Billy's Golden Light

Billy was big, slow, and gentle. Everybody at school liked him… except a couple of kids, but his mum said that was normal.

He was polite to girls, and helped people when they fell over. And when Kacie Gutteridge found a dead pigeon by the oak tree at the edge of the sports field, Billy heard her crying and squeezed his fists and shut his eyes and thought of a golden light. The pigeon flopped onto its pink legs, ruffled its feathers and scrambled into the air, making Kacie shriek with fright and relieved laughter and happiness.

Kacie liked Billy a lot after that. Not like-liked. Billy cared more about being liked. About people seeing the soft, golden light in him. So when Kacie whispered to Marcia, and they went out and found a squirrel in the road, but its head was squashed, and they snuck it into school in a shoebox, Billy said no. Marcia said he was lying. But she was sad when her cat died, so he did something nice. All was forgiven.

That was why Craig pushed him over. It wasn't very nice of him. It really hurt.

'You’re a witch,' Craig said. 'You need to die. Stop being creepy, the girls don’t like it.'

Billy hoped this was a lie. He was careful to help people like him because that stopped him being scared of himself.

'Craig’s acting out,' Billy’s mum said that evening, over the dinner they shared. 'What he did was wrong, but you need to be nicer than usual. Craig doesn’t have a mum.'

Yes he does, thought Billy. Liar. And that poisonous blob in Billy’s mind grew and grew, all the way til eleven o’ clock, until he threw back his sheets and told the poison, 'Time to go.'

Billy was good at silently opening the front door, because he did it once a week. And Billy’s parents never suspected because they liked him.

The cold air felt like an exciting secret, and Billy walked quick. He found the grey stone wall and wiggled through the gate.

It took a lot of finding. He couldn’t remember Craig’s last name. But he found the new part of the graveyard, and among the gnomes and pinwheels and shining black headstones he saw Craig’s handwriting on a slumped-over, soggy card and lilies that spelled out 'Mum'.

Billy clenched his fists, and summoned the golden light. After a while, he felt the weight lift and stopped holding his breath. Nothing but silence.

Then, a scratch.

A low murmur, which grew to a muffled shriek, and scratching like a dog wanting to be let in.

It was loud, so Billy watched for lights in the houses over the wall. A big thump made a blue pinwheel fell over. He backed off - could she get out? He wondered if she had fake fingernails on, and if they broke off. He wondered if it hurt. The scratching got less. He didn’t hear the voice any more.

Billy held his breath, watching, for ten minutes. Nothing happened, so he decided to go home.

In the morning, his first smell was eggs.

'Hi! Sleep well?' His mum had a big smile.

Billy nodded happily, feeling peaceful as his mum gave him a plate of scrambled eggs, a one-armed squeeze and a kiss on the head.

'I love you, honey.'

Billy liked to be loved. And going to the graveyard some nights of the week helped him like others a little more.