Post by Dominic Smith on Feb 11, 2006 15:13:51 GMT -5
I wrote this a while ago, around August last year. Hope you enjoy it.
Forgotten Memories
by Dominic Smith
His head was buzzing with beams of light that seemed to stretch on forever. The darkness faded slowly as his eyes opened and a blurry mess of dull colours and shapes took form before him. The beams of light formed into light bulbs that meandered off away from where he was laying. His mind could only strain to tell him one thing before reverting to a state of haziness…it was over.
He managed to stumble to his feet, grabbing onto what appeared to be a cardboard box full of some kind of fabricated material for support. He slurred out an irrelevant comment for nobody to hear, something along the lines of “Where am I?” Yet before he could say anymore to the constantly refocusing shadows that surrounded him both in the surrounding area and in the clouds of his mind, he realised.
As his vision sharpened, he looked around at the dim grey dirtied walls, the large red and yellow pipes running off to places unknown, and the transport trolleys filled with more pilled up boxes that littered the long corridor, the far end of which still remained in a pool of uncertainty. As he strained to see he could have sworn he noticed a figure moving about. A scream ringed out in his head, or was it from the figure? He still couldn’t be certain.
His thoughts and memories were beginning to come clearer, and when he managed to tap into his vast mess of mis-placed knowledge, a maze of words and pictures, facts and figures and knowledge so macabre even he could not begin to deceipher, he could finally begin to piece together what had happened…
He had landed nearby on a street corner, probably some half a mile away from where he was now. In the darkness of night, and hidden from the eye of the busy human bodies who swarmed the cluttered streets by his hurriedly-prepared undercover outfit of 21st Century Earth clothes, he had followed the directions given to him by the small navigation-scanning device he held tightly in his hand. The only light around him came from the small screen before him, and the street lamps above him, which flickered with age. The device became hot and uncomfortable to hold, and was soon exiled to the realms of his jacket pocket. These new clothes felt so odd, so alien; not at all what he was used to. His own frock coat lay on the floor of his wardrobe, soon to be forgotten. The wardrobe’s location was still a bit of a mystery, but he was sure the connection had something to do with a ship of some sorts.
After some twenty minutes of brisk walking, and several unsuccessful detours through the menacing back streets, he had found himself outside a large department store, although it’s name escaped him. He had walked confidently inside and had headed for the lift, making his way down to the basement, but unbeknown to him, they were waiting.
*****
The menacing, expressionless figures stood at the door of the lift. They watched in vigil as the one they were awaiting made his way down. Their minds dare not wonder as their master recounted their orders to them. His drastic pleas came to them in screams of pain. He was dying. And his murderer was about to arrive. As the doors of the small capsule began to slowly open, they raised their arms and prepared to snap their guns into action.
*****
As the image of the deadly dummies was revealed to the inside of the lift, his hearts had lurched. He had acted on a gut instinct that appeared to have been uncharacteristic of his usual calm manner and barged past them, running full pelt down the nearest corridor, but his troubles were far from over.
Another hoard of dummies were waiting for him at the other end, slowly making their way forwards. He had turned to leave but the first group who had awaited his arrival at the lift were closing in. He backed up against the wall as the menacing figures fully surrounded him, too many to escape from this time. As he realised his time was well and truly up, the dummies closed in even further but then they did something rather extraordinary, they stopped.
Stunned at his turn of luck, but still petrified of the situation he had gotten himself into, he had begun to slowly edge away from the wall, craning his neck to check all of the dummies had indeed come to a halt.
His hands were shaking, sweat was streaming down his forehead, and his breathing was getting heavier, each draw of breath became more of a challenge, and his body began to slowly creep away from his unwanted guard of honour.
Suddenly, one of the dummies sprung back to life, and pinned him back up against the wall by the neck. The others began to reanimate, and as their arms raised and hands snapped open to reveal their guns, the first dummy slowly relinquished his grip and followed suit…
The blast echoed around the corridor, but the burst of gunfire and blood-curdling scream had travelled little further than that. The Autons began to move slowly away, ignoring the lifeless body sprawled across the floor before them. If they had stayed perhaps they would have realised exactly who their victim was, a figure they had met so many times before, but their master was calling to them, calling for help. As they stalked off, a bright light began to emanate from the body’s pale face, and his features began to change. His hair shrunk back to a much shorter length. His face became harder, more aged and worn. His muscles strengthened and his physique differed beyond recognition. Yet it was not only his body that was affected by the change. His mind began to be reborn. His memories were filed away to some uncharted dimension of his conscious and after so much running around his latest adventures finally began to take their toll. The sounds of battle screamed through his head, and emotions of every kind began to implode throughout his brain. His mind aged, became withered and depleted. Yet at the same time a new purpose, a new freedom came to light and was born deep down inside his brain. He had a yearning for adventure, adventure that wasn’t so emotionally torturing as of late, a sensational vibrate cheer that was cultivating itself deep deep down. But it would have to wait
And now here he was, the last Time Lord, alone in a corridor with no idea what he looked like, his mind still buzzing, and his body slowly regaining energy. Despite not wanting to upset his already turbulent metabolism, he decided he had to go on, in the direction of the figure he was sure he had seen when he first awoke. The clearest navigation in his mind was that he had to destroy the signal relay he had been tracing and rid himself of his ever-menacing demons, finish this madness that had seemed to last an eternity forever. His navigation-scanning device (which had dropped out of his pocket and skid under one of the transport trolleys) showed him that it had recently been moved from the basement to the roof, supposedly to prevent detection. Their plan, he decided, was going to fail. He would succeed. That taste for adventure was growing.
Walking back towards the lift, he noticed a lifeless hand extending from beneath a pile of empty boxes. He pulled the rather crude cover up out of the way, and revealed the horror it had shielded. A vastly mutated body, blasted to pieces. He could just make out a nametag: Derek Wilson, Chief Engineer. This must have been the shadowed figure he couldn’t quite focus upon. Another innocent bystander, another victim of the Autons.
As he pulled himself together, tearing his eyes away from the monstrous sight, he tried to focus on the task in hand, his mission from the Time Lords. Romana had told him to get the Nestenes away from the Earth at whatever cost, and quite a lot had been sacrificed already. Of course she was not around to see if he would succeed anymore, the Daleks had seen to that shortly after he left, but orders were orders, even to him under the given circumstances. This was his last challenge, get rid of the last threat the war had spawned. And then…a fresh start.
The quiet was broken by the muffled voice of a young girl. She sounded as if she was in trouble. He shook away the last few darkened memories, his eyes narrowed and he looked back at the body one more time. This was it. This was his chance to end the Time War, and save the Earth. His planet was gone, his people no more, but he remained. He was the Doctor. And he had the rest of his lives ahead of him.
© Dominic Smith 2005
Thanks, Dominic
Forgotten Memories
by Dominic Smith
His head was buzzing with beams of light that seemed to stretch on forever. The darkness faded slowly as his eyes opened and a blurry mess of dull colours and shapes took form before him. The beams of light formed into light bulbs that meandered off away from where he was laying. His mind could only strain to tell him one thing before reverting to a state of haziness…it was over.
He managed to stumble to his feet, grabbing onto what appeared to be a cardboard box full of some kind of fabricated material for support. He slurred out an irrelevant comment for nobody to hear, something along the lines of “Where am I?” Yet before he could say anymore to the constantly refocusing shadows that surrounded him both in the surrounding area and in the clouds of his mind, he realised.
As his vision sharpened, he looked around at the dim grey dirtied walls, the large red and yellow pipes running off to places unknown, and the transport trolleys filled with more pilled up boxes that littered the long corridor, the far end of which still remained in a pool of uncertainty. As he strained to see he could have sworn he noticed a figure moving about. A scream ringed out in his head, or was it from the figure? He still couldn’t be certain.
His thoughts and memories were beginning to come clearer, and when he managed to tap into his vast mess of mis-placed knowledge, a maze of words and pictures, facts and figures and knowledge so macabre even he could not begin to deceipher, he could finally begin to piece together what had happened…
He had landed nearby on a street corner, probably some half a mile away from where he was now. In the darkness of night, and hidden from the eye of the busy human bodies who swarmed the cluttered streets by his hurriedly-prepared undercover outfit of 21st Century Earth clothes, he had followed the directions given to him by the small navigation-scanning device he held tightly in his hand. The only light around him came from the small screen before him, and the street lamps above him, which flickered with age. The device became hot and uncomfortable to hold, and was soon exiled to the realms of his jacket pocket. These new clothes felt so odd, so alien; not at all what he was used to. His own frock coat lay on the floor of his wardrobe, soon to be forgotten. The wardrobe’s location was still a bit of a mystery, but he was sure the connection had something to do with a ship of some sorts.
After some twenty minutes of brisk walking, and several unsuccessful detours through the menacing back streets, he had found himself outside a large department store, although it’s name escaped him. He had walked confidently inside and had headed for the lift, making his way down to the basement, but unbeknown to him, they were waiting.
*****
The menacing, expressionless figures stood at the door of the lift. They watched in vigil as the one they were awaiting made his way down. Their minds dare not wonder as their master recounted their orders to them. His drastic pleas came to them in screams of pain. He was dying. And his murderer was about to arrive. As the doors of the small capsule began to slowly open, they raised their arms and prepared to snap their guns into action.
*****
As the image of the deadly dummies was revealed to the inside of the lift, his hearts had lurched. He had acted on a gut instinct that appeared to have been uncharacteristic of his usual calm manner and barged past them, running full pelt down the nearest corridor, but his troubles were far from over.
Another hoard of dummies were waiting for him at the other end, slowly making their way forwards. He had turned to leave but the first group who had awaited his arrival at the lift were closing in. He backed up against the wall as the menacing figures fully surrounded him, too many to escape from this time. As he realised his time was well and truly up, the dummies closed in even further but then they did something rather extraordinary, they stopped.
Stunned at his turn of luck, but still petrified of the situation he had gotten himself into, he had begun to slowly edge away from the wall, craning his neck to check all of the dummies had indeed come to a halt.
His hands were shaking, sweat was streaming down his forehead, and his breathing was getting heavier, each draw of breath became more of a challenge, and his body began to slowly creep away from his unwanted guard of honour.
Suddenly, one of the dummies sprung back to life, and pinned him back up against the wall by the neck. The others began to reanimate, and as their arms raised and hands snapped open to reveal their guns, the first dummy slowly relinquished his grip and followed suit…
The blast echoed around the corridor, but the burst of gunfire and blood-curdling scream had travelled little further than that. The Autons began to move slowly away, ignoring the lifeless body sprawled across the floor before them. If they had stayed perhaps they would have realised exactly who their victim was, a figure they had met so many times before, but their master was calling to them, calling for help. As they stalked off, a bright light began to emanate from the body’s pale face, and his features began to change. His hair shrunk back to a much shorter length. His face became harder, more aged and worn. His muscles strengthened and his physique differed beyond recognition. Yet it was not only his body that was affected by the change. His mind began to be reborn. His memories were filed away to some uncharted dimension of his conscious and after so much running around his latest adventures finally began to take their toll. The sounds of battle screamed through his head, and emotions of every kind began to implode throughout his brain. His mind aged, became withered and depleted. Yet at the same time a new purpose, a new freedom came to light and was born deep down inside his brain. He had a yearning for adventure, adventure that wasn’t so emotionally torturing as of late, a sensational vibrate cheer that was cultivating itself deep deep down. But it would have to wait
And now here he was, the last Time Lord, alone in a corridor with no idea what he looked like, his mind still buzzing, and his body slowly regaining energy. Despite not wanting to upset his already turbulent metabolism, he decided he had to go on, in the direction of the figure he was sure he had seen when he first awoke. The clearest navigation in his mind was that he had to destroy the signal relay he had been tracing and rid himself of his ever-menacing demons, finish this madness that had seemed to last an eternity forever. His navigation-scanning device (which had dropped out of his pocket and skid under one of the transport trolleys) showed him that it had recently been moved from the basement to the roof, supposedly to prevent detection. Their plan, he decided, was going to fail. He would succeed. That taste for adventure was growing.
Walking back towards the lift, he noticed a lifeless hand extending from beneath a pile of empty boxes. He pulled the rather crude cover up out of the way, and revealed the horror it had shielded. A vastly mutated body, blasted to pieces. He could just make out a nametag: Derek Wilson, Chief Engineer. This must have been the shadowed figure he couldn’t quite focus upon. Another innocent bystander, another victim of the Autons.
As he pulled himself together, tearing his eyes away from the monstrous sight, he tried to focus on the task in hand, his mission from the Time Lords. Romana had told him to get the Nestenes away from the Earth at whatever cost, and quite a lot had been sacrificed already. Of course she was not around to see if he would succeed anymore, the Daleks had seen to that shortly after he left, but orders were orders, even to him under the given circumstances. This was his last challenge, get rid of the last threat the war had spawned. And then…a fresh start.
The quiet was broken by the muffled voice of a young girl. She sounded as if she was in trouble. He shook away the last few darkened memories, his eyes narrowed and he looked back at the body one more time. This was it. This was his chance to end the Time War, and save the Earth. His planet was gone, his people no more, but he remained. He was the Doctor. And he had the rest of his lives ahead of him.
© Dominic Smith 2005
Thanks, Dominic