Will
Will walked home slowly. He was carrying the only thing that had taken his fancy from the vast mountain of stuff; the silver athame. He had at first been drawn to the idea of making a beginning from Maddie Hayes' cheerful end; a collection of old, treasured items such as Will, child possessing only the new and shiny, had never had, but something in him rebelled against it. It would be a lie to carry around someone else's memories and treasures as though they were his own; to define himself that way.
His own possessions, new now, his computer and his library of hardback classics would have to grow old with him. That was the way. But he'd keep the athame to remember an old lady who'd lived the way Will would wish to live.
He reached his digs and walked up the stairs with a sigh. Suddenly his computer, his programming and his studies, seemed slightly arid and dry work. He had enjoyed the company of James, enjoyed even the heavy-lifting work, which Will was unused to, enjoyed the small glimpse he'd had of the four girls who were working in the attic; full of life and sun.
Will bowed his head, the pure, short white hair glowing in the light of the computer screen. Then he smiled. He would be seeing James... and maybe the girls again, tommorow. Life suddenly seemed better. He returned his attention to his programming
Will walked home slowly. He was carrying the only thing that had taken his fancy from the vast mountain of stuff; the silver athame. He had at first been drawn to the idea of making a beginning from Maddie Hayes' cheerful end; a collection of old, treasured items such as Will, child possessing only the new and shiny, had never had, but something in him rebelled against it. It would be a lie to carry around someone else's memories and treasures as though they were his own; to define himself that way.
His own possessions, new now, his computer and his library of hardback classics would have to grow old with him. That was the way. But he'd keep the athame to remember an old lady who'd lived the way Will would wish to live.
He reached his digs and walked up the stairs with a sigh. Suddenly his computer, his programming and his studies, seemed slightly arid and dry work. He had enjoyed the company of James, enjoyed even the heavy-lifting work, which Will was unused to, enjoyed the small glimpse he'd had of the four girls who were working in the attic; full of life and sun.
Will bowed his head, the pure, short white hair glowing in the light of the computer screen. Then he smiled. He would be seeing James... and maybe the girls again, tommorow. Life suddenly seemed better. He returned his attention to his programming