(Starts approximately one month after the shutting of the final window, in
Will's world.)
A brief introduction
A puddle of water sat undisturbed, filling a pot hole in the middle of the side walk. A layer of oil rainbowed around the surface, sparkling into colorful patterns that would rival that of a kaleidoscope. It was paid no interest by those passing by. Those with armfuls of groceries, piles of papers, or other pressing baggage, had no time to waste eyeing at a small spot of pollution. The water, though as vibrant as Joseph in his Technicolor dream coat, seemed to be a place to which the human eye averted itself. But it was not alone in this aspect. Dressed in worn leather shoes, second hand pants, and a broken wind breaker, the boy shlumped down the street, being paid less attention than a drone ant in the presence of its queen. The voltage of his inconspicuous meter could fry your breakfast black.
The souls from his shoes slapped the concert in a monotonous rhythm. His mind was buzzing with a number of problems and questions, the majority of which were trivial. He was aware that the rumbling above his head was growing louder, and that rain clouds were commonly known as the biggest party pooper of them all. This poor soul, was Will Parry. And his shabby attire was his most minute problem.
Will was raised by his mother, who he abandoned later in life. His mother was a bit strange. Not quite right in the head. She had weird obsessions, with touching and counting things. Despite all her quarks, her son loved her very much. But he was young, and jumped to conclusions. He grew weary of her, and asked an old friend – he thought she was a friend – to take care of her for a while. Will left his confused helpless mother on the doorstep of the piano teacher. The woman who would slap his hands with yardsticks when he made a mistake on his arpeggios. The woman who had enlisted her own daughter in Britain's armed forces, just to get her out of the house. Will needed to collect himself, but he had every intention of coming back. And come back he did. Several months later, he made his way to the door step of Mrs. Cooper, the demonic musician. Mrs. Cooper was not there. Had not lived there for weeks. And his mother? In a loony house. Sold to the black market. Thrown of Big Ben – how was one to be sure? For the past four months, Will had been in another world.
Will was on his own. The one friend who he had on this earth was arrested on sight. Will was in a bit of trouble himself, but being the chameleon that he was, the police practically avoided him.
The trouble that Will was in, was not necessarily light trouble. The boys will be boys plea did not cut his cookie in the right shape. His square pegged crime did not fit in the round hole of justice. He was cornered in a round room, with little to be done about it. He was a murderer. At least thought by some. The man who kills another man in self defense, should not be prosecuted, as well as if the death is accidental. Though both of these were true at the time, Will was pinned against the razor sharp edge of the law, and he could barley move.
Will had tried ways of escaping. He had considered fleeing to other countries, but by England being an island, his modes of transportation were significantly limited. He had considered seeking outer help. A lawyer, a social services worker, someone who was on his side. But after lots of thought, the conclusion was made that he had a background only a mother could love, and even this was beyond his own mothers ability. He would have considered the possibility of resigning his live to the church. Becoming born again, and helping others, but Will was one of the few individuals who was affiliated with the concept that the God Almighty, was dead.
Will was very special in other ways as well. He had discovered his second half. His better half. The primal, and also feminine half. As he plodded down the street, feet dragging, arms swaying, by his side proudly stepped a shimmering black cat. It trotted along, unseen by the eyes of the world around them. Unlike Will, Kirjava, Will's Dæmon did not have the choice of being seen. Will had come to the conclusion that only the people who looked the right way, could see his cat. Every one else had stupid eyes.
A lonesome wondering boy, with his pet cat with no one else in the world, that is, not his world.
A brief introduction
A puddle of water sat undisturbed, filling a pot hole in the middle of the side walk. A layer of oil rainbowed around the surface, sparkling into colorful patterns that would rival that of a kaleidoscope. It was paid no interest by those passing by. Those with armfuls of groceries, piles of papers, or other pressing baggage, had no time to waste eyeing at a small spot of pollution. The water, though as vibrant as Joseph in his Technicolor dream coat, seemed to be a place to which the human eye averted itself. But it was not alone in this aspect. Dressed in worn leather shoes, second hand pants, and a broken wind breaker, the boy shlumped down the street, being paid less attention than a drone ant in the presence of its queen. The voltage of his inconspicuous meter could fry your breakfast black.
The souls from his shoes slapped the concert in a monotonous rhythm. His mind was buzzing with a number of problems and questions, the majority of which were trivial. He was aware that the rumbling above his head was growing louder, and that rain clouds were commonly known as the biggest party pooper of them all. This poor soul, was Will Parry. And his shabby attire was his most minute problem.
Will was raised by his mother, who he abandoned later in life. His mother was a bit strange. Not quite right in the head. She had weird obsessions, with touching and counting things. Despite all her quarks, her son loved her very much. But he was young, and jumped to conclusions. He grew weary of her, and asked an old friend – he thought she was a friend – to take care of her for a while. Will left his confused helpless mother on the doorstep of the piano teacher. The woman who would slap his hands with yardsticks when he made a mistake on his arpeggios. The woman who had enlisted her own daughter in Britain's armed forces, just to get her out of the house. Will needed to collect himself, but he had every intention of coming back. And come back he did. Several months later, he made his way to the door step of Mrs. Cooper, the demonic musician. Mrs. Cooper was not there. Had not lived there for weeks. And his mother? In a loony house. Sold to the black market. Thrown of Big Ben – how was one to be sure? For the past four months, Will had been in another world.
Will was on his own. The one friend who he had on this earth was arrested on sight. Will was in a bit of trouble himself, but being the chameleon that he was, the police practically avoided him.
The trouble that Will was in, was not necessarily light trouble. The boys will be boys plea did not cut his cookie in the right shape. His square pegged crime did not fit in the round hole of justice. He was cornered in a round room, with little to be done about it. He was a murderer. At least thought by some. The man who kills another man in self defense, should not be prosecuted, as well as if the death is accidental. Though both of these were true at the time, Will was pinned against the razor sharp edge of the law, and he could barley move.
Will had tried ways of escaping. He had considered fleeing to other countries, but by England being an island, his modes of transportation were significantly limited. He had considered seeking outer help. A lawyer, a social services worker, someone who was on his side. But after lots of thought, the conclusion was made that he had a background only a mother could love, and even this was beyond his own mothers ability. He would have considered the possibility of resigning his live to the church. Becoming born again, and helping others, but Will was one of the few individuals who was affiliated with the concept that the God Almighty, was dead.
Will was very special in other ways as well. He had discovered his second half. His better half. The primal, and also feminine half. As he plodded down the street, feet dragging, arms swaying, by his side proudly stepped a shimmering black cat. It trotted along, unseen by the eyes of the world around them. Unlike Will, Kirjava, Will's Dæmon did not have the choice of being seen. Will had come to the conclusion that only the people who looked the right way, could see his cat. Every one else had stupid eyes.
A lonesome wondering boy, with his pet cat with no one else in the world, that is, not his world.