The sun shone mercilessly down upon me on that hot summer afternoon in August. A burning sense of justice had made me embark on this trip, exhausting myself on a bicycle that I had had for years and, out of melancholy, didn't want to get rid of but that certainly didn't facilitate my ride. The once so soft fabric of my dress chafed along my thighs. I was bathing in sweat. That one leaflet — the token that made me undergo this journey in the first place — was already crumpled up and no longer worth looking at. But nobody could miss the chance to visit our homely annual fair (this, on the leaflet, was underlined and followed with various punctuation marks) and because word went around that the Sycamore Valley Ranch was inhabited again, I experienced it as my personal mission to extend an invitation to this mysterious resident as well. It was a steadfast sense of duty and compassion that was the common thread of my childhood and teenage years, and, I must admit, still is today. Being charitable is too beautiful a way to put it, but I had grown up with the idea of bearing a great responsibility, not only for my family members, but for my fellow villagers, neighbors whose condition was less fortunate than mine - as if those concerns could only be placed on my shoulders like the Good Christian I was. It had made me an active village inhabitant, while I did not explicitly enjoy it - even at the age of seventeen I had a hand in all kinds of organizational duties of village affairs, no, I did not enjoy it, but I did not detest it either. A kind of yoke that the universe had assigned to me, which I sometimes cursed and sometimes carried with me as a beautiful virtue. This was the reason I was distributing leaflets, and my own sense of justice had led me to receive this newcomer as one of us. And with that, a touch of curiosity.

The Figueroa Road ran steep, pretty much imperceptibly, and only tough athletes could cycle this hill with ease. I was no such athlete. During the simesters I could take the bus to the Midland School, to which I went and which was located right opposite the ranch, but it was a vacationday and I thought the thirty minute cycle would do me good, but the devilish hot weather did not agree with me.

Maybe growing up in a small village two hours away from civilisation (although I still wonder if LA is worthy of such a word) is the cause of such an imperturbable personality. I had lived there all my life and I enjoyed being acquainted with neighbours, because with only about a thousand inhabitants it is not difficult to know everyone by name, or to at least have heard of them. I was not extroverted, just...social. As I said, I went to the Midland School, which was very close to nature and adhered to basic principles such as helping others. I enjoyed my time at this school with all my heart. Some of the students came from the village, like me, but most of them came from all over the country, they were children of rich farmers or environmental enthusiasts who sent their offspring to a distant area to help them learn to appreciate nature... or perhaps just to get rid of them. My father, a true Santa Barbara native, thought it was a good idea, simply because he cultivated grapes and wanted me to take over his fields someday. But that wouldn't happen. I had big plans (like every child from a village like ours), I saw myself teaching in Africa or building homes in East-Asia, advocate for environmentalism in Washington and tour Europe to learn its culture. Maybe the villager in me had found its origins in the humanitarian (at least, the ambitions).

This is how I finally arrived at my destination. The Midland School was deserted - it was summer break and pupils returned to where they had come from - making the silence of nature even more deafening. For a moment I stood still and looked out to the right, past the school, where in the distance the magnificent forests of Los Padres loomed up. The trees stood out like ancient masters along the horizon. It was a place where I liked to go to shake off everyday life, to enjoy the splendor that God has given us. A bit nervously, my gaze turned to the left, where the wooden, narrow gate, fixed by stone walls, became visible through the green foliage. Without a firm plan, I pushed my bicycle towards it, took a deep breath and knocked somewhat uncomfortably on the wood. I could see how a dark man stepped out of the guard house, who achieved his authority by looking speculatively over the gate. His stature arose above me, a thick frown above his eyes, then nodded. I coughed and I could feel how dry my mouth was.

"Good afternoon," I started. I showed him the leaflet, which he looked a bit indifferent, and I explained the situation in more detail.

"Is it true that the ranch is inhabited again? Our fair is coming, and I didn't want anyone to miss it!"

I smiled broadly, saw how the gentleman's face relaxed and even a crooked smile appear. I then took a bottle of wine out of my linen bag, presented it to him, "and a welcome present. Wine from our fields!"

There was a hint of pride in that phrase. The security guard then started laughing, though not out of politeness.

"Sister. You think he goin' come to some fair like he got that kind of time on his hands? Thanks, I'll take the wine."

His chubby fingers were already gripping between the splints. I didn't understand what he meant. I felt the sour feeling of insult bubbling up inside me.

"Excuse me, sir," I stood on my toes so I could look at him more closely, "but it's my job to distribute these leaflets. I didn't want to forget anyone. I should have taken more of them with me, one for you..."

"Oh shit, you really don't know?" He sighed, shook his head and smiled to the ground. "Well, that means you're just a nice person. Wait here, okay?"

I nodded, even more confused than before, watched the large man disappear back into the shack. The door was open and I could heard him informing a colleague. His loud voice echoed clearly to where I was standing.

"She doesn't. Yeah, I will. I know we ain't down for strangers — you don't know if he's home?"

The cumbersome body turned to me for a moment, as if to assure himself he was not mistaken in my presence.

"Aight. I'll send her to you. Give her a tall glass a water, she got here on a damn bike!"

Loud laughter overtook my mind and I felt more and more uncomfortable in my position, the steering wheel of my bike clasped weekly in my hands. The security guard returned, the neutral expression on his face reappeared as if to say that despite the fact that he opened the gate now, he was still skeptical. I pushed my bike through the portal and thanked him.

"Yeah, yeah. Just head on down the road. Keep to the left, sure enough you'll be able to find the second gate. My buddy over there will tell you where to go!"

Gratefully I nodded, smiled sincerely and got on my bike with some determination, when he yelled at me one more time, "And hey," I turned around, "don't faint," he winked, I shrugged and went.

The arid path was quite broad and passed green leafage, rose for a moment, then descended again. I cycled slowly and indecisively, wondering if this had been a good idea. The heat didn't bother me anymore, it had to give way to a tangle of nerves I felt in the depths of my stomach.

It seemed that at that moment I already knew what was awaiting me, that I realized that at the other end of that gate something sparkling new was in store for me, that would enter my life and turn it a 180 degrees. As if at that moment I was fighting a battle in my subconscious - to choose this path, to welcome him into my quiet life and then give him mine, or turn back so that the rest of my days would not inevitably be marked by his existence. Even if I had known it then, everything down to the miserable and macabre details, even then my seventeen-year-old self would not have turned back, for I already had enough wisdom to realize that pure friendship and love are magical things that make life such a marvelous and wonderful thing, no matter what. In the depths of my being I seemed to have sensed this, I put more force on the pedals, saw the wondrous gate, decorated with golden letters, "Neverland," and another mister waiting for me.

I could already see how behind the bombastic entrance the main house appeared, as if it came straight out of an Austrian drama - decorated with wooden poles and lovely flower boxes. Immediately I felt a strange kind of admiration for this bizarre place, which at the same time appeared as the most normal, as if it was a home I had never been to. Such a huge contrast to our little home seven miles down the road, and yet so much the same, as if they were joined together in an invisible dimension. The valet, a white man and equipped with a nice suit that looked like a movie costume, kindly waited for me. His elderly face radiated tranquillity and immediately I felt more at ease.

"A welcome present for Mr. Jackson? How he'll appreciate that!"

Without a moment's hesitation, he opened the gates and I drove into the yard. It was like something I hadn't even dreamed of. An earthly paradise, almost, with a pond behind me, a fountain of loveliness in front of me, even the pavement seemed to have been placed with care and love. And yet all this did not feel strange, it did not seem absurd to me, as a fairy world would do. Fairy-tale like, yes, but at the same time so earthy and realistic. I had stepped off my bike and walked slowly, taking everything in, towards the house, on my way to the front door.

The closer I got, the better I could distinguish a figure on the steps leading to the door. A narrow figure, a small bend in his stature. A dark face. Immediately I recognized him. I recognized him, yes, but his name did not occur to me, his name that had already been uttered by so many mouths, chewed flabby by the people, adding value to it, but taking importance away from it. Perhaps a higher intervention from above, that I recognized this man so clearly, but his name I couldn't possibly remember, didn't even know where to place him, and yet knew that he was such a special person. As if I recognized him from a previous life...! The figure slowly moved like a dull shadow, his hand thoughtfully placed at his mouth, a meaningless smile resting on his face that was not meant for anyone in particular. My heart skipped a beat. And with that I felt how a deep curvature pushed through my body like a wave - for a moment I thought I was becoming ill, that I had gotten into a heated ecstasy and imagined it all as a fata morgana, but the swinging did not ebb away and continued, like raging waves crashing against a small ship. Then I knew: the nauseating energy that could be felt deep within my being was not unknown to me. Like when a family member with whom no one is comfortable suddenly wants to visit again, that was how this earthquake greeted me. Because this was not a unique experience, I would not have been afraid had this been a normal situation. Had I been safe at home, I would, following my parents' example, have taken the younger children under my care, it would have made me feel anxious for a moment that would immediately give way to just swift action to bring bystanders to safety. But I wasn't home, and I was terrified. I laid myself down on the earth, my head clasped in my hands, praying to God that me and my family's lives would be spared. Sweat broke out of me and intense loneliness attacked me, in those mere seconds that the earth trembled. The ranch was obliterated, no more earthly magic, just me, my thoughts, and that brief tremor that felt like an eternity...

Until suddenly I realized a person knelt down beside me, and felt a hand being laid on my shoulder.

Immediately I knew that it was the man whose stature I had observed at the entrance of the house, who instinctively tried to comfort a weak creature, not out of magnanimity, but out of a true compassion that did not allow him to dwell. The hand remained resting lightly on my body, and in a strange concoction of rapture I understood that this was the moment in which my steady way of life would be thrown upside down, because he was there now, and I would never be able to return to the moment in which I had not yet felt that loving stroke. I understood that the moment I would get up and look at him, my life would have been turned a 180 degrees, because he was there now, and his hand was on my shoulder, and it offered me more comfort than a quick prayer could ever have given - maybe this was Gods answer.

When I look back on it from hindsight, this can be the only explanation, I believe. Yes, this was His answer, here, Bethel Regel, I will give you safety, just like that, a caress of solace, and a person who will need you more than you need him right now. Here you go, Bethel Regel, here is the rest of your life laid out in front of you at the gates of Neverland, where a man has knelt down near a young girl.

—

I'm so excited that I'm finally uploading these chapters to Wattpad. I started writing this fan-fiction four years ago, can you believe that?! Anyways, it's a rollercoaster, so stay tuned! Please vote and let me know what you think! Thanks loves.