Tim was a Willoughby by name, but was he really a Willoughby inside? Time thought this and many other questions while he sat uncomfortably on the top of the pile of coal in the house's coal room. He sighed and shifted a little to try and get a bit more cozy. It didn't work. He had The Book of Willoughby History in his lap, it was opened to a page where he could see a big family member showing a ribbon to the camera, the picture was in black and white, unlike the painting littered around the house, or in the book itself. He knew this book front cover to back, he memorized all the great achievements of the Willoughbys.
Yet, he couldn't seem to see his page, great great grandfather Willoughby was quoted saying "If you can imagine it, then it can be." If Tim can't imagine his own page, then what would he do? He could imagine his sister's page. She would be a star! Not in a literal sense, no, in a figurative way no dought. "She could sing better than any angel I'd ever meet." he thought out loud. He knew she would grow up to be a famous singer. He also knew what his brother's Barnaby would be known for in the history of the Willoughbys. They would become great inventors! He could just feel it. Their creativity, wit, and teamwork can plan and create just about anything they can think of, and they can think of anything. Things a normal person would never have thought about in a million years.
"It just comes so naturally for those three." Tim thought somewhat bitterly. He just wished he could figure out what comes naturally to him, cause as of now, in this dark room all alone, he doesn't think he's good for much of anything. Tim shifted once more, to cover his face. He wants to be a great Willoughby, but how?
Jane played quietly by the window. She saw a person walking their dog, a big, grey, shaggy dog. She oh so wanted to sing about them, the lyrics already forming in her mind.
"Out in the street,A grey dog with four feet,Is looking around in wonder."
She didn't realise she had started to sing the song aloud, until of course a loud thump was both heard and felt underneath her. She didn't have to listen to her Mother and Father's screeches to know what they said.
She wished she could just grow up already. She loved her parents, though she didn't know why, but she wanted s life that was her own. She wanted the big family dinners, like in the portraits. She wanted a child running around the house, filling it up with laughter instead of the gloom that had seemingly always been there. She wanted to sing freely and be encouraged by an authority figure. She wanted her family to be a happy one. Why, in all the books that she's read, has she never seen a family like hers?
Barnaby was talking with Barnaby in the corner of the attic. "Should we ask before or after dinner?" Barnaby asked. "Before." Barnaby replied. "Before." Barnaby parroted. "Tonight?" Asked Barnaby. "Tonight." Agreed Barnaby. In case you readers might be confused, they're talking about asking mother for a new sweater. And some new shoes for Jane. And maybe some tools if they could manage. It's hard working with just the nub of a screwdriver once sharp.
They never did end up doing it however, as Tim warned them of all the negative possibilities. They knew they were asking for to much, they'll just make their own tools, they decided. They disassembled one toast extractor in creepy silence, seemingly speaking without words and they started working on a toolkit they could but in the attic to use. The sweater would have to wait, they concluded, as none of the Willoughby children knew how to knit. At least, they didn't want to know. Why should they deserve another sweater? They mulled this over as they worked in silence, side by side.