Captain Hook E-Book

Roza Maria Kerim

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Imagine being an amnesiac and having only one friend. Pretty bleak, if you ask me. Now throw in wanting to adopt your arch nemesis, without either of you knowing about your true identities and trying to defeat an overpowered magician. Captain Hook is not having a great day. 

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2023 Roza Maria Kerim

All rightsreserved

Thecharactersand eventsportrayed in thisbook arefictitious.Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, iscoincidental and notintended by theauthor.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express writtenpermission ofthepublisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890

ISBN-10: 1477123456

Attribution

Ebook design provided by kittl.

I dedicate this to everyone who wanted to fly to Neverland.

Captain Hook

I.

Everyonein my block saysI'm atormentedman.What aload of rubbish!

Theirunwanted pity suffocatesme, theirjudgment iscompletely unwelcome! I don't know why they keep staring, haven't they seen a man with amnesia before?Probably not, especially the Davis woman, who treatsme like an exotic wild animalworthy of being tamed.

She wakesme upat the crack of dawn every day,knockson my doorand leaves me chocolate mint cookies. But she disappears as soon as I openthe door, like an irritatingly benevolent ghost. In contempt I throwhalf of thecookiesin thetrash,theotherhalf being too tempting to throwaway.

Today, I stride into the living room, I recline on a coppery armchair and I open a book with my hook. The coveris red, expensive. It's an old, classicnovel.

AsI read it, someawfulscreamsfrom upstairsperturb me, thundering my eardrums.

“Son of a gun! Again thekidson thethird floorwatching horrormovies,”I say mournfully.

“Children should beseen, not heard,”I mutterbitterly knowing full wellthatI sound like a grumpy old man with a headache.

So what?I am grumpy! And thebratsgivemeheadaches!

Seeing that there is no escape from the infernal screaming, I grab my cookies and book and walk towards the park.It's a rainy day, my boots are soaking wet and it'sfreezing cold.

My teeth are chattering, but I'd rather freeze than stay home another minute.I am so smart that I forget my umbrellaandI'm not going back

forfearof committing a moreorlessintentionalcrime, likearson. I would notstop untiltheirTV turned to dust andashes.

I'm not thekind of man who beatsaround thebush.If someoneisa walking buffoon, I will not keep my mouth shut. I don't see why I should sugarcoat my words. Maybe that's why the neighbors avoid me, but aswe know, the truth hurts.

I reach the park, carefully avoiding the pools of water with greenish tadpoles and golden-brown snails. I rollmy eyeswhen I bump into a child staring at my cookies.

He's tall, looks about twelve, with brown hair and bright eyes the color of amber.He wears old, shabby clothes. He smiles playfully at me, but I'm sure that'snot a good sign.

“Hello,” says the rascal, his eyes fixed like a predator on the cookies in my hand.

I sigh deeply, I nod approvingly and ask him, “Wouldyou like a cookie?”

The smile gets even wider, impossibly wide, and the boy says “Oh dear! My parentswould tellmeI'm not allowed to takesweetsfrom strangers.”

“Well, if you don't want it,”I say hurriedly, trying to avoid him soI don't look him in theeyeasI biteinto my food.

“Thank GodI'm an orphan!”thechild says, andI hopehemeansit asajoke.

Suddenly, he lunges forward with force and takes the whole box from my hands, then takes it away screaming, “Adults like you are as slow asasnail!I bet you're seventy yearsold!”

The fact that he stole my sweets does not bother me, but the insolence masked by the politenesswith which he greeted me showsa remarkable lack of manners.

I don't knowwhat happened, my face probably turned red with anger, but I know for sure that my teeth were clenched and my blood pressure wasenormously high.

Thematuremoveisto ignorethepetty theft, orgostraight to thepolice. In any other situation that's how I would have acted. But this kid, this brat is making me completely lose control. And so the cookies became just an excuse, because the real challenge is the eternal struggle between youth and old age.

The boy relies on tricks, cunning tricks indeed, but it is time toprove to him that even old greyhounds can learn new things. Andso begins what at this moment I would call a chase between agruff titan, and a demigod in hisprime.

The child runs, and I followin his wake like a shadow. He looks back in wonder, and delight that I've tracked him down. We run through the alleys, slipping past cars. A rider with a beautiful, white, thoroughbredhorse almost bumps into us.The child laughs evilly like an imp, as if we were playing catch-up.

Heputsthreecookiesin hismouth,reluctantly abandoning therest, and climbsspry asa cat in a tree. The tree istall, majestic, fullof cherries.

“Get down from there this very moment, child,” I tell him, breathing hard,barely ableto keep up.

The child ignoresme, munching on cookiesand cherries.

“If you don't get down,and apologize right nowI'llturn you overto the police.”

“I'm not afraid of adults!I'm thewonderfulPeter,andyou play by my rules.” “Peterwhat?”I ask, sighing and rubbing my eyes.

“Peterthe Magnificent, just soyou know!”

“What's your last name, you naughty little…?” I ask him, hoping that maybe an uncle or aunt looks after him. Hopefully they can make Peter apologize.Andyes, I would like a letterof

about three pages, telling me how and why he acted wrongly. Despitemy intoleranceof children,I am ateacherafterall.

“Wow! Adultsreally do forget quickly! Didn't I tellyou?I'm an orphan! And I couldn't tellyou if I knew. I have amna..., amno...”

“Amnesia?”I ask him.

“Yes, that's the word!Bravo!” the child says and claps his hands like a monkey.

“Where doyou live?Do you have an aunt oran uncle?Brothers, sisters?” “Nope! Zero!”

“Fourth cousins?” I ask desperately.

The child shakes his head and I sigh resigned.

For a second I have the absurd thought that Peter has been monitoring me,watching my life, and making fun of my situation. But that thought quickly passes.

Crumbsfrom themint chocolatechip cookiesfallon my head asthe boy eatswith hismouth open.

“I have no parents, no aunts or uncles, brothers, sisters or eighteenth cousins!I'm aprisonerin achildren'sprison.”

“Children's prison!” I say in wonder.

“Yes, it's a realordeal!”he tells me with a certain almost sadistic pleasure. “It's constantly cold! I have to sleep with a bunch of boys who don't

knowwhat fun is.Thelady therebeatsuson thebottom with awooden spoon asthick asthree oak treesif we tella lie assmallasan ant.

He frownsfora second, then resumes.

“And Wendy's mom who always comes to visit is obsessed with the teaching. All day from morning till night homework, homework, homework! School, school, school!And then the otherkidsridicule me

for not knowing how to read. They're ridiculous! Why would I need to read in the first place?I was eavesdropping on what Mrs. Bell said.Mrs.Darling issupposed to takeusto museumsand theatersand shows and thezoo, but nooo! I'm PetertheMagnificent, though, andI'm managing!

Can't he read at his age? I wonder.

“What's the name of that horrible place?” I asked him, suspecting he lives in an orphanage.

“Hell, but it's also called...an orphanage!”heyells dramatically and accidentally dropsa cookie crumb on the floor.

Not caring about therest, he rushesdown quickly, nearly breaking his neck. He already had a whole cookie in his hand, which he left on atwig next to him. It'slike he'sgiven thesparrowin the hand forthe crowon the fence.

I quickly catch him beforehecrashesandask,“Areyou crazy?! What if anything had happened to you?”

“Asyou grumpy, smug adultssay, statistically impossible!”

At that moment I wish I were the lady with the spoon the size of three oak trees.

I take a deep breath and ask, “Why didyou jump out of the tree foran insignificant morselwhen you had a whole cookie in yourhand?”

“So that you could stealit?I don't think so!”he replied.

“I can't stealsomething that already belongsto me, you gremlin,”I whisper, trying to sound threatening. Peterstickshistongueout at me.

I did not seeyourname on it!