What you are about to read is based on my childhood imagination. I am sure that I am not the only one who had suffered with nasty, loud, pompous, shallow teachers, so I guess we could say this is a release of my frustration in these very words. I watched a lot of animated shows or movies where I wished I had certain animal characters for friends, but the character of the television adaption of Watership Down is definitely the one. I found them back when I was seventeen and my love for them has not faded. Their involvement is to blend with the idea of my ideas of my least favourite teachers as witches and my grandmother's own vile teacher as their leader. As a person with autism, I think back on how fun it was to use these alternate universes as only I was allowed to make the rules in my imagination. Speaking of which, this story is also inspired by Roald Dahl's dark classic tale, The Witches. I loved the story very much when I read it and just as much as watching the classic 1990 adaptation. This is the story of my own imagination brought to life.
So it came to pass, that I woke up at the age of fourteen. My parents greeted me as did my little brother Ben, only nine. I walked downstairs and there where banners that read Happy Birthday, Billy! and Fourteen Years Old!. We moved to the presents and very splendid ones they were too; Harry Potter trinkets form the popular book shop known as Waterstones as well as plastic figurines of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and McGonagall, all that from my aunt and uncle, books from my parents which consisted of Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien, The Animals of Farthing Wood by Colin Dann, The River Singers by Tom Moorhouse and Redwall by Brian Jacques, a collection of wolf stuff from my cousin (the wolf is my spirit animal) and a wooden Pinocchio doll in a green shirt and bow, red lederhosen, black hair, black shoes and a red hat with a green feather from my grandmother (my mother's mothe), an beautiful ornament of The Wizard of Oz from the Jim Shore brand as we both loved that film very much, from my grandfather (my mother's father), Puffin dramatized recordings of Roald Dahl's stories, consisting of The Adventures of Charlie and Mr. Willy Wonka, The BFG, Danny the Champion of the World, Fantastic Mr. Fox, George's Marvellous Medicine, James and the Giant Peach, Matilda and The Witches. That particular tale related to the unexpected term of events through this unforgettable story. My name is Billy Lamswith and recent events came almost straight after my birthday. A fearsome nightmare that involved evil enchantment, threat, survival and – to cling onto some light – unexpected friends.
I was in my school taxi along with some other kids, two new, another three older. They had all wished me a happy birthday and one of them, Ashton Tarr, a boy one year above me, greeted me with a card of Doctor Who pointing sonic screwdriver at my direction. Ashton Tarr was good laugh. He was a big movie and video game buff and sure loved Doctor Who and Harry Potter. If you ever needed help completing a level or need cheats, go to Ashton Tarr. When I started comprehensive school, he arrived in my second year. I never asked why he moved schools, though. He was one of those teenage boys who let his scruffy hair grow down to his shoulders. I myself was also like that, but just down to my jaws. My mother always moaned about it not looking very neat despite my assuring her that all teenagers have these types of hairstyles. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley let their hair grow in the fourth film in which they, like me today, were fourteen. My father himself in his younger days, took after Brian May from Queen and let his hair grow down to his back halfway, without the ringlets which May had. I may be a young adult, but I still stand by it, despite the fact I no longer have that hairstyle. Well, I sort of still do, but just down the tips of my ears.
My school went by the name of Henghara Comprehensive. It was special ned school. Yes, I am a person with autism, I went through a lot of hardship growing up with it, though I was given wonderful support by the teachers and headmistress of primary school. Henghara Comprehensive was a wonderful school which experimented the speciality of many pupils like me, experimented by fantastic teachers. My favourite teacher was put English teacher. Her name was Mrs. Joashin. She was a middle-aged lady whose hair was clearly bleached blond because I could see white linings through her hair, but he had one of those rare, warm smiles no one could ever come across these days. It was thanks to her that she gave me the idea of wanting to write books when I finished school. She taught us many fascinating literatures and legends like Robin Hood, George's Marvellous Medicine, A Christmas Carol, Romeo and Juliet and now we were studying Macbeth. Her classes were very homey because in the final hour, she allowed us to have a cup of tea and socialise, but when it came to birthdays, she would purchase a nice cake for the class to share. With it being my birthday, this was exactly what happened.
We had just finished our session on designing a VHS cover for a film adaption of the story and we were having a cup of tea and a slice of madeira cake with vanilla icing. I was discussing fiction with my friends. Jenson Pringles was crazy, that's all there was to describe him. A scrawny brown-haired guy who invented wild tales about summoning aliens to make pizza everyday lunch at school or that a crazy scientist was going to make a massive hole in the planet and suck everybody out and that it was up to us to save the planet. He'd make a very promising storyboard director for comics. Josie Chickers was a grounded young girl. She loved animals and she had her good days, but certain days she would berate me for thinking such things like imagining my own world or drawing cartoons. All this encouraged me to give it up and try to find more mature-sounding books like the ones I mentioned as my birthday presents. At the time, I felt I was often in the wrong and deserved her lectures. Peter Willstone was a wild fan of Spiderman, Shrek or Kung Fu Panda and he would never stop talking about them, almost to everybody's annoyance. Sally Joone was a decent girl. She never said much but she meant well. We still let her hang about because we knew she was harmless, though sometimes she would annoyingly ask for a swig of apple juice form me when I purchase one at the school tuck shop. I was something of a germophobic, which was why I did not approve, and I wondered if she could not get her own money or something. While some were flawed, they learned an important lesson through this yet untold story.
"What are your birthday plans?" asked Sally.
"Meal tonight," I replied eating my first bite of the cake in a pink napkin.
"What did you get?" asked Peter resting his elbows on the table whilst standing up.
I told him of the presents I mentioned, but when I got to the wooden Pinocchio doll, that was what set Josie off.
"Aren't you a little too old to be playing with toys?"
"It's not to play with," I defended gently. "Just a decoration. Pinocchio is one of my favourite stories and I picture myself as him because I feel different like him being made of wood."
"Oh, for goodness sake," she said angrily holding her hands out as though she were in an argument of parliament. "It's just a toy! It's time to live in the real world, Billy. Not the fantasy and TV world."
Embarrassed, I said sadly looking down at the cake, "Yes, you're right."
"Like Pinocchio form Shrek," Peter had set off. "'I'm not a puppet I'm a real boy'. Then his nose grew!"
"You have to understand, dude," said Jenson, "That when you live in the TV world, the creatures form outer space grow restless. The aliens are on the hunt for fantasy livers. Fairy tales make them stronger and we are doomed!"
I just sat quietly eating my slice of madeira and drinking my tea. Maybe Josie was right, maybe I am not acting my age. Being fourteen years old, you must not rely on fun and start focussing on the real world. Did I make the wrong choice of birthday gifts?
The Whittington Arms was a very grand restaurant. Not grand as in first class, but very sophisticated and had a decent bar to sit by and window chairs to eat melas or long tables for a party, which would include the Lamswith family tonight. Everybody who arrived I thanked them all for their cards and presents. As soon as I had finished, I stood wearing my black shirt and blue jeans to see enter my grandparents, my father's parents, my Grandpa Elliot and my wonderful Grandma Jane. They were both nurses in their younger days and held the very rare qualities of people back then with their sunny natures.
"Fourteen years old, huh?" said Grandpa Elliot.
"No, I'm seventy-four like you," I joked.
"I'm going to hit him in a minute!" he reacted to which everyone laughed.
My two older brothers soon arrived. The first with his family and the other with his girlfriend. They all had cards and gifts for me. My second oldest brother and his girlfriend had two one present each. My brother got me a book called The Complete Collection of William Shakespeare.
"I thank thee both," I joked.
"Thou hast our pleasure," my brother quipped.
His girlfriend gave me an audio set of the Classics Collection from Ladybird consisting of easily told classics like Oliver Twist, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island and The Three Musketeers. I was very grateful because as a person with autism I could understand the stories a lot easier.
My brother, his wife and his three daughters also had a card for me and a boxset: Harry Potter: The Complete Story, read by Stephen Fry. I was really happy with this. Stephen Fry is a legend with his storytelling voice. As for my grandparents, well, my great grandmother, Grandma Jane's mother, got me a cute little pink box which read Alice in Wonderland: A Curious Collection of Puzzles, with all the characters decorated on it such as the White Rabbit looking at his watch, the Mad Hatter walking with a cup tea and piece of bread and butter and Alice herself holding the shrinking potion in her hand. Then they presented their card and presents; there were two of them. One was small and lumpy looking like an ancient pear and the other was a fat rectangle. I decided to go for the silver-wrapped rectangle shaped one first; I unwrapped it to find it was the complete three series of the 1999 television series Watership Down. I thanked them for that one and unwrapped the bumpy one shaped like a pear, also wrapped in silver. It was a golden carved rabbit sitting down and looking up to the ceiling. I thanked them again and looked for quite some time at the carved rabbit and then at the Watership Down boxset. I know that the story is about rabbits, but I felt some odd connection to it all of a sudden. I even had the rabbit in front of me when the big birthday cake arrived and I blew out the candle, not before making the wish in my head I will grow up to be a man and no longer the child which Josie disapproves of. But why let all this ruin my fourteenth birthday? Fourteen was actually my favourite age.
This is all just a chapter of a good birthday which I thoroughly enjoyed, but this is all to show you the highlights of everything that had happened before the horrors began.