oblivious to the selfishness of their desires. She wished to go home, wherever home may be. And she was content, and slid into her room, shut the window, got into bed, and soon she resumed her adventure, one of the many, with Peter Pan. ****************************** The lights flashed on and she stirred, her eyes heavy with sleep. Ms. Geena’s early morning call ripped her mind away from the dream she was so enjoying. It was but another day and Ada knew that it would be a very tiring day for she had overstayed her visit with the stars the night before. “Wake up, miss. It is morning and you must shower before breakfast.†Ada obeyed, being a girl who did not like to trouble others and understanding that Ms. Geena was a busy lady, cleaning, sewing, and doing so much for each of the little orphaned girls. Ms. Geena is the hired housekeeper; she takes care of all the “dirty work†that Ms. Mary is much too leisured to do. She, Ms. Geena that is, had been a mother of four many years ago. She had been quite a loving mother, though not special in any way. Ms. Geena did as was expected of mothers but made no effort to do more. And thus her children grew up and moved away. They rarely visited so Ms. Geena found this job to keep her busy and because she was convinced that she loved children, though almost all of the girls knew better. Ms. Geena was just an indecisive lady, lacking complete independence, who could not find anything better to do than follow the basic rule of society: men provide, and women raise children. And so Ms. Geena was not a very fun woman. She stuck to the rules and did as she saw fit, but, though she was kind to the girls, she was never tender to them, so a bond was never established. Unfortunately, for this really is a terrible thing, a bond was never established between anyone in the household and they were all just beings coincidentally living in the same quarters. Why is this such a terrible thing? Well, it really is quite simple. All people, grown up or not, need important bonds to other people. There must be someone on which to rely on and speak to. It is so very important to human growth and development. And because this simple but oh so precious bond was missing in the poor little orphanage, the poor little girls were not very happy. They were content and, yes, they mistook this as happiness, but it was not. It seems as though the only little girl who came close to happiness was Ada, but she was rarely happy, and only in the mental presence of Peter Pan. Nevertheless, if one is happy in imagination it counts just as much as happiness in reality. For what is the difference between the two? Ada quickly showered so that she may be down in time to prepare breakfast. It was her turn today to make tea and serve breakfast and so she was expected to wake up earlier than the rest, and she had to wake up even earlier in order to bathe. Showering before eating in the morning was a requirement, but Ada need not be told thus. She was always quite messy after her nights out in the meadow and so she showered out of necessity. She also did not want Ms. Mary to question why she would be so dirty and then find out about her nightly escapades. That would surely bring an end to them. After dressing in her uniform, which consisted of a white blouse with a long black dress pulled over, and of course knee high socks, Ada went downstairs to the kitchen, being ever so quiet so as to not wake the rest of the household. And thus her day began, just another day. But it would not be for long. Ada liked her tea and breakfast days very much because she was able to indulge herself in solitude. With such a crowd of girls it was somewhat difficult to find alone time, and Ada was the kind of girl who enjoyed being alone. In fact, and quite strangely, she was more alone when in the presence of the other inhabitants of the house than when she was by herself, only this type of alone was quite unpleasant. Ada was a rather peculiar child, but a rather extraordinary one. It is not so unexpected, for most peculiar people are extraordinary, and most extraordinary people are peculiar. Why, it was just the same with Peter. She finished making breakfast and still had five minutes before the rest of the house awoke in commotion, so she stole herself the first taste of a hot cup of English tea. Slowly sipping the burning liquid that relaxingly flowed down her chilled throat, Ada sat on a rocker in the sunroom. She was alone, but all the more in company. It had been such a boring breakfast and Ms. Mary had complained that the food was not well cooked. But Ada had sat through it, as she so often did, and then rejoiced when it was over. Unfortunately, since today was Wednesday, Ada and all the other girls had tutoring. Tutoring, also known as schooling, was simply horrible. And this schooling would go as follows: the girls were either huddled together in the second floor school room, which was rather small, or, on occasion, they would be set free in the spacious sun room. In either room, they were expected to sit still and learn for an excruciatingly long time. While Ada did not mind learning, and she so loved reading, she definitely did not fancy having to spend so much time sitting still and listening to so many boring things. And the worst part was that of all people to listen to she had to listen to Ms. June, who was not only a funny looking, stout, plump little woman, but who also had such a nostalgic high pitched voice. It was tortures to listen to her speak for such a long time. But she had to, as did all the other girls. Ada did enjoy tutoring sometimes, especially when it came to literature. Every two weeks the girls were assigned a different book to read, and Ada loved these assignments, though sometimes the book chosen would be a bit disappointing. Ada also adored the in class discussions about the books read and she participated eagerly. But her most favorite lesson had been in history when the girls had formally learned the Legend of Peter Pan and Wendy. She had so loved that lesson, as had Wendy. Wendy was a very spoiled young girl. Ms. Mary had filled her head with such praising facts about how she would be the next to join Peter and how this made her superior to others. And because Wendy had grown up hearing such praises since a very young age she became mentally superior in her eyes and acted accordingly. It is no surprise that things worked out the way they did because it is rare and improbable, for nothing is impossible, to find a child who is not shaped by his or her caretaker’s influences. What one experiences as a child is what molds one into an adult, and this is a very important thing to remember. We don’t want anymore Wendy’s so it is asked that one takes all this to heart. So, the days were quite unbearable at times, but Ada managed. She had her ways to escape. But for now she would sit and listen to little Ms. June as she aimlessly rambled on about the Greeks, a subject in which Ada was already very well learned. In fact, Ada was a very well rounded girl when it came to history and literature. She had always found herself engrossed by the two subjects and had thus taught herself much from each. It was math that she disliked, and she was impartial to science, thought she was still a good student when it came to these subjects as well. Still, she was a dreamer and so the former two subjects suited her. Lunchtime finally came, though it had seemed that it never would, and tutoring was over for the time being. The cook, whose name need not be mentioned, had prepared a light snack of tea and croissants. There were a variety of cheeses and meats to choose from to go along with the croissants and fresh orange juice to cool off a burning tongue. Ms. Mary sat at the front of the table. She did so seem to enjoy lunch, munching ravenously but properly, for she held herself in the best of manners, on a deliciously packed croissant and drank quite a handful of tea. It was a wonder that she had such a tiny frame. But Ada always concluded that Ms. Mary’s petite figure was such thanks to the wonderful Wendy genes, and to the fact that all mean ladies were ever so petite. To Ada, this was simple knowledge. After lunch the girls were let go to do as they pleased for half an hour. At this time Ada would find something enjoyable to do, either inside or outside. She never had an opportunity to go to the meadow then and had to wait till night. If she had gone now she would have found quite a surprise. But she did not go. Instead, she joined two of the girls, April and Becky, in a small game that had been invented by the three years ago. She usually did this at free time, or went out in the back, or in the sunroom if it was too cold, and read. Ada rarely had trouble finding something to do. She had quite an imagination, and this kept her entertained. It was bothersome how quickly that half hour of free time passed. It was the quickest half hour Ada ever experienced and she would always be shocked when the girls were called in for the final thirty minutes of tutoring. Only, oddly enough, this half hour was much longer. She often wished to change the two. But, alas, she was not able to perform such a feat, so she continued her days with a short half hour of free time and a long half hour of schooling time. She made the best of the situation, or at least tried to. After tutoring, the girls were, depending on the weather, either taken to the park for an hour or they would skip this and go directly to learning their housework. They would spend one hour in individual jobs, which consisted of sewing and knitting, cooking, cleaning, laundry, a least favorite amongst the girls, and mothering. Mothering was very much enjoyed because it was really more like a game than a chore. In mothering, the girls were to take care of a baby doll and learn how to do various things that a real baby would need done. Cooking was quite fun, too, though it was imperative that they cook well for they would cook their own meals. It was depressing to make a mistake in their dinner because they were given nothing else to eat but the bread the cook made, and sometimes their mistakes would create such a nasty concoction. Today, Ada would begin with laundry, and she so did not like this. But she tried to make the process a bit entertaining by pretending that all of the dirty clothes were those of the Lost Boys and Peter, and that she was doing their spring cleaning. Her method would have worked much better if Ms. Mary, Ms. June, and Mrs. Geena would not come to check up on her so often and break her imagination away from the pretend. But it did help some. After, she was sent to mothering, and she liked this part. Here she needed no Peter Pan pretend to have fun. Instead, she would play with the doll as if she was its real mother, and she was such a good mother to the inanimate creature. It is always so striking to see a young girl play mother to a child because of the girl’s amazing ability to so impersonate a real mother. It is almost as if instinct were taking over, though that is probably not the case. Still, each little girl did such a good job in mothering. It may have been their longing for a mother that made them so good at the game. So, Ada went on through the day, changing stations hour after hour. She went on to cooking, then cleaning, and finally sewing and knitting. She had no complaints and didn’t really question why she was made to learn all of these things. Most little girls don’t try to rationalize such teachings and simply accept them. But if Ada had thought about why she may have come across the ugly answer. All of these household teachings were used to prepare her and the other girls to grow up and fall into the expected route of a grown woman. They would soon have certain roles to play as mothers, wives, and women, and these daily activities were like rehearsals so that the girls could master their roles and grow up the right way. Ada probably would not have liked the activities, which she sees as merely tasks to be completed, if she had known the why behind them. But she did not know, just as the others did not know, and thus they were being obliviously led into a routine, expected life. There was no fighting back or rebellion. They simply did as their authoritative figures asked of them, and this should be expected of young girls. They have been brainwashed for years and so it becomes second nature. And what can be done to change this save change the course of history so that the first little girl was never brainwashed? Nothing. So, we leave things as they are, and Ada continues her daily chore lessons. But, finally, it is all over and the girls are given an hour break to make up for the lost time at the park. They rest from a long day of work, and some drink tea and eat crackers and cheese. Ada simply pours herself a cup of hot tea and goes off to read her book. She is anxious to escape to the meadow beyond, but complies with escaping to a book. Besides, she was really enjoying the book she was reading, A Wheel On The School. It did so entertain her. So, this is how she spent her time before dinner. When the grandfather clock down in the entrance room struck seven, no sooner and no later, Ms. Geena called all the girls to wash up before dinner. Then, all the girls sat at their assigned seats, Ms. Mary at one end, and Ms. June, at the other. Poor Ms. Geena was stuck in between two of the girls and sat directly across from Ada. Both found this to be quite bothersome, but, luckily, they did not speak to one another, or rarely did. The cook would bring out the meal that all the older women would enjoy and then bring the individual meals that each of the girls had prepared for themselves earlier. Fortunately, there had been no mistakes with their meals on this particular day. Of course Ms. Mary would say a short speech and prayer, putting in her two cents about the day’s turn about, and promptly after she finished everyone would begin eating. It was a silent dinner, as so many others that they’ve shared. There was a small and quiet conversation between Ms. Mary and Ms. June in which Ms. Geena would continuously try and be involved. But mostly she just sat and listened. She didn’t have much in her head and so could not carry on a good conversation. All her comments would be contradictory or redundant. So Ms. Mary and June, knowing this, just politely ignored her. What they did not know is that they themselves had very little in their heads. Oh, they had more in there than Ms. Geena, but still very little. Their conversations were extremely simple, nothing more than small talk and ridiculous insights. Ada would sometimes laugh in her head. She found the situation quite amusing. The girls would also talk with one another, though they were expected to speak quietly and politely. There was sometimes fun talks between them, but more than not their conversations were bland and carried on for the sole purpose of breaking the silence. All in all, dinners were much like the rest of the day. They were boring and not very fun. But they were necessary, both on account of the necessity of food, and the false necessity of teaching mannerism at the table. Of course all the dinner guests just thought that dinner was held as a sort of social time. Oh, they were mistaken. As soon as dinner was over, Ms. Geena and the cook would clear off the table and begin washing the dishes. Ms. June would lead the girls to the large washroom after they put on their nightclothes so that they may tidy up before bed. Each girl brushed her teeth, washed her hands and face, and took off to her room. They were expected to fall asleep immediately, though most took their time and thought. Ada would close her eyes and wait. Downstairs, Ada would hear all three of the elders and the cook chatter for a short moment. She would listen for the point in which they all walked up the first floor stairs and reported to their rooms. Then, she would stay still for about an hour, though probably less. It just seemed so long to her. She would continue to get up, slip on a light jacket, quietly open her window and look out. She always looked to the sky before climbing out. It was refreshing. Then, Ada would slowly climb down the tree, aided by a tangle of branches that seemed to reach over to her so to provide safe passage, and head to the meadow. This was her routine every night, but the routine would soon be broken. This night would prove to be very different and most extremely exciting. Chapter 2- The Night of Nights She was barefoot. It was the first night that she had forgotten her bedtime slippers and the first night that she realized just how many sticks and leaves there were to jab into her feet. She mumbled quietly to herself, complaining that her feet hurt. Yet, she did so quietly, not because anyone could hear her, but because the dark serenity of the forest compelled her to do so. The air was cold. She could tell that winter was on its way. She crossed the small bridge and walked out onto the dead flower fields. The space before her was vast, clean, and completely natural. There was no artificial lighting, no machinery, and no constructions. It was Mother Nature, pure and simple. This drew her away from reality and eased her mind. Out here she was not Ada, the young orphaned girl who would grow up into a miserable woman. Rather, she was just Ada. There was no past or future in this isolated meadow, just present. And she loved it. She laid her body down and her muscles were at ease. Staring up to the sky she noticed that the stars were unnaturally dim and she wondered why. But soon, her mind wandered off that topic. Ada breathed in the crisp air, smiling. She closed her eyes. ****************************** His head hurt. It hurt a lot. He wondered why but as the answer began to dawn on him he quickly pushed it aside. He didn’t care to know it because it hurt him more than his head. Instead, he decided to get up and observe his surroundings. With one or two simple glances about this strange forest he knew that this was not his home. He was no longer in Neverland. Instead, he had somehow ended up on Earth. He recognized this forest very much, but he couldn’t remember where from. He began walking around only to soon realize that all of his body hurt, not just his head. But he ignored this. He was eager to explore his surroundings. He would have been eager to go home, but for some reason he wouldn’t let himself think about Neverland. He knew why, deep down inside, but the answer was too deep for it to become clear to him. So, for the moment he forgot about Neverland, and instead climbed a tall tree. He wanted to get a full view of his surroundings, while enjoying the exercise that climbing the tree provided. Branch over branch he scaled, his sore muscles being naturally massaged by the stretching that the climbing called for. He was happy, and surely the thought or remembrance of Neverland was gone. His carefree smile was once again present on his innocent face, and he sighed in a deep gulp of air. The smell of the cold winter frost that was approaching relaxed him. He looked out over the meadow, his trained eyes searching quickly, yet thoroughly, for what, he did not know. He wanted to find out where he was, but mostly he was just enjoying himself. This was just another world to explore, and he was not bothered by grown-up worries and doubts. He caught the movements of the night as all the creatures that are non-existent in morning came out of hiding. He saw snakes, and owls, and tiny mice. A squirrel ran up a tree, grasping a nut in its small mouth. It was the society of the dark that unfolded before him. It was peaceful and amusing. Suddenly, his eyes spotted some odd movements to his left, and he fixated on the area. Maybe it was a pirate, was the first thing that jumped into his mind. He froze, like a true hunter, and watched. Surely enough the movement continued. He was able to recognize the outline of a small person, obviously not big enough to be an adult, and so most definitely not a pirate. Still, he was curious. He decided to move forward and get a better look. ****************************** It was late, and she knew that she would be tired the next morning. Ada stood up and brushed herself off. She had felt strange this night, empty and cold. Not the kind of cold you sense when you walk out into a snowstorm, but rather the kind that causes an eerie chill down your spine. She found this to be quite disappointing, as she had been looking forward to the sensation of release that her escapades usually brought her. She was unsatisfied, but knew that if she stayed out any longer she would have no luck in finding her “happy placeâ€, so she started on her way to the orphanage. Her brow wrinkled as she pondered why she felt so odd. She was deep in thought when she noticed a slight crackling sound come from behind, like a breaking of dead leaves and twigs. She turned on impulse, and just as she did she regretted her action, not wishing to meet face to face with whatever was behind her. But there was nothing, not a being nor animal in sight. All that stood before her were the trees and bushes of the forest, highlighted by the soft light of the moon, making them ever so intimidating and enigmatic. She had never realized how disquieting her midnight walks were, and she lamented doing so now, knowing that all her future walks would be full of panic and uncertainty from this day forward. Little did she know that she was experiencing one of the last of her ritualistic nightly endeavors. Hurriedly, she began to turn to go back to her present residence, for she never thought of the orphanage as a true home, rather just a lodging she stayed at for the time being; but, just as she made a full circle, she toppled over some strange bush that had somehow found its way in front of her. She rubbed her knee and wondered why she had not seen anything in front of her before, though she figured that her fright caused her to be inattentive. Still, she looked up and ice covered her from head to toe. Before her was a figure, silhouetted by the moonlight. She would have screamed had she not been frozen. She would have run, too. But she did not, and lucky for her because the moments of hesitation gave just enough time to really look at this character, a sinewy being no larger than a young boy. He was but a foot away, standing over her, erect and yet curious. She was still scared despite his size, or rather, his lack thereof; but her heart slowed down, and she calmed ever so slightly. He moved. His head tipped slightly to the right, as if saying, “Well, this is an interesting thing.†She inwardly giggled at this, bewildered by her odd reaction in such a dangerous situation. He squatted in one swift motion, giving her no time to react. Suddenly, she was staring straight into the glowing eyes of this boy who had rudely intruded upon her night, his breath soft on her and oh so close. As she peered into his large green iris, which studiously examined her face, she could make out some sort of picture. She could not believe it, but in it she was able to envision the laughter and joy of children and fairies. It was like seeing a world of bliss. She was enraptured to the point that she did not see his hand reach out to her. It was only when the tip of his fingers lightly touched her cheek that she pulled away. She felt the spot where his fingers had just been. It was warm. “Who… who are you?†She managed to stutter the words. The boy again cocked his head. He seemed surprised that she could speak. Then he answered, “My name is Peter, young miss. What’s yours?†Her body flinched. Peter, did he say? Peter? But this young boy, despite his magical presence, could not be that Peter. The fact that she could not believe this was a bit funny for she had spent her entire life believing that this very meeting would one day occur. Yet now, when such a possibility arises, she denies its truth. Of course, this could not be the Peter she was thinking of. No particular reason existed as to why not, but after so many years of imagining Peter in Neverland, so far away and impossible to reach, she could not believe that he would be here, so close as to be able to physically touch him. So no, this was no that Peter, rather he was simply an odd young boy who coincidentally shared his name with the boy of her dreams. Peter had been waiting for an answer, giggling inside at the odd faces that the young girl was making. She seemed puzzled and her brows wrinkled here and there, her mouth opened, closed, and then opened some more, and her eyes squinted and enlarged until they looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. Peter asked again. “Well, girl, tell me: What is your name?†Ada looked up, as determined as possible to believe that this kid was normal. She slowly examined him and saw that he looked perfectly normal, except for his odd clothing. He was filthy, too. But he was younger than she, and the Peter that she knew had always been her age. He had to be her age, because she always thought him to be so in her dreams. “What’s your name, girl? If you don’t wanna tell me I guess I’ll have to call you girl, or some other thing of that sort. But I told you my name. I don’t see why you can’t tell me yours.†At this, Peter furrowed his brow and lessened the gap between his face and hers. She was a bit shocked, but he managed to get her mind out of her thoughts. “Ada, my name is Ada.†She said this in a low whisper because his face was still very close to hers and she felt very awkward. Still, for some reason she could not pull back. This foreign Peter seemed to command some sort of power, which compelled her to stay just where she was. It was not that he frightened her into freezing as she had, rather he had charmed her into it. “Ada.†He seemed to be playing with the name in his mind a bit, pulling away from her. “Well, get up. I haven’t finished exploring this forest, and now that you are here, you can come with me.†He turned and began to walk back slowly. “Do you know where we are?†Ada took her time to get up. She was still shocked at this encounter. “Yes, I do. We’re in the meadows a bit from my orphanage.†Then she added, “In London.†Peter stopped. London. That sounded awfully familiar to him. He continued to walk. As Ada followed him, by this time forgetting how tired she was and that she would need to return soon, she asked, “Where are you from, Peter?†Suddenly, a flying hand swiftly covered her mouth. “Quiet, girl.†She looked at him, and his eyes were searching rapidly about. He didn’t seem frightened, not at all. His eyes were smirking even though his face was expressionless. And his ears seemed to move about searching for a sound, even though they couldn’t really move. Then she heard a ruffle in the leaves. She froze and her heart began to pound faster. She had had enough surprises this night, and although this Peter she had found had not been dangerous, she doubted such luck would befall her again. As the noise became more clear, Peter’s body seemed to soundlessly arch like a cat’s when it is ready to pounce. And suddenly, he jumped forward and landed on a small furry animal, just as Ada whimpered at this sudden movement. He stood frozen, his back turned to her, and she walked curiously to see what he had captured. As he slowly turned, she saw a creature with long ears and big legs in his arms, and then she saw the thing’s big eyes wildly moving back and forth. She smiled as she realized that he had caught a rabbit, a tiny one that was very much afraid by this sudden abduction. She slowly approached it and very carefully caressed it. At first the poor thing jumped a bit, but then it relaxed. “What is it?†asked Peter. He seemed very entertained by the creature. Ada stared at him with a bit of doubt. How could any person not know what a rabbit was. It was quite a common creature, and if ever a child has heard any bed-time stories, then surely he or she must know about the Velveteen Rabbit and other such tales. Peter looked at her eagerly, and she realized that he truly did not know. “It’s called a rabbit. It’s a harmless creature, and it is probably very frightened right now. Why don’t we let him go?†And Peter did, ever so carefully. And the rabbit rapidly hopped off into the dense woods. Peter was about to continue his little adventure, but Ada stopped him. “Where are you from, Peter?†Her heart fluttered a bit, because she finally gave the idea of him being that Peter a chance. “I’m from Neverland.†He stated this so matter-of-factly that she did not and could not doubt him. “Peter? From Neverland?†He turned to her, answering to his name, but she was completely swallowed by excitement and happiness. “Peter Pan?†Her body tingled. “Yeah, that’s right.†He did not understand why she was so astounded, and her reaction slightly scared him. He thought it quite odd. Ada reached out to touch him. She had already made contact with him, but that was before she had known who he really was. She touched him arm, and he touched hers, thinking that this must be some sort of game. She laughed a bit, and pulled away. She didn’t care that he was younger than she, for he was Peter Pan all the same. “Then you are here to see the descendants?†Peter looked puzzled, for he was not aware that the girls that he has been taking to Neverland with him were descendants. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Realizing this, Ada added, “Wendy’s daughters.†“Wendy? Do you know Wendy? She was such a grand mother.†And then he remembered this forest. It was smaller than before, but this is the same one he flew over every time he went to see Wendy and all of the other girls. He was delighted that he had landed in such a place. “Then you really are Peter Pan.†She said this only to reassure herself that this was true, for she was quite overwhelmed at how grand a moment this was. Unfortunately, this feeling did not last, for she remembered who she was, and she was not Wendy’s descendant, and thus she could not go with Peter. “Let’s go to Wendy’s house! Every time I go there, these funny ladies give me a drink called tea and giggle a lot. They always make me laugh. I don’t know why they do those things, but they’re fun to watch. Come on, I want to play with them.†He urged her along, though he was going in the wrong direction. He didn’t know his way about the trees for he had always flown above them and never actually explored through them. He still urged her forward, because direction was not something he thought about. He just walked and expected to be where he should be. He was quite out of practice in walking. Even though Ada was disappointed at her realization, she giggled as she imagined Ms. Mary and Wendy pouring him tea. She could understand his odd behavior to this alien tradition of theirs. “I suppose we must go there. It is awfully late. But they are all asleep right now, and they would be awfully cross with me if they discovered that I had been away at night.†She pulled him back. “And, Peter, you are going the wrong way.†Peter stopped. “They will get cross with you? What do you mean?†“Well, I’m not suppose to be out here, and Ms. Mary, that’s my caretaker, will be very angry with me.†Peter cocked his head. Ada liked it when he did this. It only made him more innocent-looking than he already was. Ada said, “If I go home now, and then come get you in the morning during my break time, I’m sure that no one would get angry.†She didn’t really want to leave. She wanted to join Peter in some grand adventures, to fly away and fight pirates and Indians, and to play with the Lost Boys. But she knew that she could not. “But I want to explore some more!†And she understood that he meant that he wanted to explore with her. And her selfishness to be with Peter Pan, the boy who never grows up, was much too strong, so she decided to stay, but only for a while. She would return to the orphanage later and then come get Peter during her break. So she said she could stay and explore, and they both went off into the forest. ****************************** Ada swiftly crept back into her room and went to shower. She had helped Peter capture some more animals, and they had chased an owl. Peter had climbed up a tree to touch it, but it had “whoooed†at him and flown away. She was quite enchanted by Peter, so much enchanted that she had not though about the fact that he had climbed the tree and not flown up it. He had not flown at all that night, but she did not take notice of this. Instead, she had enjoyed herself playing with the delightful child. Presently, she stepped into the shower under warm water and cleansed herself. She was exhausted. She made her shower as quick as possible, for her adventures had made her the dirtiest she had ever been. She dried herself off, put on her nightgown, and went to sleep… But only for a short time. She had much overstayed her time with Peter and was able to sleep for only three hours. Luckily this was not her day to make breakfast. ****************************** Carla shook John softly. She had woken early from her anxiousness. Today was a big day for them both. She had dressed and gone off around the town. She loved the morning, when the air was fresh and the sun soft, and when very few people were out. She enjoyed having time to herself. “John, wake up. We need to eat and be ready to leave by a quarter to nine, darling.†John woke up, his eyes heavy with the sand of sleep. “Huh? Oh, Carla. Yes, I’m getting up.†He threw off his satin sheets and threw on his robe, making his way to the kitchen. John and Carla were a young couple, age twenty-nine and twenty-seven respectively. They were an unorthodox pair, John a writer, and Carla an artist. John had become quite popular with his gripping intellectual mystery novels. He had been raised in a liberal home, with parents who traveled the globe. He has never fancied the life of a business man and quite enjoyed adventure. As a young teen one of his professors had realized his talent and had supported him in pursuing the career of a novelist. John went to a university and studied writing, though as much as the history of it pleased him, he loved more the process of it, so he was never the top student. Besides, he spent much of his time reading, writing, or enjoying life. He thought that having to learn writing in a school was a bit silly, because to really learn it one must enjoy it passionately and read everything that comes his way. That was the way John saw it. His parents had supported him all throughout his life, though they had gone off to live their life in Italy; Venice to be exact, though they didn’t settle for long, continuing their life of travel. Carla was raised in a very conservative home, her father a preacher and her mother a housewife. She had gone to a religious school all her life, but she had grown away from all that at an early age. She was a rebellious pacifist. Her parents had attempted to marry her off to a rich lord, but she had escaped at eighteen. She had found a home with an old uncle, who was everything her parents were not. She had always shown a passion for art, but her parents had never allowed her to even fathom the idea of being an artist. Her uncle encouraged it, and she was brilliant at it. She was recognized by a rather famous artist and granted a place at an art university. John and she had met at a ball held by the university. They had been intellectually attracted from the beginning. They had spent time debating, learning, and laughing together. They had never married, being the kind to shun social teachings. Yet, they loved one another, and they each made quite an earning. Their house was lovely and sophisticated, with an old Victorian feel. There was almost as much art as there were books. The abode was large, but not too big, and they had no servants. The two were quite independent. Despite all the grandeur , they lived quite a modest life, with adventurous journeys mixed in every now and then. They had traveled quite a bit, John having passed on the love of it to Carla. The two were very much involved in the art university that Carla had attended. They published works through the college and were present at meetings and ceremonies. They were also politically active, though they disliked the workings of politics. After breakfast, John dressed. Both he and Carla had suited themselves in very fine clothing, for they wanted to look their best for the day ahead. ****************************** Ada had dressed herself rather clumsily and joined the rest of the girls and the caretakers at the breakfast table. She spent well over half an hour in quietude, debating with herself whether her nocturnal adventure had been a reality. From her aching muscles and tired body, she deduced that it had been. Before breakfast was over, Ms. Mary arose. The entire table fell silent. “Girls, we have cancelled the morning and afternoon events today. We are having quite a few families coming to see you all today and I ask that you all are on your very best behavior.†The table was full of small whispers and chatters. The girls were ecstatic, for they all very much wanted to be adopted. The orphanage had days like these once every three weeks, and each time the girls became bubbly. Still, they knew that their chances for adoption were slim. Most of the young ladies at the orphanage lived there until they reached sixteen years of age, at which time they were old enough to be sent off to a governess school. The eldest of the girls, aside from Wendy, who was not up for adoption, was April, and she was less than a year from sixteen. This was a grand opportunity for her. Ada was fourteen, as was Becky. The other girls ranged from age nine to thirteen. Ada was distressed. She had planned to go see Peter during the afternoon, but she would not be able to. Yet, a part of her was relieved, for she had been dreading bringing him to the orphanage because doing so meant that he would leave for Neverland with Wendy and leave Ada behind. She was grateful that she would have one more night with the enchanting boy. “Now girls, after breakfast you are to each go to your quarters and dress in your very finest clothes. You are to fix your hairs and wash your hands. Then, I want each of you in the lobby at nine forty-five. The families should arrive by ten.†Ms. Mary seated herself to finish her breakfast. The table was in a bundle of rapturous talk. Ada had picked out a very pretty dress, velvet blue with a light orange embroidery. She had left her hair free, partly because she was not one to make a big fuss over looks, and partly because her natural curls looked best when left alone. She had gone down to the lobby early and helped the other early girls and the women of the house to tidy up the orphanage. Wendy was the last to come down. She was not up for adoption, of course, but she still insisted on dressing in her best clothes. The girls sat in the lobby, giddy and nervous. Each of them was very much aware of the time, watching the ticking of the second hand. Finally, after a few minutes the first family arrived. It consisted of a rather young woman, her older husband, and two children, a young boy and an older girl. The girls each conversed with the family as others arrived. Some of the families had come before and had been indecisive over whether they wanted to adopt or not. Some had come many times, and yet others had never come before. About fifteen minutes into the gathering, a couple walked in. The woman was a beautiful and slim brunette, her hair shining with different shades of caramel and earthy browns. Her face was heavenly. The man that accompanied her was tall and rather handsome, with dirty blonde hair and a well-structured face. They were both very good-looking people. They had been here before. “Carla, come, there is Ada, the young girl we met last time.†John led his love towards Ada, whom recognized the pair. She had met them during the last of these events, and she had found them rather likable. They seemed intelligent and kind. The pair had been thinking of adoption for well over a year. They found themselves unable to have children of their own. They had looked in many orphanages. Carla was determined to adopt an older child, for she knew that most people were less interested in those and she wanted to give one lucky child a home. Still, they had found looking for such a child was difficult. Being an unconventional couple, they had a hard time finding a child who would not be completely taken aback by their lifestyles and beliefs. And since many of the children had an upbringing in traditionally old-fashioned orphanages, the two struggled. Yet, they had been charmed by Ada, who shared their sense of nonconformity and adventure. They had spent much time speaking with the child during their last visit, but they had been reluctant to adopt because they were afraid of the importance of their decision. They had decided to come back a second time to make sure that they were ready. Their impatience to return only proved to them that they were ready. “Ada, darling, hello. How have you been?†Carla was beaming. She had been completely enraptured by the girl, who reminded her very much of herself. Ada, too, was smiling. “I am very well Ms. Carla. And you?†She spoke in a well-mannered fashion because this was the way she had been taught to speak to elders. “Come, now don’t be so formal, young child. We are doing quite well. Tell us, the last time we spoke you had been reading a novel. I can’t quite remember the name, but tell us, how was it?†John had led the two to sit down at one of the small tables that had been set up. “Oh, it ended dreadfully. Well, it wasn’t a bad ending, but it was awfully sad. One Thousand Tales was the name of it.†“Really? Oh, do tell me, what happened? I remember what you had told us before. I have been anxious to find out what happened to the girl next.†The trio continued their conversation, feeling very much at ease with one another. The lobby was full of families speaking with young orphaned girls, though some of the families had to wait, since there were more families than girls. The gathering went on for an hour. Afterwards, everyone had to say goodbye. The girls were to go upstairs to the living room on the second floor, where they could relax. Some of the families left, unsatisfied, while others stayed and planned for a next meeting. Other families spent time speaking privately with Ms. Mary about a particular child they were interested in. Carla and John were one of those families, They had enjoyed their time with Ada and had decided to come back one more time, but they were convinced on adopting her. “Ms. Mary, we are very much interested in adopting the young girl Ada. She is an extreme pleasure and we are ever so delighted with her.†Carla spoke enthusiastically, looking about Ms. Mary’s office. It was extremely clean, with a lack of emotion. The old woman sat behind a desk, as the couple sat in two chairs opposite her. “Yes, she is quite an interesting child, isn’t she? She has lived here for many years, since she was two. My late daughter was very fond of the girl. She is extremely kind and well mannered.†“Yes, we really adore the child.†John spoke, holding Carla’s hand affectionately. They were excited at this chance. They had been very much discouraged when they discovered that they could not have children of their own, but now they felt very happy. They would not only have a beautiful daughter, but they would also give a young girl a family. The whole ordeal was very emotional for the two. “We want to come back for the next gathering, though we are sure about adopting her. We just want to give it a little more time. Still, we were wondering if we could start filling out the papers that are necessary.†“Why yes, of course. I am sure that she will be very pleased. Please, do keep in mind that by adopting her you will agree to house her for a set amount of time in which you will decide to make the adoption permanent, so you will have plenty of time to decide if you are pleased with her, though I am sure you will be. Let me get the papers.†****************************** The girls were all sprawled around the room, each finding something to do. They would occasionally talk about specific families, and some were sure that they found the right family. Ada didn’t really want to talk about Carla and John because she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high. She very much enjoyed her time with them, and she hoped that they would one day adopt her. They had told her about themselves, and she found them to be very interesting and wonderful. April sat nervously on one side of the room. She had spoken with a couple of families, but one struck her fancy. She hoped that she had made the right impression. She had met this family before, and they seemed perfect. But she was doubtful and scared because she had so little time left. If they did not voice their interest soon enough, she would be off to governess school. After all the families had left, the girls were gathered for a late tutor session. They ate lunch, and fit in some time with their daily house chores. Then came dinner, and finally bedtime. Ada had not forgotten about Peter, despite the family visit today. She had been anxious to see him all day long. She got ready for bed and waited, like she always did, for the women to go to sleep. Even though she had gotten such little sleep the night before, she was wide awake. She opened her window and climbed out, making her way to the meadow to see Peter. The boy was throwing rocks at a small fox, who was avoiding them tactfully, playing along in Peter’s game. He had spent his day playing with the forest animals, hunting them down and capturing them, only to let them go again. He had gotten rather hungry and had killed a small rabbit for food. He had also built himself a small shelter. He quite enjoyed this forest. He hadn’t really noticed that Ada had not come to get him for her wasn’t sure when she would. He had been waiting for her, but since she had taken so long, he pushed her out of his thoughts to center on having fun and exploring. He had already been through most of the forest, though he had avoided going out. There were many grownups out of it, and he didn’t like them. They were dressed funny, very unlike the grownups her was used to seeing. In fact, he had seen no pirates or red skins. Despite the many times he had come here to see Wendy, he found this world to be completely foreign. The fox had run off, bored with Peter. As he began to walk to his tent, he heard Ada. She was calling to him. She was fighting her way through the trees, as branches blocked her path. He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked in the direction of her voice. She hadn’t forgotten her slippers this night. Still, she had trouble walking through the forest, for she had deviated from her usual route. She was calling out Peter’s name, but she could not find him. She hoped that he had not wandered out of the forest. She had told him not to. She walked on. Then, suddenly, Peter jumped out from behind her. She yelled in surprise and he fell to the floor in laughter. “Peter! There you are. You rotten little…†She laughed, too. Peter picked himself off the floor. “Come quickly, Ada. I’ve been waiting to show you my house. I built it today!†He dragged her off while she forgot that she was going to apologize for not having had come earlier. They moved deeply into the forest, more deep than she had ever dared go. And there, in between two particular trees was a large shelter, made of sticks and logs, leaves and moss, and all kinds of earth mediums. It was large and properly made, and she loved it. He led her inside and showed it off. He was oh so proud of himself. They played in the house for some time, and outside as well. Peter had run off to chase a frog at the river. Ada stared after him. He was a young boy, about eleven years old. Still, she didn’t feel superior to him, or even motherly or sisterly towards him. Instead, she felt like a best friend of his. She was not as bewildered this night as she had been the last one, so she remembered one of her favorite things to do with Peter in her imagination. “Peter!†She ran to catch up with him. He had caught the frog and was fascinated by its throat as it blew up and down. She reached him. “It’s a funny animal. Do you want to hold him?†His eyes sparkled. Ada held the frog. She had never held one in her life and was a bit surprised by how slimy it was. She looked at the animal and laughed. It really was funny. She let him go. “Come on, Ada, let’s go swimming.†“Wait, Peter.†He turned to look at her. “I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind of course, if you could take me, well, flying with you. You can fly like they say, can’t you? It’s always been my dream to…†“No. I don’t want to.†Ada was taken aback by the abrupt answer. She had expected him to say yes. He was a polite boy, as she had discovered, though she had really always known he was, and surely he would not have had any problems with taking her for a little flight. “But, why not?†“Because I don’t want to, girl, now leave me alone.†He jumped into the river, splashing her. His tone contradicted his answer, for he spoke with his usual happy and carefree voice. She was a bit frightened by the whole situation, and she regretted having made the request. Instead of carrying on, she took off her nightgown, leaving her slip on, and joined Peter in the river. Despite that small scene, the two had spent a fun and lovely time together. But now it was late and Ada had to return to the orphanage. She had remembered that Peter had no access to food and became instantly worried, though she had discovered that he had made his own dinner out of rabbit. She then asked if he would be fine out here for one more night, and he unhesitantly said yes. He was quite at home in the forest. Ada said goodnight, and left the young boy to sleep, or play, or do whatever he did while she was gone. She promised that she would return for him early the next day and bring him to the orphanage. She climbed back up her tree and slipped into bed, having already forgotten about the strange reaction Peter had to the flying suggestion.
I can't believe that this anime (Cowboy Bebop) has not been mentioned. I think it is absolutely wonderful in terms of art, story, music, style, and character development. The movie was also amazing. What do you guys think? And jsut to name a few others that have not been mentioned: Trigun- fun and drama all in one. and the characters in this one are outrageous! Wolf's Rain- this is a beautful anime. its deep and not happy and light, so it may be unappealing to some, but i love it. Furi Kuri- ok.... this one is just way out there. it makes me laugh like crazy and the art is beautiful, so yay! Excel Saga- again, way out there. tons of fun and absolutely no order or plot... And I am only posting these next two because they are what got me into anime: Sailor Moon Tenchi Muyo Anyways, these are just a few that I think are worth mentioning. I know that I loved watching all of these.
These are just movies that I absolutely love. There are many more but I only feel like naming a few. Legend Labrynth The Last Unicorn Amelie The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (I <3 Terry Gilliam) Hayao Miyazaki Films Charlie Chaplin Films (<3) Hook And that is all for now. Anyways, just talk about the movies you know. Have you guys seen all of these, and what do you think of them?
