Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or any awesome things I might accidentally add into this story (Songs, Some Stories, etc.)
Here are some little things about my OC:
First Name: Alexandra,
Middle Name: Adelyn,
Last Name: (Not Known)
Hair Color: Dark Brown/Black,
Eye color: Sky Blue,
Skin Tone: Pale,
I tossed my book aside and it slammed into the wall and landed on its face, a flurry of dust flew up around it and made shadows in the single sunray. The dust twirled and softly landed, coating my book's old and tattered surface. I turned away not wanting to look at it anymore. Why? In every book I had ever read, the orphan always had someone that cared for it, or at least found someone that did. But it wasn't like that for me. I had no one that cared for me. No shoulders to cry on, no one that would surprise you from behind your back and ask you if you were ok. I huffed and looked out the window at the spectacular sunset that was enveloping this world back into the silky darkness. But then I turned back and looked around myself at my small and claustrophobic room.
I had close to no belongings, but the few I had were scattered around my closet and bed, just a few pairs of pants, a couple of shirts, sweaters and my only pare of shoes lay on the floor next to the wall. Their toes scuffed from all of my running and their black finish starting to rub off on the heal area. My only piece of jewelry hanging open from the lone, cracked, mirror in the bathroom, it was more of a locket, and it had the only picture of my 'once alive' family. My mother and her beautiful blond hair that fell gracefully down to her shoulders, she had a fair complexion and freckles lightly dusted her noes, her eyes were a beautiful green-blue and you could tell she was at her happiest when that picture was taken because she was smiling with her entire face. My dad's dark brown hair that reached his ears, he had a slightly darker complexion that gave you a hint that he had spent hours in the sun and he had a completely 'freckle free' face, his eyes were sky blue and he looking like nothing in the world could have made him more happy at the moment. I had one sibling, but I hadn't seen him in about years. We had been put in different orphanages, and I miss him more then anything. His name was Jacob, he had my mom's eyes, and her hair, but he had what might have been my dad's complexion before he had the sun-tanned skin.
At this point in my story you might be wondering why my brother and I were doing in these orphanages. Well, my parents both died at different points in time, but only a few months apart. My dad disappeared one night. He was outside in our old back yard, but he never came back in. We searched for him for about five months, and then we finally gave up because it was pretty obvious that we were never going to see him again. A few weeks later, my mother tucked my brother and I into our beds (something she hasn't done since my dad) and she kissed our heads and sang us a song. I thought things were finally going back to the way it was. But in the morning I found our mother hanging from our celling fan. My brother and I were given two days to pack up our stuff then we were shipped off to different orphanages. I tried desperately to get both my brother and I into the same one, but being a child meant that I had no power in the matter.
I didn't talked for about two years after that. The orphanage sent doctors, but they said that sometimes someone goes through something when they lose someone dear to them, and in my case I had lost my dad, my mom, and I had no way to protect my only family I had left. They had brought me to this orphanage a few weeks after the accident; I didn't like anyone there and barely left my room. And when I did I seldom looked at anything besides the floor, but when I did it was like I never really 'looked' at them. The nursemaids and other children always said I was off in my own little world. That had granted me the nickname 'In-between', because they thought I was always in-between the real world and my imaginary one.
I didn't have any friends the first three years I was at the Orphanage, but after a little while the younger kids had started coming to my room because they had heard me reading my book and they had wanted me to read it to them. Being naturally shy, I had at first felt a little uncomfortable but then, I had noticed that they hung on my every word; they always wanted me to go on. So I had started reading to them every night. I would go to the older kids' rooms and asked if they had any books I could read, they had all kindly obliged, but in return I had to do some of their schoolwork. I was soon pilled up with so much schoolwork I had begun to need my meals delivered to my room by one of the nursemaids. But I still continued to collect books because the reading was the only thing I had to look forward to in this retched place. The Headmistress was a strict woman and she wouldn't tolerate any nonsense coming from the children so I kept the stories in my room, it was known that if she ever found out about the stories she would be murderous.
I had many children that came over to my room, but the ones who came over the most were little Margret and Todd. They were both eight years old and were both wonderful to have over. They had been orphaned when their parents went on a sail and had gotten lost in a storm. They were always quiet when they had first come to story time, but they soon grew to be one of the most enthusiastic kids to be here, sometimes they would have their own stories. They would tell me the stories their mother had told them and her mother. They were about flying boys, fairies, pirates, mermaid, Indians, and so many other magical things, but they normally kept those stories just for my ears. I had always considered them to be an extension of my family (that is if I had one in the first place). Sometimes they even snuck a song out of me. Since my parents, well you know, I hadn't sung at all, but one day I found little Margret crying because she had fallen and scrapped her knee. I had been reading in the garden then I had heard her and ran over and had seen her cradling her injury. I had picked her up and carried her up to my room and begun bandaging it. She then looked up to me with her tear filled eyes and had asked me to sing something. I said that I didn't know any songs and she started crying again, I quickly searched my mind for some part of a song fragment that might have been caught in my head. I then caught a little one that I probably gotten from my mom, the very thought of her had made my eyes begin to water but I pushed my feelings aside and begun to sing. By the end of the song, little Margret had dozed off in my lap. I hugged her tight and let her down on my bed.
From then on both her and Todd had always pleaded for me to sing (mostly after story time when all the other kids were asleep), I almost always obliged. They would always climb onto my lap and I would sing to them. And they would almost always fall asleep and I would end up putting them in my bed and sleeping on the floor. Then, in the morning they would sneak up and poke me until I got up and led them back to their bedrooms so they could change into new cloths. I loved all the children, and I always wanted to protect them. So I guess in a way, I was their parent, at least more so then the Headmistress.
I looked away from my locket and back out towards the window, the sun was still setting and it was sending its wonderful orange rays round my lonely world. I sighed, thinking about how my dad would have loved the sunset from my bedroom window, he always loved the sunsets. I got up from my window seat perch and went over to my locket and lifted it gently from the mirror. I brushed my thumb over the shiny polish. I closed it and looked at how the gold lengths went into a small and swirling pattern on the outside of it. I unfastened the clasps and put the locket around my neck. I when I heard yelling coming from the down stairs rooms. I quickly tucked my locket inside my shirt and walked briskly to the wall where I had thrown my book. I picked it up and placed on the stack on my little desk. Then just as I dropped the book my old door was almost flung off its hinges as my Headmistress flew into the room and looked down at me with the most ferocious look anyone could beer. I could almost feel myself shrinking in her demonic posture.
My Headmistress was around five foot eleven. She had pitch-black hair with a single line of white going back into her tight wound bun she always whore on the back of her head. She always whore a black dress that flowed down to her ankles. The lace on the hem of her dress just brushed the floor when she walked and it made a 'whooshing' sound whenever she moved. She also always wore black gloves that went up to her elbow and had lace at the end. All in all: She was the scariest person I had ever met.
"G-Good evening Headmistress," I muttered feebly.
Her face turned a deeper shade of crimson. She lifted her right hand up and brought it as far back as she could and then she swung it down with full force on the side of my face. My head jerked to the left with the force of the slap and I brought my hand up to the tender skin of my stinging cheek. I looked down at my socks.
"What do you think you're doing?" She yelled. I continued to look down at my feet.
"W-What do you mean ma'am?" I asked, barely audible to even my ears.
"What do I mean? What do I mean!" She yelled at a much higher volume at each word. I thought she sounded like a bird, always asking what she means and repeats it over and over again. It isn't a very pleasant bird.
"What have you been doing with the younger children each night?"
I brought my hands up to cover my face. She had found out about the reading! I was toast.
"I-I…" I said, my voice trailing away.
"Reading stories! Retched, make-believe stories!" She yelled.
Her face was now a brighter red then a fresh apple. I brought my hands up and covered my head and blocking my vision from the horrid woman.
"Why do you tell such nonsense to the children?" I looked up from the ground and stared at the ferocious woman towering over me.
"Because they need it!" I yelled, regretting it the moment the words escaped my lips.
The Headmistress looked inflamed. I immediately brought my hands around my head. Then I heard her voice, and she said the next words like a calm before the storm. If you're ever on a ship, you know you are about to hit a storm because everything stops at once. The air feels to still, the waves are no longer rolling. Then the storm hits and you are fighting for your life. I know all this because my father said so, because he had sailed.
And so said the Headmistress, "Alexandra. I cannot have a child like you mucking about this school. Children do not need stories, they need logic and facts, and they need to grow up!" She bore her eyes down at me.
I felt mutinous, and since I had already dug my grave to the other side of the world I guess there's no harm in fighting back. I brought my hands down and stared her in the face, this small act of defiance feeding to my agitation.
"But children need stories! They need make-believe and they need magic! At least those who are as young as the others! And especially after they have been through!"
The Headmistress was about to explode, I could tell, like I said: the calm before the storm
"Alexandra! I cannot allow you to continue this silly act! In the fortnight I will have you off to another orphanage! One far, far away!"
I stared at her in shock. I had never thought she would send me away.
"But I can't go. Please. The younger children need me!" I said, plead licking my voice.
"This is no place for nonsense! And you will be leaving within the fortnight!" She screamed. She then turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Hey Time Lords! This is my first Peter pan FF and I have no idea what to do with it. So if you like, or if you don't, post a review and I'll do something? Yeah, I'll do something. Anyways... See you all on Gallifrey!