The 1,000 Year Old Boy

I long to grow up, to be a man. I long to be in a hurry to do something, before time runs out. I long for the feeling that life is precious, that I have to cram as much as I can into every sun-drenched day and every frost-filled night; to know that childhood is special because it dies not last forever; to have friends, like Aiden and Roxy, who will not look at me strangely, and then turn away from me when I fail to age like them.

There were no housing estates nearby then. We grew stuff on a little patch of ground that had been cleared when the cottage was built. We had a goat called Amy and some chickens. (We did not give names to the chickens, because we sometimes ate them.) Biffa loved it. The house had been empty for a while when we moved in, and there were a lot of mice. Biffa caught them all within a few weeks. We read a lot, and – once it had been invented

I-am-sorry-I-took-your-glasses-and-I-won’t-do-it-again-there-can-I-go

When I said she was tiny,

but there’s so much of it that it’s almost like the kiosk is on fire.

Would you like to live forever? I’m afraid I cannot recommend it. I am used to it now, and I do understand how special it is. Only I want to stop now. I want to grow up like you.

And then … the fire happened and I discovered, for the first time ever, what it was to be totally alone.

Would you like to live forever? I am afraid I cannot recommend it. I am used to it now, and I do understand how special it is. Only I want to stop now. I want to grow up like you.

Why did you do it?’,

Oh! So you’re from, erm … Danishland. Pastries, yeah? I love ’em! That’ll be why you talk funny, eh? Anyway let’s have a look at your specs then?’ ‘My spectacles?