...

Well, first you must understand.
This place is a figment.

A island of misplaced things - missing socks, war ships, sea birds, unwanted children and unloved adults.
It's like the lost and found of English society.

And they are heartless little demons, the Lost Boys. They do not remember gentleness, so they play in the mud and nip at each other like wild animals.
Those mischievous boys with freckled faces and arrows strapped to their shoulders.

It rains sometimes. The sky gets dark, and it is when Neverland smells its sweetest. All of the Lost Boys huddle together in their home under the ground. Surrounded by moist dirt, they tell ghost stories so that they don't remember that they don't have mothers. The grown-ups do something similar below deck of the pirate ship. Because all grown-ups are pirates, you know.

Peter crawls up to crow's nest and waits the storm out. If he strains his ears, he can hear in the distance tic tock tic tock. A crocodile that swallowed a clock. A boy who won't grow up. It's all a fantasy, and yet...

Never grow up, they whisper, never die.

It is all too real for them.