A chilling night of December, I woke up to the sound of a knock on the door. It wasn’t the delivery man I was pretty sure about that, he wouldn’t come at 3 am. In a moment, I heard a sparkling sound at the window and a thud on the ceiling. I was on my feet with my heart pounding and in a jiffy I was moving down the stairs with a bat in my hand. With my grip slowly tightening, I tried to peek out of the door but all I saw were vague images of people standing on my porch. An unknown voice suddenly said, “Are you going to open or not, we’re really tired!” Thinking it was yet another one of my neighbor’s guests who came to the wrong house, I abruptly opened the door and all I could see was one of the characters from my favorite stories, a visitor from Neverland, Peter Pan. I look at his face with squinted eyes, wondering if I’m still dreaming. “You dragged me and Tinker Bell out of our story! I figured that out in the last 3 hours! I am a character from that book!” We both stood silently as I continued squinting at his face, not quite able to figure out the words. He and the fairy started turning red with anger and frustration. Pushing past me he ran to my room. Realizing that a strange man had just entered my house without my permit I ran after him not losing the grip of my bat. I looked around the room and there was fairy dust all over the floor and they both were looking for something desperately, Suddenly Peter stood up from the floor and exclaimed, “Is this it? Is this me? Tinker! Tinker Bell, does this man on the book look like me?” The fairy joyfully nodded and I yelled, ” What are you doing? How did you get here?”
They both turned towards me. Peter, once again, turned red. He moved closer to me with an angry expression, and said, “Oh, don’t you get it! I’ll figure out how to get back on my own!” Hurriedly, he runs towards the window and bumps his head. Frustrated, he shakes his head and stomps his way back to me and snatches my bat without breaking his stare. Strolling back to the window he breaks the window and they both fly out. While Tinker Bell gives me one last stare, during which I stand among the shattered glass, still trying to put the pieces together of what had just happened.