A pretty girl should not wander alone.
Not my finest work but my brain has been trying to complete this little drabble since forever
Also! it’s based off a very old prompt that i can’t find the link to currently, sorry about that!
"A pretty girl shouldn’t wander alone."
The voice, as crisp and youthful as a summers evening, seemed to blow through the trees of the Neverland forest. It sent the feeling of a thousand hairy spiders crawling up her arms, in an attack of sharp, icy shivers.
It was only a name “Neverland Forest” a play on the children’s story, made up by the town’s young people. It wasn’t real. There was no boy-king exerting his rule upon the trees and an army of young boys. There were no fairies or pirates. There were only decade old stories of young boys going missing and idiot teenage pranks gone wrong. They were stories, myths, rumours; not an inch of truth could’ve been there.
Storybrooke was safe. Well, as safe as one could consider random clouds of purple smoke at any given time and “battles” breaking out in the town square. It was an odd town but it was small, it was home. It was in all likely-hood some dumbass boy from her grade trying to mock her, or get lucky, whichever.
But there was something in the air that made Wendy feel wrong.
“You’re very funny,” Wendy hiccupped, coughing through the alcoholic burn in her throat. Perhaps sneaking out for her first drink in the dark of the forest wasn’t the best idea. In fact, wandering off from Lilly was probably an even worse idea. She coughed again and tried to orient herself towards to distant laughter, “But I’m fine.”
This was silly, defending her choices to a voice she couldn’t even see, didn’t even know. Wendy felt her face flush a garish pink and she swiftly turned to run her way back to her friends. But before she could a nimble white hand clasped her arm, yanking her back.
“Hey! Don’t touch me–” She tried to yelp, but the words stuck in her throat and got pushed down by surprise and anger and confusion.
He had spun her around so she faced him, a phantom chill still burning her arm from his grip. Her eyes caught view of sandy brown hair, knife-point sharp features, a grinning mouth, one that was twisted somewhere between mischief and a grimace. A boy a boy a boy … but at the same time he wasn’t. She didn’t recognize him from school and he certainly didn’t look like any boy she’d seen before. His ears were bit too pointed, as if he were wearing prosthetics and his white teeth looked sharp for her comfort.
“Anything could happen to you here. I may have forgotten, but wandering around a forest in the dead of night really isn’t the safest thing in the world, is it. Especially not as drunk as you are”
He sniffed in disgust and shook his head, as if he were disappointed. It made her want to slap him.
“Then what are you doing here then?” Wendy huffed. Her pride tried to crack through her nervousness semi-successfully.
He laughed, “Neverland is mine. I’m the only one that should ever be here. ”
“You’ve got to be lying.” She sputtered, “No one can own forest.”
This boy had to be insane, or drunk or high, maybe all three. He couldn’t actually believe he owned Neverland, he must have heard stories and decided to play at being Peter Pan for the night. She shouldn’t have wandered at here at all, that much was true. But her heart thumped too loudly in her chest for her to think straight, to run. Against her better judgment she stayed in place. He walked around her, like a lion circling its prey. She was too frozen to follow his lead and meet his gaze with her own scrutiny.
Wendy felt the hair’s on the back of her neck prickle as he stood behind her, leaning into her cloud of blonde hair.
“Oh, Wendy-bird. I think you can find that I can.”
His breath warmed her ear, and it felt familiar in a way that it shouldn’t. Her body started shaking, she couldn’t help it. Wendy never spoke of that nickname, mainly because she could never remember when she had gotten it and when it had stopped.
“I would go find your degenerate friends before they get as lost as you are.”
He stepped back and she closed her eyes, a sigh shuttering out of her lips. The leaves crunched under his feet as he walked backwards.
“I don’t think you want to think about what may happen if you don’t.” The threat was tinged with less humour than before and she could almost feel the sickening grin as he continued. “Unlike you it won’t be so pretty.”
That was the last straw. She didn’t care who he was and what he could do. She couldn’t care less if he could have the ground beneath her feet tremble. But by the time she finally got the courage to whirl on him, fists and arms out, the boy was already gone.
