The Hymm Of Castrovalva
Here's a short drabble, set during Castrovalva. Enjoy, and reviews are welcome, as always!
I fall asleep.
And then I wake up. I see myself destroying an entire ancient race of lizard creatures, because of my desire to protect the people I love. The Doctor cries out at me, full of anger and grief, and at once he sees-no, I see the entire history of the lizard's future extinguished at that moment. The lizard creatures will survive, but they will never become glorious again. All because of one measly human, who's one life could never equal the future of an entire race. He will never understand. He is my friend, so I forgive him.
I wake up again. I see a horror. A metal creature, born in pain, rends a man's flesh away in a bright light. The Doctor tries to help me, but cannot. This will not be the first time he has seen death. Sarah looks at him, and cries her heart out, but only inside. Later on, she will urge the Doctor to kill these creatures. I will say I don't have the right. To this day, I still wonder whether that was me pushing off the responsibility.
I wake up again. A monk is trying to sell me on why I should change the world. All I need to do is destroy this web of time. That spider web that traps us all, and lets innocents be rendered to pieces in what we later call tragedies after the fact. The Time Lords are the spiders, weaving the web. The Doctor doesn't think he's a spider, but he is.
Sometimes he forgets why he does what he does. In his darkest days, when a Kingdom falls away into dust for no reason, sometimes he wants to break the thread.
Why do I go on?
I wake up again. An image passes before my eyes. It sounds like a rip through time and space and my mind. It is a mural, showing images with the clarity only dreams can: soldiers having a party at the end of a good day's work, a group of young blond people (Thals was their name), two schoolteachers telling their children of wonderful adventures ; a journalist battling the pathetic limits in her field caused by her XX chromosomes, knowing she's faced more than any of these men ever will; a princess, mourning her father, but still doing what needs to be done; I even see that imbecile, who has never been the same (He's still an imbecile, though). I see an alien, doing the best he can to do good in the universe.
I wake up. A woman looks at me, surprised. I yawn, not because I need to, but because it makes her more comfortable.
“ Nyssa, lovely morning,” I say, with a happiness that is not feigned.
I've finally found the Doctor.
I fall asleep.
And then I wake up. I see myself destroying an entire ancient race of lizard creatures, because of my desire to protect the people I love. The Doctor cries out at me, full of anger and grief, and at once he sees-no, I see the entire history of the lizard's future extinguished at that moment. The lizard creatures will survive, but they will never become glorious again. All because of one measly human, who's one life could never equal the future of an entire race. He will never understand. He is my friend, so I forgive him.
I wake up again. I see a horror. A metal creature, born in pain, rends a man's flesh away in a bright light. The Doctor tries to help me, but cannot. This will not be the first time he has seen death. Sarah looks at him, and cries her heart out, but only inside. Later on, she will urge the Doctor to kill these creatures. I will say I don't have the right. To this day, I still wonder whether that was me pushing off the responsibility.
I wake up again. A monk is trying to sell me on why I should change the world. All I need to do is destroy this web of time. That spider web that traps us all, and lets innocents be rendered to pieces in what we later call tragedies after the fact. The Time Lords are the spiders, weaving the web. The Doctor doesn't think he's a spider, but he is.
Sometimes he forgets why he does what he does. In his darkest days, when a Kingdom falls away into dust for no reason, sometimes he wants to break the thread.
Why do I go on?
I wake up again. An image passes before my eyes. It sounds like a rip through time and space and my mind. It is a mural, showing images with the clarity only dreams can: soldiers having a party at the end of a good day's work, a group of young blond people (Thals was their name), two schoolteachers telling their children of wonderful adventures ; a journalist battling the pathetic limits in her field caused by her XX chromosomes, knowing she's faced more than any of these men ever will; a princess, mourning her father, but still doing what needs to be done; I even see that imbecile, who has never been the same (He's still an imbecile, though). I see an alien, doing the best he can to do good in the universe.
I wake up. A woman looks at me, surprised. I yawn, not because I need to, but because it makes her more comfortable.
“ Nyssa, lovely morning,” I say, with a happiness that is not feigned.
I've finally found the Doctor.