Flash Fiction: The Darling Shoes

The children turned out the light and waited under their covers, their shoes ready. Peter Pan always came… when good and ready. His time. 

Tap-tap. John opened the window as Michael and Wendy grabbed their shoes.

“This is for the psycho pirate —”

Peter dodged the projectiles. 

“Getting us kidnapped. Nearly blown up, eaten by a crocodile.” 

Smack. Peter took the hint and left. 

The Darling shoes dangled on a pole outside their window. Their parents were going to go ape. Shoes didn’t grow on trees any more than horses became wishes. 

Only one option — fairy dust. John sprinkled himself and ran towards the window.

“Happy thoughts, John! Happy thoughts —”