My monster

I wrote this story for an English project about rewriting traditional fairy tales. I have always been fascinated by the real version about Peter Pan, where he is an angel of dead, stealing children and then killing them when they grow up. So I decided to write a story about it. Hope you enjoy.


4. Fighting a child

When I woke up it was late in the afternoon and the sun was high in the sky. The Mother Hawk and her children were hopping around trying to find twigs to make the nest perfect. I let out yawn and stretched making the Mother Hawk come towards me. “We have gathered some fruits and berries for you. You’ll need your strength if you are going to beat Peter”. She gestured towards a big leaf covered in the most colourful fruits I have ever seen. I quickly shoved some raspberries into my mouth before realizing what she had said. “What do you mean fight Peter?” Drops of raspberry ran down my chin in shock. “That’s what Captain Hook said! You are going to save us all”.

After several minutes of trying to understand what was happening, mother hawk told me I needed to keep moving. She was going to fly me down to the bottom of the mountain, where I was supposed to meet Hook and his pirates.

My mind sure kept busy on the flight down to the crystal beach. I felt like my thoughts were going everywhere. I tried to keep them tied down, tried to gain control, but they always found new ways to get out. My thoughts stopped flying around when we landed on the beach and I saw what was happening. Lost boys and pirates were everywhere fighting. I turned around looking at Mother Hawk. “Go home. Be with your children. Make sure, they are safe”. She looked like she was going to object, but I quickly interrupted her. “…That’s an order!” and she took one last look at the battle before flying away.

The normally beautiful beach was now filled with hate, blood and battle and on the other side of it all stood Peter Pan, away from all the horrible mess he had created, with a huge smile on his face. I had had enough and stepped up on a big rock. “Enough!” My voice made everyone stop the fighting and look around, even Peter. “What is it you are doing? Has fighting ever solved anything? I can imagine that you have been fighting for years and years on end. When will it stop? You are behaving like children and I have had enough.” I took a deep breath, slightly scared that this might go the wrong way. “Do you really want to die...?” Before I could finish my sentence Peter stepped in front of me. We were about the same height, so I, once again, looked into his black eyes, that now had a hint of brown in them. I took a step forward so his face was a few inches away from mine. “Is this really what you want Peter? Do you want everyone to die? Are you really that selfish?” He looked like he wanted to say something back to me, but he did not. Instead he walked down the rock and walked away. He knew it was not the kind of questions you should answer.

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