OUAT FanFiction

The man staggered towards him. His words slurred together in an incomprehensible string. All the boy knew was that his father was angry. He was a drunken mess and the boy pleaded with him to stop. The bruises were already forming, and there was no way that his father would stop.



"No! No, Papa! Don't! No!" The boy screamed. His cries seemed childish, only because he was fourteen. But fear coursed through him, his heart pounding so loudly it was almost deafening. He fell backwards, knocking over pieces of furniture as he crawled away, never turning his back on his drunkard father. "No, no, no, no, no! Papa! No!" He screamed. He was finally backed into a wall. His father raised his fist and swung it down like a club. When it made contact, the boy cried out. His cheekbone felt shattered. He crawled away, sliding along the wall. His whimpers were raw and loud, trying to get away. But his father was unusually fast and he continued to beat him, his language soon becoming more clear.



"You are nothing more than a mistake!" He screamed as he beat his son ruthlessly.

"And you are a terrible person! You are the most evil man I have ever met! You are a snake!" The boy screamed back. The made the beatings that more intense.

"And you are exactly like me!" His father retorted. With a final blow to the side of the head, the boy finally submitted and fell to the ground, unmoving, and blood falling from many different places. His breaths were rigid and uneven, and frighteningly shallow.



Malcolm woke with a gasp. The nightmare was over, but the fear still had not left. His father had caused these nightmares. That night he had often relived in his dreams was the night his father was arrested. The next morning he was executed. He hadn't always been that way. A drunk. The night Malcolm's father mother had died, his father had started drinking. He blamed Malcolm for his mother's death and soon began to beat Malcolm mercilessly. As the years passed, Malcolm tried to forget what had happened during that terrible year. He soon met a young lady, and they were married. She had died a year and a half later, in childbirth, The child miraculously survived. The small boy was not supposed to live long but he did. Malcolm looked at the small babe in his arms.



"Rumplestiltskin." He whispered, "Your name is Rumplestiltskin." As the boy grew, Malcolm's fear began to grow. What if he was going to be exactly like his own father. He withdrew from his boy, leaving him with two old maids. They taught him to spin and he seemed to be happy. Malcolm tried to stay close to him, but he could not control his fear. When he decided to come around to visit small Rumple, he taught him tales of a land he had visited in his dreams as a small boy. Neverland.



One day Malcolm took Rumple. It seemed his son was happy. He clutched a small straw doll. Malcolm had given it to him long ago, but the boy was still attached to it. As they continued to talk of Neverland, something magical happened. They traveled there by some sort of fate. As they walked along it's shores, Malcolm attempted to fly, as he did in his dreams. He soon found that he couldn't. He wished that he was young again. So he could fly. So he could be young enough to pretend that that awful year had never happened. He looked down at his body, and once again he was young. He could fly. Little Rumple was amazed. But Malcolm resented the child for being young. He realized he had for a long time. Without giving Rumple a chance to speak, he commanded his shadow to take the young boy back to the Enchanted Forest. His boy cried out.



"I'm sorry, Rumple" Malcolm laughed, "I was never meant to be a father." He watched as his boy was taken away. A small toy fell from Rumple's grasp. Malcolm picked it up. The straw doll. His boy had always called it "Peter Pan". And that is what Malcolm went by for the rest of his days. Peter Pan.