Chapter 1: The Truly Lost Boys

Fantasy written by Darkfire on Wednesday 16, December %3

Member Avatar
Description
*Not finished chapter, just playing around with ideas for my next book.

Overall Rating: Not Rated

This writing has not yet been rated and therefore this information is not yet available.
*Not finished chapter, just playing around with ideas for my next book. As incredible as it might seem, at one point in history you were the youngest person in the world! Your name was written in the book of life with Cupid's quill in a joyous, golden splash. But this heavenly hue lasted but one magical moment, swifter than a sneeze; afterwards it quickly faded to black, and then you were just like everyone else. Only one child has ever retained that precious color; only one whose stubborn name continues to gleam with the same luster as the moment he first came into the world. This child's name is "" "Peter Pan!" said a Lost Boy. "That's what I said!" retorted Tidbit. "No, you said Peter Ban." "Did not!" he cried. "Nowah, you decide. Which was it?" "Twas Peter Ban," Nowah replied. "We all heard it." Tidbit pouted and crossed his arms. At this time on the island, the children were sitting on a small hill overlooking a patch of land where a fierce battle between the Cottingley and Rossendales was taking place. This time there seemed to be a dispute among the fairies over how one should tie their laces. Tensions grew so large that things had gotten to the point where negotiations had completely broken down. That being said, battles between these two clans were always a spectacle to watch "" with all its sparks and drama and wondrously heroic, musical scores. Bets were lain on whether the Cottingley's vanguard would reach the thatched fort by nightfall, and though the Lost Boys sought no entry into this fight, they themselves were beginning an internal struggle of sorts. "What's a Pan anyway?" Tidbit asked. "It's like a flute, I think." said Half-right. "Peter named himself after a flute?" The children laughed and then Nowah stood up on the table with his chest puffed out and hands sprawled confidently on his hips. "From this day henceforth, I shall be known as Nowah Fiddlesticks." he said. "I am Nimble Piccolo." "Thrice Chime." "Southpaw Drums." "Sir Tidbit Gong." said Tidbit. He had always dreamt about becoming a knight. Then there was silence, as all awaited for Half-right musical name; he was hesitant to give one. Half-right felt they were making fun of Peter, and thus he did not wish to be counted among them when their punishment inevitably came. "I don't know," he said. "It doesn't seem like Father would approve of such doings." "Perhaps not," Nowah conceded. "But then, Father is not here anymore." "What do you mean, not here anymore?" said Half-right. "Peter's coming back; soon." "Is he?" Right before a frowning half-right spoke again, Tidbit cut in with his hand raised. "I have a thinkings!" he shouted, as was accustom whenever any little thing sprung forth in his head. "Speak your mind, Lost Boy," commanded Nowah. "Peter has shut the window on us." he said. The children gasped. Tidbit had said the very same thought that had been in the back of their minds the moment Peter flew away. You see, without Peter, the lost boys were much like a pack of puppies; completely without direction. They always wondered when they day would come that Peter would fail to remember to return to them. For a while, this thought had been buried in the back of their minds now that Nowah was there. But nevertheless, it remained, and now Tidbit had gone and dug it up. "Surely he couldn't," said Nimble. "Surely he wouldn't," said Thrice. "Take that back!" Half-right shouted as he rose threateningly over the boy. Tidbit lowered his head timidly until Nowah came and put a reassuring hand on it. "I agree," Nowah said. "Peter has shut the window on us. We are the truly lost boys now." The children were instantly split, for Southpaw had no problems believing Peter would do such a thing. "He is quite a forgetful boy," he said. "Perhaps he simply forgot to leave it open." "Did not," said Thrice, Nimble, and Half-right, all drawing their wooden swords. "Did too," said Nowah, Southpaw, and Tidbit, drawing as well. A civil war began between the lost and truly lost boys! The children were fighting upon the hill with their newly carved faebrands "" a present from Mad herself. A beautiful blast of Fairy Dust sprung forth with every clash of their blades. The children were quite taken by the colors, but also surprised at how the queen knew they would need them. These were magic blades that, according to her, should only and could only be used to fight former allies. Thus the Lost Boys battled upon the hill until they would engulfed in a cloud of smoke. Nowah was none the wiser, as he was used to such things. He thought surely this would give their side the upper hand. However, fairies are such tricksters, and none more so than their queen. Mab laced the wood with the very time dust used by the sand fairies to make feisty babies fall asleep. This was her way of saying, if you are ever angry with a dear friend, better to first sleep on things and rise with a clear head before cutting all ties. This tactic worked on most of the children, but you see, they were fighting on a hill. In his blindness, one child fell and rolled down the hill before the affects of the dust could take full effect. Half-right groggily sat up in the middle of the fairies' battlefield, rubbing his eyes. Of course now the battle between them was called off on account of rolling child, and they were thoroughly vexed with him. They even began throwing pebbles at the boy, but soon they found that he was merely half awake. Half-right was sleepwalking. He rose unbalanced and then walked off into the woods alone. The fairies called out the other's but as they came upon them they found them all asleep.
   

Rate This Submission

Please take the time to rate this writing once you have read it. Our ratings system allows people to know both how popular the writing is, and how well the general populous of the site thinks it is written. This also allows the writer to have feedback about their writing, so they know if they need to improve their technique, or if they're on the right track.

The system allows you to vote on several aspects on the writing. Refer to the help text below each aspect for an explanation. Consider the different aspects carefully, and submit your vote using this form. It will be instantly weighted with the other votes given.


Depending on the writing type, give your opinion on the overall plot if it is a story, or the concept of the writing if it is abstract such as a poem. Does it seem to make sense, strike a chord with you or seem a well chosen concept? Did the author stick to the concept or did they change mid-thought?
Did the author use words and descriptions that allowed you to visualize the scenes portrayed in the writing? Did the feelings of the work stir your emotions as you read it?
Were the words spelled correctly? Was proper punctuation and grammar used? Could you easily understand sentences or did you have to re-read lines several times to understand what was meant?
Depending on the writing type, how did the writing flow? If it's a story, did it have a smooth, easy to follow flow? Did the flow of events make sense? If it's poetry, did the author stick with the syllable flow for that writing type? Did the lines rhyme properly if a rhyming device was used?
Did the author use the same words over and over or did they use a broad vocabulary to get their exact point across? Could better wording be chosen then what they have used?

2 comments

Leave a Comment

Please Login to Post a Comment.
  • Seems interesting. The thought of Peter leaving would make a good story. Are you going to run with it?
    - December 16 2015 18:55:48
    • If you have more this is a good place to go with this. As usual, good writing.
      - December 20 2015 19:13:35