Peter was silent. James saw his eyes narrow, and he knew that Peter was studying his face, determining if James was being truthful or playing a cruel prank.
“What did it say exactly?” asked Peter.
James recounted the text, the mention of someone named Tigerlilly, and the name of the place itself... Neverland.
Peter's face was expressionless. He said nothing. James tried to catch his breath.
“This man, you think he knows about Neverland?” asked Peter.
“Well, I don't know,” answered James. “He knows something. I don't know how he acquired the sword, but I'm sure we can find out.”
“Yes,” said Peter quietly. “Yes, we must find out what he knows.”
James watched Peter's face. Something was brewing there in his eyes, but Peter could be impossible to read sometimes.
“I'm meeting with him later this evening, when everyone has set up. He said he will show me what’s in the jar.”
“Very good,” said Peter. His tone was flat, his expression unchanged.
James was beyond puzzled. James doubted Neverland's very existence, but now there was someone else who may know something about it, and Peter was acting as if there was no importance in this at all. Peter turned the storage room’s handle and stepped into the hallway.
“Do tell me how your meeting with him goes,” said Peter.
“What? You're not going to come with me?” asked James in disbelief.
“No. I have something I have to do, but promise you will tell me how it went and what he says.” He turned and rushed down the hallway.
James stood quietly for several moments before he, too, exited the cramped little space and headed towards his room.
Peter's reaction was not at all what he had expected. It seemed as if their roles were reversed, with James being the one who now sought answers to the mysteries swirling around in his head and Peter who’d become the reserved and reluctant participant. James was at a loss.
He went to his room—his actual room, not his now much-less-familiar bed in the infirmary—and lay down on his soft cot that was well over a foot too short for his frame. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.
***
James awoke with a jolt. He sat straight up. A loud noise had awoken him. In his groggy state, he looked around to try to determine what it was. The sunlight had faded from his window; it was evening. He had slept whatever was left of the day away. He jumped to his feet.
Crack!
The noise reverberated off of every wall. It was loud and seemed to come from overhead. James, not having bothered to remove his shoes before his impromptu nap, raced out of his room and down the hallway. He pushed the rear door open and ran down the walkway. Darkness was setting in, as the sun had already dipped below the horizon.
Crack!
This time, he saw the origin of the sound as it arched high over his head and exploded in a burst of color, momentarily giving all of the objects below a shimmering luster. Fireworks.
James had only ever read about fireworks in books. He recalled that the Chinese had used fireworks before the rest of the world and that the Song dynasty had used them in ceremonies dedicated to their great ruler.
Now, seeing the colors illuminate the night sky, he felt that no description of their brilliance could ever do them justice.
The setup for the night’s activities was complete: tents of all shapes and sizes had been erected on every available patch of land in the clearing behind St. Catherine's.
A large tent, larger than all the rest, stood in the center of the field. It was striped red and white, and its top was conical; ropes secured the entire structure to the ground. The big top was surrounded by smaller tents. Some of them matched the colors in the main tent, while others seemed not to fit in at all.
As James drew closer, he saw groups of children frolicking about. The joy on their faces was complete and all-consuming. Their giddy laughter was contagious, and it made him smile. He walked through the maze of tents, wooden booths, and stands. He heard laughter and shouting.
A man in a tall black top hat and red coattails stood atop a small platform.
“Step right up! Show your strength and win a prize!” he yelled.
Next to the shouting man stood a large target, situated close to the ground and attached to a meter with markings that said things like Manly-man and Mama’s boy. A large wooden mallet lay on the ground next to the contraption.
James stepped to the side as a group of boys came careening by him. They scrambled to pick up the mallet and smash it into the target as hard as they could. James laughed. Fun was in the atmosphere, and it was electrifying.
Music was in the air, as well, and each tent was illuminated by torchlight. Some children were gathered to watch a man juggle a host of different objects, including a bowling ball and bowling pins. His face was painted white with rosy cheeks, and he wore a tiny colorful hat that teetered precariously on the crown of his head. Another group of children watched as a young woman spun rings around her waist and arms, all while balancing atop a wooden beam.
There were so many sights, James felt certain he would have to return in the daylight hours to see every one of them. He rounded a corner and came upon a row of smaller tents. Sister Angelica was ushering children away from them.
“This is not right, not right at all,” she was mumbling to herself. “The circus is not the place for children.”
Of course it’s for children, thought James.
The smaller tents had signs that read Fortune Teller and Palm Reader. A sign above the tent at the end of the row read, O’Malley’s Mysterious and Magical Wonderments.
James hurried over and stepped inside.
All of the junk that he had helped O'Malley collect after his cart toppled over had been arranged into a wondrous display. On every available surface, knick-knacks of all types were arrayed. Gadgets and gizmos the likes of which James had never seen were spilling out of baskets and boxes. Free-standing shelves lined the walls of the tent, and on each one were lanterns big and small, jars with various substances in them, keys of every size, plus mirrors and statuettes propped on every shelf. A cuckoo clock chirped loudly from the corner, and on the rear wall, clocks of every sort were tick-tocking, some in unison, some on the down beat. James was in awe.
“I see you've found your way!” boomed a voice.
James spun around to see O'Malley standing in the entryway of the little tent.
“Yes... I… It seems I have.”
“Marvelous!” said O’Malley. He swept into the tent, and the curtain over the doorway fell closed behind him. He patted James hard on the back.
“So much to see! So much to do! Where shall we start?” asked the man.
James decided there was no point in hesitating. “I'd like to look at the sword you had with you. The wooden one with the writing on it.”
The man paused for a moment. James watched as he tried to conceal his surprise. “The sword? Of course, sure. It’s just that, well, it’s not too interesting, if you ask me.” O’Malley was lying, James could tell.
He reached high up on top of a shelf and rummaged around a before finding what he was looking for. He brought down the small wooden sword and set it on a table in the middle of the tent.
Tick-tock, tick-tock
James looked at the seemingly uninteresting object. It was nearly a foot long, made from two pieces of wood. The hilt looked as if it had been painted at one point, as flecks of red and green dotted its surface. He read the inscription again.
To my beloved Tigerlilly, for love and eternity in Neverland.
“Where did you get this?” asked James.
“Why do you want to know?” Something dark, almost ominous colored O’Malley’s voice. He was old and built like a scarecrow, but he was menacing in that moment. His beady black eyes bore a hole right through James.
“It’s just, the inscription—do you find it odd?” James tried to downplay his interes
t in the object.
“Not odd,” said O'Malley. “Interesting, but not odd.”
James picked up the sword and turned it over in his hands. The wood was splintered and cracking.
“Have you ever heard of a place called Neverland? I haven't heard of a place like that,” lied James.
O'Malley took a step towards him. James took a step back. “We are men,” he said. “Lies do not become us.” James's pulse quickened. “I've been to the ends of the world, young man. I've been to places that men say don't exist. In the jungles, there are cities made of gold and temples dedicated to ancient serpent gods. They rise up out of the foliage like beasts. They are a frightening sight, and yet something in your bones tells you it’s all connected somehow. These ancient tribes spread out all over the world. They know about magic, about the whim of Mother Nature herself.”
James grasped the wooden sword firmly. It would not have made a very good weapon, but it was something.
“Tell me, James,” O'Malley continued. “What do you feel in your bones when you hear that word... Neverland?”
James didn’t answer immediately. He thought about all of the stories Peter had told him. He thought about all of the things they had read in Abigail's journal. It all seemed impossible, but James could not ignore that which he had seen with his own eyes. Images of Peter hovering above the ground flooded his mind; the words he had spoken the night James saw him on the roof echoed in his head.
I can fly.
“Sir,” said James. “I would very much like to know how this sword came into your possession.”
O'Malley gave James the once over, sizing him up. “It was given to me.”
“By who?”
O'Malley swept passed James and stood just opposite the wall lined with jars and other clutter.
“Do you believe in magic?” he asked.
“No.”
“You should.” As he stood, his back towards James, a loud cracking sound emanated from O'Malley's general direction. James realized that he was clapping his hands. As he clapped, a dim glow filtered into the room. At first, James thought the sun had broken through the clouds overhead, but James was reminded of the late hour thanks to the loud tick-tock, tick-tock coming from O'Malley's assortment of clocks. The light grew brighter, and James squinted his eyes as he struggled to see. Each of the jars on the shelf, jars that looked identical to the one he had held in his hand only a short while ago, was glowing with the intensity of a hundred little suns. Each jar tipped and rocked, causing a metallic tinkling sound to join the chorus of tick-tocking and hand clapping.
“What is in those jars?” asked James. He had resorted to shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
O'Malley stopped clapping. The light dimmed to a soft glow, and James blinked several times as his eyes adjusted.
“Fairies.”
“Fairies?” asked James in disbelief.
O'Malley reached up and took one of the softly-glowing jars from the shelf and then turned to face James.
“What's wrong, boy? Don't you believe in fairies?” He held the jar up and twisted the top in a counterclockwise direction then lifted the lid off carefully.
Out of the jar arose a small blue-white light. It hovered just above the jar's opening and then darted up to James’s eye level.
There, floating on a set of tiny, sparkling wings was a small person. Pointed ears poked out from her long red hair, and her nose came to a slightly upturned point. Her eyes were a pale purple color, and she appeared to be clothed in a cloth that resembled a ragged hand-me-down dress. Her feet were bare, and she hung silent in the air.
James stumbled back. The fairy's light sputtered, and she sank down into the waiting hand of O'Malley, who scooped her up and put her back in the jar, replacing the lid and turning it tightly.
James struggled to catch his breath. He felt dizzy; his heart beat furiously inside of his chest.
“Calm down there, James,” said O'Malley as he returned the jar to its place on the shelf. The light within it was now darkened completely. “I'm an old man, James. I have spent my life seeking those things that people say don't exist, can’t exist. But I'm tired now, and I wonder if I shouldn’t pass all I've learned onto someone else.” He glanced knowingly at James. “It seems to me that you've already figured a few of these things out for yourself.”
“Neverland,” said James quietly. “I know a boy who claims it’s real. He believes it with his whole heart.”
O’Malley walked over to James and took the wooden sword from his grip. “I fashioned this sword out of some driftwood I found washed up on the beach. I was a young man, James. A very young man.” He laughed lightly. “I gave it to a girl I loved. Someone I thought I would be with forever, because in Neverland forever is real.”
James was silent.
“Neverland is a place beyond the stars, James. Please don't ask me how it came to be. I haven't the slightest clue. What I know for certain is that it is there, waiting to provide a chosen few with adventures beyond their wildest dreams.”
O’Malley walked to a small bookshelf and picked up an old, tattered book. He dusted it off with his hand and flipped to a page that was marked with a piece of paper. He handed the open book to James. As he looked over the contents, he saw that there was a drawing of a cluster of stars; underneath, in small faded letters, was the word PEGASUS. The second star in the constellation’s extended arm was circled with a pencil.
“It exists.” It was a revelation, a realization that everything he and Peter had learned was the truth and that Peter's mother hadn't been raving mad after all.
“How do you get there?” asked James in a whisper.
“There are several ways,” said O'Malley. “You can be taken there by someone who already knows the way. I think it may be possible to go there yourself, but you'd need their help.” He gestured to the now darkened jars on the shelf. “A fairy's dust is essential. Without it, you cannot hope to travel there. Fairies are like people, James. Some have good intentions, while others, well… not so much.”
“How do you know so much about it?” James could barely contain himself. Questions flooded his mind, and he couldn’t spit them out fast enough.
“I have studied all there is on the subject in my effort to get back there. People have different names for it. Sometimes it's Neverland, other times it is the Dream World or another dimension. It's all the same, though.”
“Why did you come back?”
O’Malley sighed and shook his head. “I had a sister once. She was the only family I had before I met Tigerlilly. We went to Neverland together. We were happier than we had ever been. But after a time, she grew ill, and nothing could be done for her in that place. There are no doctors or hospitals there, you know. So I brought her back to get her the care she so desperately needed. A fairy helped me bring her back. This particular fairy with white-blonde hair and eyes like emeralds promised she would help me get back to my beloved Tigerlilly.” James watched as O’Malley seemed to sink into some unspeakable sadness.
“She didn’t help you get back,” James offered.
“No,” O’Malley replied. “No, she didn’t. My sister never recovered, and I was left here to pick up the pieces. I’ve spent my entire life searching for a way back. I have found these fairy folk, and although I’m ashamed of myself for keeping them captive, they hold the key. I’m sure of it. But they will not give up their secrets. Perhaps I am no longer worthy.”
James sat down on the floor of the tent and tried to gather his thoughts. He contemplated running to find Peter right that very second and have O'Malley tell him all he knew. But he understood that Peter wasn't the one who needed convincing or proof. It was James who’d wanted to believe but couldn't. It was he who’d doubted. Now, it was James who had the proof he’d sought and been convinced beyond all doubt that Neverland existed and that, if Peter wanted to go to that magical place, he would help him do it. James stood up, and, with his purpose now gleaming clear in h
is mind, he stuck out his hand to offer O'Malley his thanks.
“Are you leaving?” asked O'Malley.
“I have someone you should meet,” said James.
“What I have told you was in the strictest of confidence.”
“No. You don't understand. He already knows. He needs no further convincing.”
The apprehension faded from O'Malley's face. James turned and prepared to run as quickly as he could to fetch Peter when a noise caught his ear, so quietly at first he thought it may have been the wind or some wild animal.
“Did you hear that?” he asked. He tilted his head and angled his ear in the direction of the sound. The noise came again, and this time it was clear. A scream. A woman's scream. The sound pierced James to his core. He darted out of the tent and down the darkened path until he emerged in the brightly lit central area, where the main tent had been erected. He looked behind him and saw that O’Malley had not followed him.
Panicked screams erupted from inside the big tent, and children were running about in every direction. Even some of the performers he had seen upon his arrival were darting off. James caught a young boy by his elbow as he tried to run past him and swung the boy around.
“What is going on?” James shouted.
The boy's face was ashen, and his lips were a pallid shade of purple. A look of absolute terror was plastered on his face.
“Speak up! What is happening?”
“The animals... The animals in the big tent,” sputtered the boy. “They’ve... They escaped.”
“What?” He let go of the boy and pushed him towards the walkway leading back to St. Catherine's. “Run!” shouted James.
The boy ran towards the chapel, and it was only then that he noticed a small trickle of blood running down the boy’s leg. His trousers were torn to shreds.
James was just about to run after him and help him inside when Juliet, one of the older girls, scooped the child up and carried him away, a trail of youngsters following close behind her. James ran instead to the front entrance of the great tent. The sign over the entry way read, Exotic Animals from the Depths of the African Jungle and Mysterious Lands of the Far East!
Six Points of Light:Hook's Origin Page 8
