They told Billy it was impossible. He could never break through the big stone wall in the village no matter how hard he tried. He was nobody special, but try hard he did.

In the beginning it was all just part of a child’s game — kids being little dicks to each other, bluffing while calling bluffs and the like. “Bet you can’t jump this high!” and “I can piss longer than you!” That kind of stuff. However, when Billy was challenged to break through the big stone wall, he wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d do it. He took up the challenge with fierce conviction — the conviction of a boy with conviction.

It was funny, of course, watching a child shove, kick, and punch his way to no

progress, but then it got a little worrisome. Billy didn’t stop. He just kept trying. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. His parents, who had initially encouraged him, found they had made a grave mistake. This was permanent. To Billy, the wall was but a conquerable obstacle.

Years went by. At age 16, when all the effort materialized physiologically, Billy

even made a chip in the wall. Or more of a blemish. Well, a dent. We’ll say it was a dent.

That’s when the town really took notice. It was a pretty big dent; could he possibly do this we wondered? There were more skeptics than supporters, but those of us who were behind him were loyal fans. Billy wasn’t going to let up and neither were we. I even thought of joining him, but these were childish dreams and I had to be an adult by then.

More dents and cracks appeared over the years. As time wore on we

realised that’s all that would be. Billy got scratched up, pretty bad actually, but he remained freakishly unperturbed. He just kept going. All his life he swore to us, as long as it takes, he’d break through the wall.

The look in his eyes; there was something riveting about it. The manner in which he carried himself before each heave or jolt towards the wall. He would careen into the mortar and be sent flying back, for he catapulted himself with such force sometimes. And when he lay there on the ground, sometimes for hours until coming to, he simply digested the defeat — really soaked it in— and grinned. Then he regrouped and continued on. “No one ever said this would be easy,” Billy always bellowed. And he was right, technically, because no one even thought it was possible either.

No matter how hard he fell, Billy forced himself back up out of the dirt and prepared for another go. He learned from his losses. Rejection was his fuel.

Billy never married, never had a family, never did more than try to break through the wall. Whenever someone got close to him, they soon learned that the wall came first. Billy never had a normal life because breaking through the wall was his life, but then, I suppose, that was his normal, so who am I to judge? Billy had a passion and that’s more than I can say for myself.

Ultimately Billy withered and was reduced to head butting the wall. I’d say he

was going down fighting, but he didn’t see it as going down at all. Billy was sure he would make it through. Like his arms and legs, and toes, and knuckles were bludgeoned and bloodied, so too now was his balding head, red sponging up from the base of his remaining grey hairs each time he made another attempt. Still he did not cease. I was dead by then.

Many great people have achieved their goals late in life. Billy put in the time he knew he had to, because he knew this to be true. Finally, one day, when Billy was nearing sixty, it happened.

Billy had given himself a long running start, longer than before. “This,” he cried out, though few were watching anymore, “ this is going to be it!” And the few people who were there that day, who knew about Billy only as a lost dreamer, gave him the time of day he had not gotten since he was a young man.

And Billy charged with such force that the spectators felt a gust of wind pass them as he did. His legs were pushing harder than any old man’s legs should push. All of those years, attempt after attempt and the memories along with them, they were all powering the locomotive headed straight for the wall! And you could see it in Billy’s eyes as he moved, that even if this colossal effort didn’t pay off, he would be right back at it again when he awoke from the concussion that was surely to befall him. He was only a few paces away when he crooked his body into ramming position and he let out a wail, or rather a call of victory.

THWACK! Then stunned silence. After all those years Billy had finally done it.

Billy had broken through the wall, out of his prison of passion, to the joy beyond it. He burst through his obstacles at ripe old age, but for him it was worth the wait. He knew he’d make it to the other side all along. The feeling of calm serenity rushed in his brain like raw, flowing honey.

Meanwhile we were left to peer down from the bloodied bricks, still intact, and watch as all of Billy’s thoughts and dreams for life beyond the wall tumbled out of his skull, none of us knowing what to make of any of them.