sight
There's nothing like it. Never has been, never will be. If he stands
just right, with tiptoes pressed into stone, the other foot dangling
precariously off the edge of the rock, nimble fingers clutched onto the
branch conveniently located just overhead, he can even see Skull Rock in
the panoramic view of Neverland that is stretched out below him. It's a
canvas, of sorts, awaiting someone to come along and paint it. Awaiting
him. 'Yours, all of it, if you'll stay.'
And he wants to stay, he does. He wants to forget all about mum and
dad, and his new little sister, and school, and rules and laws and his
birthday that's 'going to come with a lot of responsibility'
according to his father. The sunset against the ocean captivates him,
the echo of Tink's words lull him into the promise of one night. One
night. And then he'll go home.
