Becoming Hook

A take on the boy that would become Captain Hook.

Alone upon a lonely bed,
surrounded by hearts too broken to ache,
staring out a distant window,
waiting for the man of the moon.
Shadows always seem to move,
but over the emblazoned keeper of the night
went the figure of a boy, a silhouette,
the perfect replication of me.
It hung, suspended. If it had a head and eyes,
they were all trained towards the window,
searching for the boy it would save.
Perhaps it smiled as it disappeared,
but it beckoned either way.
The next time it came into view, a shadow
had grasped an ankle.
It felt like nothing, not cold nor hot,
not tight nor loose. Nothing.
But way up in the sky I flew, shimmering,
golden-green dust the only trace of
past places and leaving trails.

Beneath, sticking up like galleons upon
the milky black sea of a city night,
towers once called tall said goodbye,
buildings that scraped the sky wished good luck.
Above, sparkling diamonds cascaded within
the giant dark cavern of the sky
whispered sweet welcomes with voices of bells.
The way was straight and narrow, the
shadow kept on in one direction, always
pointing towards a single star.
“The second star to the right of my guardian,”
I thought, corrected,
“The second star to the right of my moon.”

A beautiful sun, red and golden,
a phoenix egg giving fire the a sea beneath,
blessed a dawning sky with licks of its
unadulterated rays of color.
The ocean turned to land, where
deep blue turned to bleach white turned to lively green.
A fading shadow dropped me there,
where all colors combined yet remained the same.
The water cool and luscious embraced,
crystalline figures emerged from the deep blue,
children emerged from the lively green.
The maidens of the water guided me forth
where sands wet with morning dew clung to feet and legs.

They called themselves Lost Boys.
Orphans, those without homes, forever
lost to the only world offering kindness.
I became one quickly.
Rampaging and romping around the forests,
eating all their mystical fruits.
The eldest of us dressed like the leaves,
varying shades of that same lively green.
Called himself Peter, and with his small
flute he gave orders, became leader, Peter Pan.
“Never grow up,” His forever words,
spoken over and over, without effect.
Growing, growing, aging, aging. A
premature arrival to my wonderland.
They tried to stop it, they took
my left nails, my left fingers, then left hand.
Soon, the eldest boy, and sooner a young man,
no longer a Lost Boy, but forever alone.

Traveled back to the sea, alone upon a lonely island.
Soon, alone upon a lonely ship.
Beneath, a galleon stained black upon a sea of deep blue.
Beyond, crystal treasures cascaded within a great cavern.
So briefly did I own such fleeting friendship,
Forever did my heart seek revenge.
A constant hunt raging war with sea and enemies,
seeking solace in treasures beyond worth,
with no worth at all.
A name forgotten, but they donned me another,
Hook,
For what they had taken and what I gained in return.
Losing something human, becoming machine,
destined to sail forever.
A lonely man upon a lonely sea.

Author's Note

Unedited.