Archie Smith was just like any ordinary eight year old boy growing up in London during the 1900s. His father worked for the bank and his mother stayed home everyday and went to special events for her Women’s Rights group every Wednesday night. Often their family had dinner parties with the neighbors or Mr. Smith’s associates.

Archie had two younger siblings. Both three years of age, twins to be more precise. The twins spent every waking moment with each other, they were inseparable. Their names were, Edward and Eleanor and they were always creeping into Archie’s room during the day and had no boundaries. You see, Archie had gotten a slingshot for his sixth birthday and absolutely adored it. He left for school one day, attending Wordsworth Boy’s Day school at the time (he had gotten expelled a month later), and came home only to find out that his precious slingshot was dead on the parlor floor. These tyrants were the apple of his parents eyes. He despised them.



One night, in the year 1907, Archie was sitting in his room. Blue painted walls, an antique model sailboat sitting upon a shelf above his bed. A bat resting on the window sill. A light on the blue wall. He was playing with his Yo-yo, practicing the double flip his father was trying to teach him. Eleanor walked into the room and took Archie’s Yo-yo abruptly out of his hands.




“Eleanor! Give me my toy back!”, yelled Archie. Archie yanked a wooden block out of the alphabet tower he had built earlier and chucked it across the room attempting to hit the wall and scare his sister. The block hit Eleanor in the arm and she yelped in pain. Taking the stairs nearly two steps at a time, Eleanor ran to her mother and hugged her skirts.

“What’s wrong my sweet?” said Mrs. Smith.

“Archie hit me! With his wooden block!” screamed Eleanor.

“Oh sweetie, I am so sorry. Archie come down here this instant!”

Archie solemnly marched his way down the stairs, passed the entryway, and into the parlor. Where he found his mother sitting on the piano bench and his father reading Great Expectations written by Charles Dickens. His father seemed oblivious to the commotion. Oh, and Eleanor was sitting on the rocking chair with a smug grin on her face as though she achieved a victory. Edward was sitting on the Navajo rug, his father bought off the ship from the U.S., playing with Archie’s Yo-yo. Archie was infuriated. That was HIS Yo-yo.

“Now, Archie dear, why did you hit your sister?”

“I didn’t mean to! I was aiming for the wall to scare her away.”

“Well, we do not accept inappropriate behavior in this household. Go get the
switch.”



On that night Archie decided that he was going to rebel against his parents due to mistreatment. I don’t want anyone to take this as a sorrowful story, believe me there is a happy ending. You’ll just have to wait and see.


Two nights later, Archie was lying in his room after yet another unfortunate event planned by his devious brother and sister. Archie needed to find a way out of this, he was going to sleep on it though, it was midnight. He knew because the ticking grandfather clock chimed twelve times.

Not long after Archie drifted to sleep, the window beside his bed opened slowly and the cold January breeze filled the room. The model sailboat’s sails bellowed in the wind while Archie shivered underneath his wool winter blanket. Little orbs of light glided their way into his room. Almost fairy like.

A tiny voice asked, “Is he the one?”

Another high pitched voice said, “Indeed, I think he is.”



Archie awoke the next day having the sense of danger fill his body. He slid open his closet door and opened the chestnut stained dresser. Rummaging through his wool winter stockings, trying to find his chosen weapon. At last, he found the sword, a noble choice, even though it was wooden. Archie crept down the stairs, making as little noise as possible, because his parents were sleeping and he didn’t want to reveal his location to the intruder.

Archie swung around the railing of the stairs, and during that movement he heard glass shatter. He thought it was the intruder coming threw the window, but no, it wasn’t that. It was the chandelier. While swinging on the railing he must have hit it. The glass candle holders fell one by one hitting the ground like tear drops but louder. It awoke everyone in the house. “Time to get the switch.”, Archie thought.



Over the years Archie got disciplined more and more. He was rebelling against his parents and instigating his siblings. His bedroom got moved to the attic for talking back to his father about getting expelled from three other schools. He got everything taken away from him for hitting Eleanor and Edward numerous times for eating his homework. He eventually lost all his parents faith and trust that they had for him. He was just like another piece of furniture located in the parlor. In which his parents seemed to like more than even him. This was true neglect.

By this time Archie was eleven, almost twelve. Foraging for himself, and close to being kicked out of his own house. This story will get better though, I promise.

As Archie was trying to sleep in his room, or attic, he could hear the pitter patter of little feet on the ground. He hears this every night, he knows its the mice because he feeds them after dinner. They have names too. Charlie, Billy, and Joseph. They were practically his only friends.

He heard tiny voices, thinking he was hallucinating, he pulled his pillow over his head and tried to ignore the little noises. The sounds were becoming louder and louder, pounding in his ears. He couldn’t concentrate. They kept repeating, “Come over here Archie.” You know you want to!”




Archie crept out of his bed, almost falling over due to weariness. He ended up falling, making a loud, “Crash!” and all the boxes fell. He crawled over to the corner after that. The floor was cold and rigid. The wooden boards were hard against his knees. It was almost ninety degrees, because it was the middle of August. He didn’t like the attic. There were cob webs everywhere.

As he made it to the corner there were little lights dancing on the walls. He thought they were fireflies. The little lights greeted his when he made it to the corner, dancing around his ears and almost singing to him. They were repeating, “Come to us the chosen one. Come to us and let’s have fun. In the place called Neverland, with rainbows and beaches filled with sand. The mermaids sing and the mermaids dance, come with us its your only chance.”


The orbs of light turned out to be fairies. They talked Archie into coming to their precious land known as Neverland. He needed to leave his home, and the fairies promised he would be happy where he was. He had his own special companion. A fair named Tinkerbell. She gave Archie a new name that way his parents would never find him.
Archie is now, the boy known as Peter Pan.