He is Coming...

Wendy, it whispered again, this time next to her ear, its presence never leaving her, stroking that captive lock as it urged her to sleep.

She almost cried out at its soothing tone, feeling utterly desecrated by a voice—which she believed belonged to that of some nightmarish phantom—that had strangely released her hair from its imprisoning grasp, as shifted its massive frame on the bed—Wendy dared not look—behind her, and remained close. Tears brimmed along the corners of her closed eyes; for although Wendy remained outwardly defiant, wilful to the perversity which now drew near an unmarried woman—even if she believed it imaginary and merely curious of her—she knew it to be there, taunting her with its invisible company.

And yet, the reasonable part of her mind contested, it had only touched her shoulders and hair—nothing indecent, by any means—for even if she had wanted it to cease in its ministrations, she allowed it to remain, where she instead curled into that of a tiny ball, and prayed as it lay there and held her. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God, please, please make it stop. Make it leave. Make it go away!

But she received only silence as an answer, and she shuddered under the pitiful protection the sheets offered her, hoping that the dawn would soon come, and with it, the sun. Yes, with the morning, she believed, everything would be as it was, just as her present fears, would be nought but an anecdote, to be laughed at over breakfast.

Yes, she thought desperately, with the morning, everything will be better. But until then, she would sleep, and would thus dream of a boy whom she longed to see; and of a world without the horrible presence, which she still could not fathom, even in her dreams.

For whether it was by the mercy of some divine entity, or of her own, forced volition, Wendy fell into a restless slumber, where only nightmares and waking dreams plagued her for the rest of the night. As a voice—one of vague familiarity—continued to whisper her name, as well as a dark promise:

Wendy, Wendy, Wendy…

Canst thou hear me?

…I am coming…

Wendy, Wendy…

…Darling.


...

This is basically some concept art for a story I've been working on recently. I sketched quite a bit of this out, whilst watching a few hours of Celebrity Ghost Stories, and this was the end result. I've been trying to get this put down on paper for months now, so perhaps that show actually helped me through my artist's block! ^.^

I tried to be as detailed and accurate as possible on Hook's clothing and accessories, but I ended up no longer caring about it. He is, by the way, holding the kiss Peter gave to Wendy, which is just a tad creepy, in my opinion. o.0;

But, as you can already guess by the snippet above, it's a Hook/Wendy story, with an added, dark twist to the pairing.

I love ghosts, and the idea of Hook haunting Wendy intrigued me. There's that, and there's also the fact that the good old Captain is as wicked and compelling in death as he was in life. Wendy had best beware. o.0;

Pencil Graphite and a lot of Patience.