Hey guys, bookworm here! So I decided to make use of my summer break to fix and edit this story. Without further ado, the re-vamped prologue of SttR! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan (sadly) or any other characters except my own. I don't own the song either!

The second star to the right

Shines in the night for you

To tell you that the dreams you plan

Really can come true

The second star to the right

Shines with a light that's rare

And if it's Never Land you need

Its light will lead you there

Twinkle, twinkle little star

So I'll know where you are

Gleaming in the skies above

Lead me to the land I dreamed of

And when our journey is through

Each time we say "Goodnight"

We'll thank the little star that shines

The second from the right

~Jonatha Brooke

June 18th, 2003

Cape May, New Jersey

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This story begins with a house. From a distance it doesn't look like much. Just a house on the end of a street. Oh, but this house isn't just an ordinary old house. With its Victorian design and it's low hanging trees, the house looks to be frozen in time and the family liked it that way.

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The sun had just sunk behind the ocean, and a soft ocean breeze blew through the sheer curtains of the second floor nursery. Inside, three giggling young children chased each other around the room. The oldest of the three was eight, his name was John. The youngest was only two, and his name was Michael. Finally, the only girl of the three was six, and her name was Gwendolyn, but everyone called her Wendy. Fed, dressed and ready for bed, all that the children were missing was their bedtime story. When they saw their mother enter the room, carrying a large and ancient looking leather bound book, they ran to meet her.

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The children's mother, Margaret, was an elegant woman, with creamy pale skin, long chocolate brown hair (that was currently residing in a messy bun), and pale green eyes that were always bright with laughter. Coming into the nursery, Margaret couldn't help but smile at her children's playfulness. Her smile started to fade when she thought of her children growing up and leaving the nursery behind.

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"All right you scallywags, set sail for Storyland!" Margaret said, picking up Michael and sitting in an overstuffed chair near the window.

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"What story are you telling us tonight mama? Is it Sleeping Beauty? Oh, or is it Cinderella?" asked Wendy, who was very inquisitive for a mere six year old.

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Margaret chuckled at her only daughter. "No sweetheart, its neither of those I'm afraid."

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Opening the old book, Margaret began her tale. "Once upon a time, not too long ago, there lived a family that had three children. Two boys and one girl. The eldest was named Wendy, the second eldest was John, and the smallest was named Michael. Now, Wendy was at the age when most children are expected to grow up. And unfortunately, this was her last night in the nursery she shared with her brothers.

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"One very important thing that you need to know about Wendy my dears, is that she loved to tell stories. Every night she told a new story to her brothers, and every night a mysterious shadow lurked in the window, listening to her tale. Once Wendy ran out of stories to tell her brothers, she began to make up stories about the shadow. The stories she told were of a valiant young boy named Peter Pan who refused to grow up.

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"Soon enough, Peter came to visit the three children, and took them to his island home of Neverland. It was there that the children had many adventures. They fought with pirates, swam with mermaids, hunted with Indians, flew with faeries and played hide-and-seek with Lost Boys. Those stories with have to wait for another night I'm afraid." Margaret concluded. A chorus of protesting cries rose as she closed the old book.

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"No buts, its high time that sleepy children are in bed. We can read another story tomorrow night." And with that, she tucked each child in their respective bed, kissed their foreheads and turned on the nightlights.

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"Goodnight my dears, sweet dreams." Turning out the lights, Margaret shut the door, and went to go check on her husband down the hall.

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But all of the children were not asleep. Little Wendy slipped out of her bed carefully, making sure none of the springs would creak. Seeing that she was safe, she silently tiptoed over to John's nightstand, and grabbed the Swiss army knife he had gotten for his birthday.

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She then quickly tiptoed back to her bed, and scrambled beneath it. Wendy retrieved a flashlight from her nightgown pocket and turned it on. Then picking up the knife, she started to carve her greatest wish on the wall beneath her bed, where no one would ever find it.

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Edited