The lagoon, as usual, was sparkling with a sublime sapphire-blue brilliance. The forests were darker than emerald green carpets flowing over the lone island, whose large central mount was wreathed by an indescribably vibrant rainbow that never faded. Blue-grey smoke could just be spotted to the west, rising over the hills that hid the village behind them. Exotic birds flew from the trees and over the beach, just as a small school of dolphins showed themselves from underneath their watery blanket, their cackles and calls resounding amongst the trees and rocks surrounding the lagoon. And muted laughs could be heard from another nearby lagoon. It was all a very picturesque, even divine scene, one that nobody—even the roughest cad to ever set foot upon the earth—could accept as anything less than breathtaking and awe inspiring.
And yet, there was someone for whom this wonderful paradise did not evoke feelings of euphoria and happiness. Neither the dazzling sun nor the warmth of a pleasant summer day in the air could brighten the features of Captain James Matthew. He had seen it all before, for indeed this day was quite like any other the island had seen in its summertime; the occasional rain doing nothing to dispel the cloudless sky and impeccably clean and beautiful shores the next day. And though he had indeed experienced that wonder when he arrived in Neverland, and many days since then, those days were far behind him now. Now there was nothing. There were no mysteries left on the island of Neverland. There was no obsessed revenge quest for the ridiculously self-absorbed brat who called himself Peter Pan with his crew, dashing about the ship and traversing the forests in some vain effort at capture. For that matter there was no Pan. There was no crew. There was only Captain Hook and the Jolly Roger, a living testament to the events of so long ago that were immortalized in children’s books around the world. A world to which James Matthew could never return.
Pan was gone, at last falling to the eternally burning question of “What if?” Now undoubtedly grown and lost in the world. Smee was gone, having passed on with many of the crew as the magic of Neverland had lost its grip on them and died or returned to the bigger world outside. Tinkerbell, having outlived all the faeries, was also gone. Nobody believed in faeries anymore. The Algonquians had long since perished, having lost all interest in caring for the same small land for indefinite. Their village and central fire pit still standing as though waiting for them to march back from the other side of the island.
But Captain James Matthew Hook persisted. He maintained a lonely exiled existence in the oasis of time known as Neverland. Each day was much the same, and having the magic of the place still surrounding him, he had nothing to fear in the upkeep of the Jolly Roger or to his age. The island held no mysteries for him, for he had now seen them all. The time when Tinkerbell, ironically the last person to keep him company when they found that they were both alone this world that was both their home and their prison, was also past. The only other people left here now were the mermaids, neverceasingly entertained in the small world of their own lagoon with their looks and each other, childish games wasting away their time. And so James Matthew had nothing left in his life but his memories. Memories of a life lived much longer than any other.
He did recall those times, when he had first lost his hand to the newcomer with the big mouth and the small sword. When his life was consumed by the madness founded by revenge and built upon by constant pranks and tricks. He remembered Peter with sour thoughts still. An egocentrical boy with no thoughts outside his own desires. He had claimed to love once. He had loved Wendy. He had loved Jane. He had loved Moyra. And yet Captain Hook had seen all these come and go. He had seen the young boy forget about them as soon as his newest practical joke had reduced his erstwhile nemesis to hysterics. He had indeed seen Pan disregard the Lost Boys, who he had also claimed to love, as soon as they expressed a desire greater than he cared to deliver. And he had seen him leave Neverland. And James knew why the magic of Neverland had sustained his youth far longer than all others. It was for that very fact of narcissism. Peter had loved only himself, and that is what the island maintained most of all for him. An entirely selfish and foolish childhood held far longer than should be, with love that was only wasted. Peter had never really known love.
But then, James had often wondered, why was he still here? What greater purpose could he attain too? He had known love. For he also remembered back to his own youth, as an Oppidan in the famous Eton College. Eton, where he had begun his life of notorious escapades with his dearest of friends, Jolly Roger, for whom the ship he now stood on was named, and where he had truly known love. Love in the form of a Sultana. A passionate love held by both, and that was undoubtedly long lasting and noble enough to hold anyone—in Neverland or not—in the state of youth forever. It had been for this love that he had set sail for that star so long ago, aiming for his Neverland so many years ago. The Neverland he saw in his dreams.
But could this, this lost feeling from so long ago be what was truly keeping him tethered to this realm of paradise? Suspended in a frozen hourglass? It surely could not be, for the Sultana Ananova had long since lived her own life, a life free of James Matthew, and passed to the other realm of the ethereal and fleeting. James had never made it to her, had never known that love again. He would have gladly waited for her, waited all the time he had lived if he knew he could be with Ananova once again. But it could not be. For even if she was still amongst the living, he could not return to her. The world behind, the world outside of Neverland, would never be capable of accepting James Matthew Hook back into its embrace. For it was simply not the same. James had been there once since he had left. He had seen his own self, amidst the pages of children’s books and moving pictures on the sails of huge structures, being cursed by young heroes and adored by aspiring scoundrels. He had seen the machines, the devices, the vehicles. And he knew it was nowhere the Jolly Roger would be taking him.
And so James Matthew Hook continued his lonely existence in the never changing paradise that was his prison. But why? He still had no answer. Why was he still here after the island had surrendered all of its other children? It was as if it were mocking him. The sorrows he had experienced in his life were not enough it seemed, but he must also be forced to be the prisoner of time herself; and she was cruel. She would never let him leave.
Never. Neverland. Never forever. James Matthew had come here a hero. He had lived here a villain, and had never held hope of dying here. His aspirations had always been higher. But perhaps, that was why he was here. That was why he was here! He was here to leave! Why had he set out for that second star? Why had he sailed until the dawn of the morning sun until he reached this place? It had been for a long lost love, yes, but it had been not only for the love of a Sultana, but for love of life. It had been for the sheer joy of knowing himself, knowing others, knowing the sea and the land and the sky, and all the things in them. He had not rested in his sleep as young boy at Eton, always seeing this same sparkling blue lagoon just beyond the reach of reality, trapped in his dreams. And once here, he had not rested until he had known all of Neverland’s secrets. No, not Neverland, he shouldn’t call it that. This place had been, and still was, but no longer would be for Captain James Matthew Hook. It was not his Neverland.
With a crew of one, the Jolly Roger creaked to life. Winds that had not blown on the placid water for centuries filled the sails as the island prepared for the departure of its last and only true child. Pixie dust from ages past lifted the ship from the waters, and the glistening hull cast shadows over the dolphins, the trees, and the one and only mountain of the island. The rudder-wheel spun madly as James Matthew, the young boy with two hands and love of life and knowledge that he had been when he first sailed into the lagoon many generations past, climbed to the lookout’s nest, and let his open his arms to the wind, hair billowing madly.
In the outside world, if anyone had been watching, they may have seen the sudden dimming of a rather bright star. Though it had always been there, the second one to the right which is visible until the dawn, it was seldom noticed. And yet, as it dimmed and died, one could almost see it. A moderate sized vessel such had not been sailed in any sea since the days of pirates and colonists in centuries past. It was headed straight and true, towards the first star on the left, the one that was now shining far brighter than any other in the sky.
But as is too often the case now, the world below did not notice. Perhaps it was because there was a text waiting on their cell phone, or a long red light at the nearest intersection. Or perhaps, just maybe, it was because nobody took the time to look at the stars anymore.
This won first place in the August 2008short story contest.
Copyright to Zeth of Mercury Ice. If you are a guest viewing this, please take the time to register.
