Call for info from Uni friends and a Dr Who Fic.
First a quick heads up to those I know in RL.
Guys, I should be coming back on Saturday. Could you tell me if the water crisis is over yet so I can some clean water in? Cheers. See you soon.
Now, here’s a little fic I typed out tonight. It’s just over Drabble sized really. Kinda dark, dunno where it came from except I’ve been wondering how, exactly Doctor no 8 died. This is the idea I came up with, though again it’s rather dark. Let me know what you think, it’s my first Who fic and may well be my last.
(Not cut ‘cos it’s so short and fairly harmless. Only those who haven’t seen the new series AT ALL may want to ignore it.)
Casualties of War
There were many casualties in the Time War.
Millions, billions, numbers beyond counting or conception, their faces remained with him, rotting in his memory.
Love lost he tried hatred. But the Daleks were another casualty.
So he hated the only one left to hate, hurt the only one left to hurt, uselessly flailing against mirrors, screaming at walls.
This being an exercise in futility he did the only thing he could.
The noose fit better than an albatross around his neck, and he found the weight of his body lighter than that of his soul.
There were many casualties of the Time War.
He was one of them.
When he awoke, stiff and sore, he staggered to the nearest mirror.
He did not recognise the face reflected in it.
He felt better.
Guys, I should be coming back on Saturday. Could you tell me if the water crisis is over yet so I can some clean water in? Cheers. See you soon.
Now, here’s a little fic I typed out tonight. It’s just over Drabble sized really. Kinda dark, dunno where it came from except I’ve been wondering how, exactly Doctor no 8 died. This is the idea I came up with, though again it’s rather dark. Let me know what you think, it’s my first Who fic and may well be my last.
(Not cut ‘cos it’s so short and fairly harmless. Only those who haven’t seen the new series AT ALL may want to ignore it.)
Casualties of War
There were many casualties in the Time War.
Millions, billions, numbers beyond counting or conception, their faces remained with him, rotting in his memory.
Love lost he tried hatred. But the Daleks were another casualty.
So he hated the only one left to hate, hurt the only one left to hurt, uselessly flailing against mirrors, screaming at walls.
This being an exercise in futility he did the only thing he could.
The noose fit better than an albatross around his neck, and he found the weight of his body lighter than that of his soul.
There were many casualties of the Time War.
He was one of them.
When he awoke, stiff and sore, he staggered to the nearest mirror.
He did not recognise the face reflected in it.
He felt better.