The Creation of Will Evans

He was exploring, once again, drifting like a lost ghost down the familiar corridor. At the end of the corridor, he knew that to his left there was the grand staircase, a hundred and eight steps that ascended to the crumbling classrooms of Fates House. But to the right lay the unexplored territory of the courtyard. Beyond that pristine square of grass, a small but intricate maze of green called to him. He knew the maze was there, although he couldn’t see it – this was the one place in the school that was forbidden. It was secluded enough that even the sun wouldn’t dare to venture there, and to him, it sounded perfect. The perfect place to get caught.

He drew half a step closer while assessing the situation, squinting slightly at the force of the light. No one was around. He had been told when he first arrived that no living person had stepped on the grass of the courtyard for many, many years. That should have been a warning. But he was dying to find a solution, and this was it.

Despite his determination, there was still something that kept his slim body lingering at the end of the corridor, waiting to step out of his comfort zone.

There was no problem that Will couldn’t figure out. He kept his intelligence hidden, stored up inside him like a powerful tool, dormant until it was needed. Unemotionally, he could use method and logic to solve anything that was bothering him. His deep blue eyes had never once displayed the secret inner workings of his mind; while his brain quickly worked to discover a solution, his eyes would betray nothing. Someone had once called him soulless, looking down at the timid school boy who had bludgeoned a stray cat to death in the storeroom. At the time, being called names had bothered him, but that was a long time ago. He soon learned how to shut down his feelings and just get on with the job. He, like his now black eyes, had become completely inaccessible.

While he stood there, torn between the solution and its consequences, he began going over his next move. He slowly rolled his shoulders back and began walking. You wouldn’t have guessed how nervous he was by looking at him. Pulling his faded black hood over his head made him somehow feel a little safer.

His eyes were trained strictly on the ground in front of him and although it was warm outside, his pale hands stayed firmly in his pockets. Desperation was leading him to the place where he might finally be able to escape. If not from the institution, then at least he could get away from his thoughts. Listlessness made him uneasy and three weeks had been enough. It was time to break some rules and get some attention. Any attention to get him out of there. It wasn’t breaking the rules that made him nervous; that was just the first step. He had questions that he knew would be answered today, and that was what had him on edge.

He remembered something from a lifetime ago, and tried to calm himself by breathing in deeply and listening to his heartbeat. A low chuckle escaped from his lips into the morning air as he remembered. He didn’t have a heartbeat.

He was irritated to find that the maze itself was nothing but a disappointment. He got to the centre with little difficulty, and found nothing but a small clearing and a bench. But then, listening hard, he caught the subtle buzzing that confirmed the presence of the cameras. Once certain that he was being watched, a smile etched itself onto the blank canvas of his face, still partially hidden by his hood. The plan had worked. He sat on the bench and waited. By now, he hoped, someone would be coming. 

It took them a full ten minutes to respond. He noted the three adults in dark clothing that were walking leisurely across the so called forbidden courtyard towards him. They had no weapons; they didn’t look like they wanted to drag him out kicking and screaming. As they got to him, one of them placed a hand on his shoulder. He quickly shrugged it off. Standing together, they became a shadow, helpfully blocking out the sun. He supposed they were trying to look threatening. He wanted to laugh. What were they going to do, kill an already dead teenage boy just for sitting on a bench? 

“Come with us”, they said. With a smirk, he got up. The fun hadn’t started yet.

A hundred and eight steps later, and Will was back where he had first woken up three weeks ago. Rowena’s office in Fates House. The important difference was that this time, the headmistress herself was there too. The men who had come to collect him left as soon as he was in the room.

Red nails on a pale hand softly pressed the door shut. He watched the edges of her robe gently sweep across the ground as she sat down at the wooden desk. It was cluttered with all sorts of small metal gadgets and other paraphernalia. Something was whirring. In a voice radiating warmth and comfort, she asked him to sit down.

The shake of his head made her chuckle, and he noted how her dark eyebrows dominated her face. She asked him again and his face stayed expressionless as he pulled his hood off. At his lack of response, she stopped and smiled sadly at him. He remained a statue, and watched as her pleasant demeanour slowly start to crack. “I’m going to be talking for a while, Will, so you should sit down.” 

He didn’t. 

“The truth then. Here’s your folder.” Thinking about that moment afterwards, he wished she had given him more of a warning. Because a little preparation would have been nice before he opened it and saw a copy of his death certificate and his own dead body. He didn’t even flinch looking through all the various newspaper clippings and photographs but his mind was recording every single one.

“Teenage boy dies after…”

“Tragic death of only child…..”

“Memorial service for William Evans…”

The photo of his corpse must have been from the autopsy. He hoped his mother hadn’t seen that one. He carefully put everything back in the folder, looked straight at the headmistress and waited.

Rowena’s painted red lips started to move a little faster after that. “So you agree then that this is no lie. You are certainly dead.” He hadn’t waited three weeks to hear that. After a pause she continued. “You are not in the afterlife, not exactly. Not everyone gets to see Fates House.” Was he supposed to feel privileged to be trapped in this dull place? Being alive was more entertaining. She looked at him, searching his face for a sign that he was paying attention.

“Have you noticed, Will, that nothing is in equilibrium? For example, you’re having a perfect day and something goes horribly wrong. Or, more rarely, you’re having a terrible day and something amazing happens. Did you ever wonder about that when you were alive? Did you ever think about why the scales of luck must always, always be tipped?”

He didn’t have to look to see the intensity in her eyes. He felt it burning a hole into his skull. 

“That’s our job here. That’s what we do. Almost every person here is training to become a Fate. Is it safe to assume you haven’t spoken much to anyone?” He wanted to curse her for being right. But even if he cursed her to hell, she would probably stay right there. 

“A Fate, Will, is someone who is assigned to another, living, human. You are the one who ensures that their life stays… balanced.” 

Balanced? That was the biggest joke of all. Didn’t she know how he had died?  He hadn’t even been able to balance his own life, let alone someone else’s. 

“I know what I’m doing. Don’t think this is the first time I’m having this conversation with someone.” She paused, and looked up at him. “Although, this is the first time I’m having this conversation with someone like you. Most people are just glad to find themselves still existing. And it’s only a very small number that break the rules to get my attention.”

“Well, it worked,” he muttered quietly, rolling his eyes at her.

At the sound of his voice she quickly looked away. “Why do you think the maze is there, Will? It’s a test.” 

She glanced upwards and let her eyes fall back down to him. “Normally, I decide who becomes a Fate; then I find someone for them to be assigned to. For once, things didn’t happen that way.” 

She slipped her hands into a pale set of silk gloves and reached for a small, intricately decorated mirror on her desk. He didn’t waste much time looking at it. 

“I picked this one out to be a Fate from birth. You can teach them the ropes while you’re doing your job.” As if he knew the ropes himself yet. She pressed a small glass red rose on the handle of the mirror, and the mirror began to reveal something. Rowena smiled at it for a while, her eyes flitting around, watching a scene. Then she passed it to him. 

“This is the person you’ll be working for.”

Will didn’t look. He wasn’t accepting this. Dark eyelashes shut the news out of his mind. He was in no way willing to help anybody.

“You misunderstand Will. I didn’t ask you to help them. I’m asking you to work for them.”

He couldn’t keep quiet. Passive aggression wasn’t helping the situation.

“So you want me to make things better for them when it’s getting bad, and ruin their day if it’s going too well?”

“Something like that. You’ll have a daily chart, and a general chart, both of which will need to be carefully observed. Let me explain the details.”

Some hours later, Will made his way back out into the sun. The hood was back on, his hands were once again hidden. But his mind was buzzing. Now he had purpose. He was no longer simply dead. 

[Image: a building at the University of Melbourne. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission.]