Chapter Nine: Life, Continued

The years went on, and the book became more and more popular. Patrick went on to live her own life and his wife was expecting his third child when another edition of Peter Pan came out. It had a new ending, explaining what had happened to Wendy and that Peter would always come for her daughter, and then her granddaughter, and that, quote, “When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter’s mother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.”

Petra cried when she read the final lines of the story as she lay dying in her bed, struck ill with grief after those many years, scolding herself for not being enough for him, but not knowing how she could have been better.  Her heart spluttered in her chest as she wished that the story would never have to end. If it were true, it wouldn’t end. Her son still lives on, she hoped, living in a world of imagination and mothers that will constantly be better to him than she. As she lay, just waiting to die, the unthinkable happened. A figure of a little boy was knocking on her window, seeming to be just hovering there. The window opened, and in flew a boy appearing to be only 14 years of age clothed in green leaves. The little boy shifted his gaze around the room, his hands firmly on his hips, with a childish grin in place across his lips. Petra gasped as she looked into his eyes, seeing her own reflecting back. Her son had come home.

The End

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