Let the fun begin! Here is the prompt for today:
As the sun sank beneath the horizon, a dandelion of the same colour tumbled from the hand of a statue in Kensington Gardens, London. Almost impossible to see in the falling darkness - if there had been any witnesses, but the park was closed for the night, in any case - the fingers of the statue began to move, bending and stretching, bending and stretching... Suddenly, the whole figure stretched, its arms reaching for the star-covered sky, its mouth wide open in a yawn.
Peter jumped down from his pedestal decorated with animals and fairies, looked at the flute in his hand and threw it away with a grunt. It bounced a few times on the paved ground before it came to rest under a bench. Peter went and sat on another one, burying his face in his hands.
Another day wasted; another day in which she hadn't come. He had been so sure that she must come past the monument at some point! Why else would he wait here, day after day still as a statue, pretending to be himself, only in metal instead of flesh and blood? After weeks and months and years of waiting, though, he had still not seen her.
It may be that he was waiting in vain, but he refused to think that way. Peter had left home, had given up everything to search for her, and he would not return before he had found his Wendy. One day, she had to come... Then they would be Peter and Wendy again, forever.