text: The howling of the frosty wind grew louder and muffled the dark rays from the moon above. A wet fog seeped through the cracks of an old, rigid window pane and washed over a fairly aged bedside cabinet. The frail curtains delicately flowed and rippled across the room, casting a misty shadow across the rickety floorboards. A peaceful log occupied the bed, laying lifeless as it succumbed to the cold breeze which smothered it. The plum kissed skin and the flowing locks were the only elements that could distinguish the object. All seems peaceful, but the fiends of the night are hungry and searching for vulnerability in their prey. A foreign, vivid shadow filled the room with a toxic darkness, suffocating the last drops of life that the room once had. The window chain hovered subtly off the lock and creaked open the ancient window, allowing the unnatural climate of the outside world to flow freely into the solitude room. Following the musty fog was a meagre figure, clad in rotting green, hungry for a glowing youth. The being, glowing in a murky darkness, stood tall as an oak tree by the bedside of the innocent child, watching over like a dark angel before elevating the child into the airborne room. The pair flew astray into the darkened night sky, leaving the isolated bedsit to fend for itself against the demons of the night. An object, unfamiliar to any of human existence passed the moon and scraped the moonlight gracefully, yet so eerily, casting shadows across the silent town below. The girl, under a spell of deep unconsciousness had travelled into a universe of the unknown. The vicious substance coarsed through the teens veins and grappled the consciousness of her freshly developed brain, only to start letting her slip through into a much darker place, back to reality. The girl called out to the figure, who sat on a stool opposite, eagerly waiting for company from an uncomfortable victim it had grasped from the goodness of the world. “Where am I?” Called out the girl as she eased back into a world she was unfamiliar with. The cloak shuffled and obscured the face of the dark soul it covered, before replying; “Neverland, my dear”. Grasping onto the rag of a blanket, the girl attempted to scan the room for any sense of where she was. After worrying glancing from wall to wall, the cloaked mound moulded into a standing position. Following a deep, crackle of a cough, the figure spoke; “I know all about you Wendy. I’ve been watching you for weeks, waiting for the right opportunity. When the stars aligned and all the pieces of my plan came together I... Well, that doesn’t matter now, I have you”. Shivering with fear, Wendy attempted her grand escape only to be restricted by the tight, straw like ropes which held her close to the rusty old bed frame. The slightest turn of her wrists would scrape her skin like she was bounded by barbed wire. Shaking like a rabid dog, she tried with all her force to pull away from her deathbed but only resulting in deep uncomfort and only distancing further from an energetic soul with every attempt of release. The figure nonchalantly hovered over to the bedside as if the twisted scenario it had started was just a minor inconvenience. Growing taller as the black cloak leaned over the bed, a collection of bones wrapped in paper thin, wrinkly skin, tugged on the hood and lowered the barrier, revealing the scrawny being it harboured. The creature, which was barely noticeable as a human, beared a long mouldy-grey ruff of a beard which hung down on top of the dark cloak the man bore. The arm of the coat twitched as a gaunt hand slithered out and reached over to the flowing river of hair covering the girls blushed face. Carefully moving the hair to reveal Wendy’s terrified emotion, the man spoke; “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself, how rude of me. I’m Peter”. Following his softly whispered words, the mortal grinned and scowled over Wendy, creating further shivering terror in the youth’s teary eyes. Crawling from the hair, the scrawny, scaly hand wandered down to the glossy buttons of her nightgown. Fiddling, the long-tainted nails of the hand unweaved the buttons and slowly unlocked the only fabrics acting as safety from the body of the teen. With an attempt to retrieve her snatched freedom, Wendy screamed at a volume unbearable to the human ear, the scream was met with a scattering of beetles and rodents escaping the siren of fear. Kicking and violently wriggling, she tried for a final time to escape the hands of her soon to be killer before he stole her innocent youth. But the attempt was unsuccessful. “Oh my dear, you’re not playing nicely. We can’t have that can we? Maybe this will calm you”. The man reached into a draw and scrambled across the wooden base before pulling out a yellowy handkerchief covered in spots of orange infection and held it over the sweet strawberry lips of the girl before allowing her sleep; “Goodnight Wendy my sweet girl”. Wendy’s eyes started to flutter softly before gradually falling closed. She dropped into a hole of darkness and her consciousness fell with her, leaving her body limp and vulnerable to anything by it.