The Lost Marbles

Tootles always seems to lose me when he needs me most. The poor soul put me in a sack to keep better track and still can’t manage to hang on to me. He needs me. All of his happiness lives in me. I hope he’s doing all right. I can’t imagine what things he’s thinking or feeling right now. Thud, Nibs, and Peter have tried to help Toots, but nothing seems to work. All the boys have found me one too many times. He sets me down but never remembers where. He wants to carry me around constantly in case of emergencies, but it’s just not realistic, and now here I am. Lost. Again. This time, I have no earthly idea where. It’s quiet wherever this is. Mostly. There’s a persistent dripping that could put a canon blast to shame. The echo of each drop lingers long enough for another to fall. It’s cavernous, vast, and empty if I had to guess.

The last thing I remember is Tootles and the other boys going for a swim. I must have come loose from his pocket because the next thing I could feel was the unmistakable sensation of being adrift. I lost consciousness for a time but came to in the midst of this dark, damp, and deep place. I’ve washed up in some sea cave, but where? I don’t know how long I floated, what direction the currents carried me, or which part of the island I landed on. If I even am on the island anymore. I don’t hear any of the usual identifying sounds of my home: canon fire, clashing steel, or the distant battlecry of my dear boys, bangarang! I can’t even make out the subtle disturbances that fill the quiet nights, all the fairies and fauna that come alive when we rest. I may have to face that I may not be in Neverland anymore.

Oh, he’s done it this time. There’s no way Toots or any of the Lost Boys will find me here. Not even Peter Pan would think to check a cave; if he did, he couldn’t possibly check them all! There are dozens on the island, and there’s no guarantee I’m in one of them. Now would be a good time to borrow some of Tootles’ happy thoughts. Things are starting to feel desperate, and I don’t want to panic.

Let’s see, he has a couple here about Wendy, some about Slightly and the twins, but many of his happy thoughts are about Peter. The amount of trust and love Toots feels for that sprite-like little Pan is incredible. After all, Peter saved him from certain death. All Toots can recall is an abandoned pram and a young boy lifting him from it. Lifting him so high into the sky, the thick London air began to thin, and city lights multiplied. Of course, Peter would regale him later with the tale, so he always knew the way to Neverland. “Second to the right and straight on ‘til morning. Near the stars of the Milky Way and always at the time of sunrise.” Home fills the remainder of his happy thoughts. Tootles loves Neverland more than anything, but I’m afraid without me there to remind him… he may leave. What would I do then? Nobody would be looking for me. Nobody else needs me.

I’m too scared to think about Toots’ happy thoughts. It all seems too bleak. Tootles, my sweet friend. If you can hear me, please don’t give up on finding me.