Happy Ficlet Friday. This idea came to me while reading a shortened version of Peter Pan to my 5 year old son. This may or may not become a series. Hope you enjoy. Good Night, Lois - The Lost Boy “Are you a fairy?”
I freeze in mid-air. Someone has seen me! What now? Fly off as fast as I can until the windows rattle and alert every single person in the neighborhood?
Before I can make up my mind, the girl continues. “Mommy said that they only live in fairy tales.”
Despite myself curiosity wins over and I turn my head. The girl is small, maybe four or five years old. Her hair is tangled from sleep and her dark chocolate brown eyes are sparkling with mischief as she stands behind the open window of her dark bedroom. How did I not spot her before?
“Shouldn't you be in bed?” I ask.
She shakes her head and suddenly her eyes cloud over with sadness.
“Can't sleep,” she mumbles. “My baby sister Lucy is crying all night.”
As if on cue, the loud wail of a baby disrupts the quiet. The girl winces and tears fill her eyes. She blinks them back.
“Usually, Mommy would read me a story,” she whispers. “But she's busy. And Daddy's working.”
My heart goes out to the little girl that is clad in her pajamas and staring into the sky. I should leave. Tomorrow she'll think she's been dreaming. My secret would be safe, no harm done.
But I can't drag myself away from this girl with such huge brown eyes that reflect a loneliness I know all too well. My gut clenches as I remember their faces, Martha and Jonathan Kent, my parents, the kindest people I’ve ever known. I miss them more than words could ever express.
A frown suddenly creases the girl’s forehead as she studies me intently.
“You're a man,” she says. “Can men also be fairies?”
My dark thoughts are suddenly gone. Laughter bubbles up in my chest. I can’t help myself, though I know she’s being serious.
I shake my head. “I'm not a fairy.”
Her frown deepens. “Are you Peter Pan?”
What am I even doing here, talking to this little girl, while I’m still hanging suspended in mid-air? Every second that ticks by is one second more I’m risking exposure. If a five year old girl says she’s seen a flying man, people will think she’s making it up. But the city doesn’t consist of five year olds.
Yet, I stay - mesmerized by this little girl and her huge brown eyes.
“My name is Clark,” I hear myself say.
She smiles at me. “I'm Lois. Nice to meet you.”
I know this is a mistake. “Hello, Lois. It's nice to meet you, too.”
I should leave now before anyone else will see me here. I shouldn't have come to Metropolis in the first place. But I couldn’t ignore the cry for help that I heard on my way to… I don’t even know where I was going. Just flying, I guess. Above the clouds is the only place where I feel like I could even grasp the concept of belonging anywhere.
“So, you're not a fairy and you're not Peter Pan,” Lois muses. “But you can fly.” Her eyes widen a bit. “Are you one of the lost boys?”
I want to shake my head again, but then realize that description is rather fitting. After my parents died in a car crash, I’ve lived with several foster families. But when my developing powers became more and more difficult to hide, I ran away.
Now that I’ve turned eighteen, at least I no longer need to worry that someone will force me back into foster care.
Which doesn’t mean I feel less lost.
I watch the little girl who is staring at me as if I’m the most amazing thing she's ever seen. And for some reason I can’t help but smile at her eagerness.
“I guess you could say that,” I reply roughly.
She beams at me. The sheer brilliance of her smile makes my heart skip a beat. She’s only a child. Yet there’s something about her that I can’t put a name to. Maybe I feel a bit less lonely in her presence. A bit more like I belong here. It’s all in her smile.
Suddenly, that wonderful smile falters a little. “You look sad.”
I heave a sigh.
“I am a little sad,” I admit.
Lois nods, just as the baby wails again.
“Me too.” She yawns. “Can you tell me a story?”
Though the prudent thing would be to tell her “No”, I find that I can’t. Lois is the first person in weeks I really talked to. The first person in years, I think, who smiles at me. The first person ever who catches a glimpse of my powers and doesn’t seem to be scared.
The fires I started inadvertently had people terrified.
I can’t even blame them.
I should leave, really, I should.
"Sure."
I swallow hard and my heart is beating a mile a minute.
This is wrong in so many ways that I don’t even know where to begin. She’s about five years old, I’m a grown man, a stranger. The most powerful being in this world. Would I ask Lois’ mother if it was okay to tell her daughter a story she’d say no.
And she’d be right to do so.
But I can’t resist Lois’ pleading glance. And before I know what’s happening, I’m sitting on her window sill, veiled by her curtains and tell her how I stopped that mugging today. I make it sound like one of Peter Pan’s adventures. The mugger is a pirate and the victim Tiger Lily. My heat vision is a magnifying glass focusing the sunlight to heat up the pirate’s sword until he couldn’t hold it anymore.
It’s the first time I ever tell someone about one of my rescues.
And it feels strangely good.
When I’m finished, she can hardly keep her eyes open anymore.
“Good night, Lois,” I whisper.
She smiles, almost asleep. “Good Night, Clark.”
I turn to leave. With one last glance over my shoulder I look at the sleeping girl and my heart is beating a little faster.
“Will you be back tomorrow?” she mumbles.
My heart clenches in my chest. There is no way I can come back here. It’s too dangerous, too irresponsible, downright foolish even.
“I will try."
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