At Cannibal Cove...

Clouds moved sluggishly across the night sky, and the wind drove them on like sheep. The light of the large main moon and its two small secondary moons cast a silvery glow on the dark Neversea. The light shimmered like a cluster of beautiful gems on the white-crowned waves.

Gurgling waves trundled flat against the white powder beach of Cannibal Cove, nestling over the cooled sand and drenching it with salt water. The excellent wet left darker stains on the shredded bones, crushed further and further by tides until nothing remained of the dead but shimmering white sand. It was beautiful to look at, as it was presented in an almost white dress during the day.

Boot prints formed deeper hollows here and there on the beach, but they were barely noticeable among the scattered shells, smaller rocks, and clumps of seaweed and seagrass that the sea had washed up. Palm trees waved their green fronds in the gentle breeze not far from the beach, casting jagged shadows on the white beach. The waves swallowed up all sounds, even those of the forest, like a bulwark that stood there close together. They rolled thunderously forward, only to retreat with a gurgling sound. Everything here seemed peaceful and harmonious ... but appearances were deceptive.

On this beach he could call home for many years, a man walked alone between collapsed tents and charred wooden huts. The pitiful remains of the pirate camp were no more than ruins, after first Pan in his wrath and then the natives had ravaged here. Scraps of canvas fluttered in the wind; crates lay overturned and broken open in the sand. The fireplaces, by whose warming flames the crew had sat many an evening, had grown cold, scattered, and black coals scattered as far as he could see among shells and driftwood.

The Jolly Roger, once the great pride of its captain, swayed in the bay's waves. The two masts still stretched toward the sky, but the black sails had been cut to shreds, many portholes smashed in, and the galleon ran aground at an angle. Ropes now billowed, groaning in the evening breeze, making the ship seem eerie and ghostly in the oppressive mood of the place. Death lay like an invisible, black veil over this place.

"All alone is Smee now ... no one is here anymore ..." his soft voice murmured into the evening breeze. The man with the red-knitted cap and white hair looked at the sand that swallowed his footsteps and traced his footsteps behind him.

"All gone ... All dead ... No more captain for old Smee ..."

The gaunt pirate casually stepped over the remains of a fallen palm trunk. The worn shirt, long ago white, now stained brownish, as if dipped in the coffee brew, no longer had sleeves but merely showed fringed edges in the appropriate places. The leather, knee-length trousers were dark brown and no less affected, as were the boots, whose buckle fastening had become dull over the years and had acquired some rust-red stains.
The sun-tanned skin was caramel-brown, littered with dry wrinkles and some scabby patches, and large, slightly protruding eyes with soft-blue irises darted from one spot to another, lost in thought and without aim. In addition, the formerly red drops of blood stained his clothes, which had taken on a disgusting brown color in the meantime. His captain struck a great blow again a significant arch-enemy a few days ago. They had stolen the forest goblin his treasures. However, the changeling's treasures were not goblets of silver or chests of gold. No ...

"Shouldn't have stolen ..." the man babbled, plagued by the dark memories. They had wanted a mother, had wished she would stay—dark souls, and yet that spark that never died - not even in a Captain Hook. Victory had been so close, the captain so cunning. But then it got out of hand ... and now there was no crew, no captain. No darling children, no lost ones ... just blood, silence, and so much anger. He had felt sorry for the poor boy.

"Now we are all alone ... No lost ones, no pirates ... Silent ... all so quiet ..."

Smee continued to mutter softly, staring at every stone and shadow, no matter how small, among the white grains that betrayed that something might be hiding beneath the sand.

The large eyes lingered on edge, and the soft, slightly trembling voice fell silent. The haggard pirate stopped, stooped awkwardly, and dug around in the sand. A closed shell of unusual reddish color appeared in his rough hands. Gently he stroked it with one finger, feeling all the grooves in the hard surface.

"You are dreaming of day brights..." he continued again with his babbling, and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he cleaned the shell of sand crumbs and looked at it closely before making it disappear into a pouch he wore on his belt.

At that moment, thunder and rumble sounded in the sky. The pirate raised his eyes and expected storm clouds and front, lightning, and thunder. Above him, all the stars in the sky shone, twinkling in competition ... Or at least they were supposed to.

"How strange ..." Smee babbled, then he watched the spectacle of the miraculously beautiful catastrophe.

Silver shimmer drew a mesh like a fishing net across the sky. Moons hung in it like puffer fish, and small stars winked, yet the sky seemed much darker than usual. The shadows lengthen, the night sky more bottomless... more endless? As if the actual, intimidating darkness flashed out behind it for the first time. Lights fell from the sky, dozens and dozens of shimmering streaks behind them as they hissed in the seas and rumbled on the island.

The Neversea seethed, waves roaring wild and agitated, stretching their waters further into the land. Waves washed loudly, rushing around his legs. The earth shook, the air trembled.... and the small, insignificant pirate Smee stared, his eyes wide and wondrous, taking in the spectacle and filled with silent wonder. They fell in heaps - shooting stars. They lit the night with their glow, flared up one last time, and then went out forever.

"How beautiful..." He reverently gazed at the shower of stars and strolled ahead. Under falling stars, sea and sand tickled his toes until his gaze met a bright glow surrounded by salty waves. They broke on the shining stone as Smee reached out and reverently stroked the fallen star with his fingertips.

Calloused hands released the fallen guest from surging spray and ground bone. The light was a little paler, yet it groped around and illuminated the aged features of the pirate. The small wrinkles were drenched in shadow as Smee turned the tingling stone back and forth in his hands. The glow reminded him of the little fairy that sometimes buzzed around Peter... but it wasn't golden; it was more transparent, cooler, and brighter. 'Innocent and pure,' Smee thought rapturously.

"How pretty you are ..." he murmured to the little star. The bright light reflected in the warm blue of his irises multiplied in them and made all facets shine while his lips formed dreamily into a smile.

"I wish," murmured the good Smee, "...the captain was here to see this."

The beautiful thing in his hands lit up; the light faded over his fingers. From one second to the next, there was nothing more in his fingers than a small lump of iron, from whose surface some silvery dust spread on his skin. Then the wind freshened. It no longer murmured but howled all at once. The palm trees rustled, and the waves flooded more firmly around his legs as if they wanted to flee from the sea toward the land. Irritated, Smee turned his head toward the Neverseas.

Was he mistaken ... or had someone just called his name?

His eyes widened. Smee's heart stopped, and the star slipped from his hands. The lump of iron fell into the rushing foothills of the surf at his legs and disappeared and thought. Staggering, Smee stepped to the side, tripped over his feet, and fell on his butt with a loud splash of sand and salt water.

The surface of the water directly in front of him bubbled and raged. Like a fish washed ashore, he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, staring and unable to move. His body shook uncontrollably, and the man's eyes were so big and wide as if they were about to pop out of his skull. Smee's legs shook so much that they could not have carried him even if he had tried. Wild waves and a cold wind whipped toward the stiffened man while he could do no more in sheer horror than crawl back through the bone sand, whimpering.

Before him, the murky surface gurgled, and churning spray clung to the creature rising before him from the shallows of the sea. Water flowed over the black and green scales as the sands of the Cove heaved under its weight. Huge, curved claws dug deep into the swells, cracking driftwood like rotten bone. The beast opened its massive mouth and let out a bloodcurdling roar. Yellow rows of teeth pointed and sharp, each big enough to break a seasoned sailor easily, gleamed smeared with salt water and blood in the light of falling stars and moonlight. The round, cold eyes in the mighty skull shone like the last twilight of the world.

Smee was sure he was facing his final demise. This creature was the Soul Reaper and the end of everything: the Neverland Crocodile. 

And now it had come for him, too.

Wordcount: 1.511 Words