The ticks of clocks. Never stoping or slowing down. Always the same: tick tock tick tock. Even if all the clocks were destroyed it would still be there, time. It happens every minute, every second, every moment. It's funny, you don't think about your world until it comes crashing down around you. You don't think of the clocks constant ticking till its too late. That those ticks can fast forward, rewind, or even stop. But hey, every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. Except not always in that order.
It was early December when we found it. With it's square shape and high roof. Its smooth blue wooden door. When my parents saw it they said it was perfect, but me, I just looked at the rickety house, and didn't say a word. I never do. Never talk unless necessary, but of course they don't listen either way.
Moving into a new house is easy when your younger, when you don't understand the friends your about to lose. When your seventeen its harder. To walk away from all your friends and say, "I'm never seeing you again, bye." Of course this is how it would be if I had any friends. So I suppose no one will notice I'm gone. But, if someone could listen just once when I'm not speaking, I might just be able to open up.
My room was on the top floor of the three story house, well two floors plus one attic. There was no wallpaper, no painted walls, just wood. It was all wood, with a slanted wood roof on either side that led to a wooden point. I would start school again at the end of December, not that I wanted to.
_ in the winter is cold. If you step outside, a blast of cold air will hit your face, along with tiny pieces of ice that stick to your skin.
One week after we had moved in, the blizzard started. Suddenly one morning snow and ice was flying everywhere, smacking the glass windows with tiny clinks. Each night when the wind picked up the old house groaned around us till the morning came.
When it subsided for a day I took a walk, before it started again. That was the day my life changed forever. That was the day I met him.
You look at your life. You think its simple, normal. But if you take a moment, a breath, and look deeper, you come to realize how horridly dull it all is. That nothing ever happens, that the only seemingly interesting thing is your next school assignment. You find that each week is the same routine over and over: when you wake up, go to school, watch your favorite Tele show each day. You think there must be something else out there, real life can't be this dull and meaningless. So you bury yourself in books, in movies that show a better life, a more interesting one. A lie. You want to believe it gets better, that it gets easier, but inside you know it doesn't. Inside you know there is always going to be that same thing nagging at you: what you could've done.
The walk to the store was cold. Even with almost five lyres on my thin skin, and a scarf warped above my nose. My grey hat was pulled down over my ears, and my jacket hood over that.
Snow crunched under my boots, and gentle snow flakes landed on my cheeks. The store wasn't that far away, but in the cold everything seams to slow down. Not in a fluid way, but as in its all moving staccato; like a rusted wheel.
A bright blue caught my eye. A color that wouldn't appear in the middle of dull winter. I turned on my toes and walked over to the blue peeking through a pile of white snow. I reached up and wiped off the cold crispy snow with a gloved hand. I kept working and scratching away the ice, until sitting in front of me was a blue Police Phone Box. I sat there puzzling over this. I was almost completely sure that this had not been here before, and the that the nineteen-sixties had defiantly ended a while ago. I jumped back awkwardly as the doors to the blue box opened and a man burst out. I started to walk away, best not to talk to strangers in a town you hardly know yet.
"Io! Where are you going," came a voice behind me. I stopped, "No one touches my TARDIS and then strolls away."
"Your what?" I asked but he didn't seam to hear me.
"What are you doing?" he asked
"Walking. What does it look like?" I answered, "Who are you anyway?"
"The important question here is who were you? Or rather who are you?"
"I'm Willow Brown," I said exasperated.
"I'm The Doctor," He said not paying me any attention now, he had squatted down on the floor and was poking the snow with one finger, "What time is it?
"Time to get a watch," I mumbled to myself.
"No, I already have one!" he answered cheerfully showing me his wrist. He looked down at it. This hesitation gave me time to see him clearly: he wore black pants and shoes, a maroon bow-tie wrapped around his dress shirt, I saw the edge of his red suspenders, behind a brown tweed jacket. He looked up and the smile melted off his face, "Anyway," he said quickly, "I'm sorry I held you up," He started pushing me the way I had come, "But you should get going."
"Actually," I said holding up one finger and starting to turn around. "I–" a snowball met me in the face so I could't see a thing. While I was fussing with my handkerchief I heard a sonic like sound coming from a few feet in front of me. When I finally cleared the snow off my face 'The Doctor' had something behind his back.
"What was that for?" I asked.
He attempted to change the subject, "So, your Willow Brown?"
"Yes?"
"And the date is..." He looked at his watch which apparently could tell the date and time, "...2012."
"Are you like the mad hatter or something with that watch?" I asked.
"Mad. Yes," he answered, "Hat." He reached up to his head, "No. Actually at one point–" before he could finnish a bright green blur jumped out from behind him.