Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,76
right. If I can get us out of here, I can find Peter and get his shadow back. And If I can do that, surely I can save Never Land!”
Tinker Bell nodded vigorously.
“Only…” Wendy’s face fell. “Only I’ve never really done anything real. Solved any real problems or puzzles. What could I possibly do? There are no obvious riddles to solve here. This isn’t a labyrinth. There isn’t even an actual villain to test my strength against. All my skills are imaginary. And all my real talents are useless.…Mend a skirt? Run a house? Stare out the window, dreaming? Which do you think would help us here?”
Dreaming.
You can tell stories.
“Oh please—that’s nothing. Anyone can tell stories.”
No. Stop it. You told stories so wonderful that Peter Pan came to listen—to stories about himself! Your telling stories invited Never Land into your home.
Wendy blinked. “I…suppose that’s true. I never considered it that way before. If I hadn’t told the stories about Peter Pan, Peter Pan wouldn’t have come…which is an odd thought in itself. But if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have lost his shadow and left it. And then I wouldn’t have traded it to Hook to come here. What a strange series of events! It’s all because I tell stories.
“But how does this help us now? I can’t just make up a story about us escaping here and have it come true.”
The fairy looked at her thoughtfully. What happens in your world, the dreams of your world, affects our world. And we are in the Land of the First, the origin and heart of Never Land.
“Oh, I see what you’re saying. My stories change and shape Never Land—and other children’s do, too. So perhaps here I could directly alter it, myself?”
Tinker Bell shrugged: why not?
“It’s worth a try!” Wendy said, growing excited. “Let’s see. What can I come up with… ? All right. Here goes.
“Once upon a time, there were two girls lost in a desert that went on and on forever, one fairy and one human. They seemed to have no means of escape, but then…a giant friendly bird, a Never Bird, flew down out of the sky and took them on her back, safely returning them to the Pernicious Forest and Never Land proper!”
Wendy waited expectantly.
Nothing happened.
Although she hadn’t completely believed that something would happen in response to her words, she still felt an almost overwhelming sense of disappointment at the completeness of the nothing that happened. Not even a random sparrow appeared in the dusty canyon.
That’s not a story, Tinker Bell said dryly. That’s a wish.
Wendy started to argue and then actually thought about what the fairy had said. True: although it had a beginning, middle, and end, there was no character change—no character interaction at all, really. There was no setup, no grand description of the scenery, nothing. She should know better! She spent so much of her spare time writing.…
Wendy looked at the strange, washed-out path they were on and began to imagine.
“You know, once upon a time this was a thriving, fast-moving river,” she said almost conversationally. “It was all sorts of different colors—clear white to the bottom, red from the sand of the cliffs, green with life and fish. Where it splashed out of its banks, lush grass and trees grew.
“But then one day, far north of here, a powerful warlord fell in love with a beautiful maiden who did not love him back. For she loved another, a young farmer who lived on the other side of the river—”
Farmer? Tinker Bell interrupted skeptically.
“Shush. This is my story. And I always thought farmers were rather dashing and romantic figures in their own way. Especially the Scottish ones. Anyway: The warlord grew angry and swore that the maiden would never see her lover again. He used his incredible strength—from years of rampaging and pillaging—and picked up the river and tied it in a knot. The waters stopped flowing to the south and dried up, turning the once lovely river valley, the very one in which we sit, into just another dead path through the desert.
“The knot was so clever and complex that the maiden and the farmer could not figure out how to untie it, even had they the strength. So they each got a little boat—well, hers was actually rather magnificent because she was a warrior princess, as it happens, with a golden prow and silken cushions. His was more fitting to his station, of course.