With the loss of my internet service, I took up writing fan fiction as my main past-time.
My most recent fiction--totally naf tho' they are, (trust me, the BBC will never be ringing me up to write any scripts or books), I did enjoy writing them.
http://www.davidtennantsdoctor.wordpress.com
SAMPLE CHAPTER OF MY MOST RECENT STORY (completed this past weekend):
DOCTOR WHO: RAIN OF TERROR
CHAPTER ONE
Little Mary Perkins kept her face plastered to the window of the lounge. In the background, the television burbled out the drone of voices from some morning talk programme. Through the doorway, Mary could hear her mum clattering dishes in the kitchen. She turned and cast the briefest of glances in that direction. Her mum had promised her that they’d go for a walk to the park, after she’d done the washing up. Sighing, Mary turned back to the window and watched as a trickle of rain ran down the pane of glass. Another chased after it, as if they were racing each other to get to the bottom.
The child sighed again, impatiently stamping one of her blue wellies on the carpet. “Mary, stop that at once!” Her mum shouted. “Making a fuss won’t get you outside any sooner.” She added in a softer tone, “You could always help me with the dishes, sweetheart. That would be much more productive than sulking the morning away, in there.”
The little girl didn’t reply. She looked at the photo of her dad on the fireplace mantle. He’d left home last month, without even saying goodbye to her. She remembered overhearing her mum telling one of the neighbours that he’d said that he didn’t want to deal with family responsibilities, any longer. Mary sometimes wondered whether her mum and dad would still be together, if they would have been happier, if she hadn’t ever been born. After a long silence, her mother asked, “Is it still raining, dear?” But again, her daughter didn’t answer. Finishing up in the kitchen, Mary’s mum never heard the sound of the front door, opening and closing.
Mary had gone back to watching the rain and thinking of her dad, when suddenly a yellow balloon came down from the sky and landed in the little front garden. Well, at least it looked like a balloon. Not bothering to put on her anorak, she went outside to investigate. She walked over to the object, which was lying on the grass. On second look, it seemed less like a balloon and more like a bouncy ball. Like the one she used to bounce in front of her parent’s garage, causing the old lady next door yell at her for making so much noise.
Mary picked the bouncy ball up and hugged it to her chest. It was somewhat soft and translucent, and rather heavy. Just then, it began to slowly pulse with an inner glow, and Mary stiffened. Her head cocked, as if she was listening to someone’s voice. Yet, there was only the sound of the rain, dripping from the eaves and falling on the pavement.
Several minutes passed, but Mary didn’t even seem to notice coldness of the rain, as it plastered her hair, ran down her face and soaked her jumper and jeans. Abruptly, she nodded and said woodenly, “I understand.” With the ball grasped against her diminutive frame, she purposefully walked a short ways down the street, and around the corner. Seconds later, Mary’s mother opened the front door and called out for her daughter. There was no answer.
The Tardis was heading backwards through the time vortex. Inside, the Doctor was leisurely monitoring the controls, grinning with the delight of yet another journey with one of his human friends. In this case, they were headed into the Earth’s not-so-distant past.
On a whim, he’d allowed his latest human companion, Donna, to choose their next destination. The Doctor waited with mild impatience, as she tried to decide. “I have well over a million years to choose from, Doctor. Give me a chance to think about it, yeah?” She’d retorted. The Doctor recommended such events as the signing of the Magna Carta, the opening of the first World’s Fair, or even better, going back to ancient Egypt, to view the building of the Great Pyramid. “You might be in for a few surprises, there.” He said suggestively. Donna shook her head. “Construction? That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?” She replied. “I’m thinking something much more exciting. Like one of those haute couture fashion shows, in nineteen-fifties Paris.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, looking at Donna askance. “A fashion show!” He exclaimed, “All the wonders of Earth’s past, and you want to look at clothing?” Donna nodded, indicating the fifties-style casual attire she’d picked out from the Tardis wardrobe. “What do you think I changed into these togs for?” She said, “A stroll through some drafty, smelly medieval castle? I’m not havin’ that again!” The Doctor suddenly looked a tad contrite. “Erm–yeah, sorry about that. But look on the bright side, those few minutes on the rack did wonders for your back.”
Donna shot him a look that was less than amused, muttering, “I knew I shoulda’ stayed home, that time.” The Doctor gave a deep sigh, looking down at his scruffy white trainers. Then he shrugged good-naturedly. “Oh, alright, Donna, I’ll take you to the…fashion show.” He said, pronouncing those last two words as if they left a sour taste in his mouth. “After all, I did say anywhere you want.” Under his breath he added, “Times like this, I almost miss having Mickey on board.” Donna gave him a look. “What was that?” “Oh, uh–I just was saying that it’s lucky I’m not easily bored.” He said innocently. “Right, then,” the Doctor smiled, “Oleg Casini, here we come.” He confidently flicked a switch, banged something with the hammer, and then the Tardis’ central column lit up and slowly began to rise and fall. The Doctor’s face glowed with delight, as he stood staring lovingly at the machinery, groaning and shuddering into time and space.
The Tardis hadn’t been in flight for more than five minutes, when suddenly, something blew. It sent a shower of sparks cascading around the Doctor. He backed up, coughing and waving away the smoke. “Now what?” Donna shouted. The Doctor frantically waded in, fingers stabbing at the controls with lightning swiftness. He looked mildly disconcerted as two parts of the console broke off. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the pieces lying in the palm of his hand. “Whoops.” He said, mildly disconcerted, “Oh dear, that’s not a good sign, is it?”
Just then, the ship gave a sharp lurch, nearly throwing him into Donna’s arms. “Sorry.” He mumbled, as he sprang towards the console again. The Doctor caused the metal decking to thunder, as he ran around the console in a frenzied state, trying to bring his ship back under control. “What in the blazes is going on?” Donna shouted. “The dimensional stabilizers have failed!” He called out through the smoke, “Something is interfering with the Tardis’ navigational equipment.”
His face a mask of worry, the Doctor spat out, “The stabilization adaptor has short-circuited, the antediluvian torque arrestor is completely off-line, and,–oh no. Look at that. The helmlick regulator has been fried until it’s extra-crispy!” He shook his head and gave a frustrated sigh, “Can’t blame that on Harry, this time.” The Doctor muttered. “Who?” Donna asked. “Old friend of mine, it’s not important.” He said dismissively, glancing at the monitor. Shaking his head even more, he stepped back suddenly and stared at the still-moving central column, for once completely at a loss for words.
The Doctor looked at Donna, seemingly flummoxed. Scrunching up his face, he ran his fingers through his hair, muttering, “It can’t be! It just can’t be!” “What? What is it, Doctor?” Donna asked anxiously. He just shook his head, speechless for a moment. When he finally found the words, he said, “I don’t know how or why Donna, but we’ve been hijacked! We’re being pulled back to your own time period.”
