THE NEW DOCTOR WHO ADVENTURES:
FOOTPRINTS MADE OF CONCRETE
WRITTEN BY ZARIUS
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by the BBC. All rights reserved. This is for non-profit
CHAPTER ONE
Draped in a slick and short yellow dress and sandals, Kristine looked out at the clean brisk peak of the hill and observed the sea, the rich salty aura wrapped itself enticed her.
Kristine slipped her sandals off and imprinted her toes over the smooth bladed grass. The colour of glorious emerald splendour. In the morning and afternoon entertained by the best days of the sun, toasty and inviting. At night, as cool as the rims of a security blanket.
A right hand placed itself upon her shoulder and the frame of a tall, slender man in a top hat and flowing red cape, a walking stick clutched tightly in his left hand, he would also look upon the sea, yet to teem with people, yet to teem with life.
"It's ready" Kristine said, "The landscape is yours"
"What do you remember of this?" asked the man, "This event I mean...though I should caution you, memories can be delicate strings, so easy to cut off, but you can always trace it back, if you try hard, if you work hard, if you feel the need to impress...do you feel the need Kristine Rimmer? Do you want to impress me?"
Kristine closed her eyes, she struggled, she strained, she tried to open her mind that far back. She would succeed.
"I recall my best friend and I skipped school, the summer of all our years to come...can't recall what year that was, you never remember the exact instant you became an adult, ready to embrace the different sort of world. We loved playing truant, we loved leading a rebellion, we always imagined more would join in, but you know how it is. Most children want to play follow the leader. You know that above all else"
"You didn't follow., that's why you remained. Remained with me. For all your days...'till now" the man replied, patting her on the shoulder with his free hand. His cold icy facial demeanour gradually turning slightly red as the sun continued to rise in the infancy of the 6: 25 AM morning summer sky.
"I wish my friend had stayed, he dyed his hair white that day, it was such a striking visual, he'd have been illuminating, he was like a snowman. It was nerves that took him in the end, he proved himself an eager student, and an eagerness to learn was what drove him back to school, to remain a pet, to remain in the educational igloo. My snowman"
She peered out at the beach below, her eyes fixating on a particular spot in the dead centre of the landscape.
"are you going to put it on display in the same spot? Oh please do"
"I was thinking we should have breakfast first" the man replied, licking his lips
"No. No more breakfast for me. Now is the time for your supper. Then time for rest. One after the other"
"You've had enough" the man said
Kristine gave him a look that confirmed her feelings without an exact need for elaboration.
"Thank you. I figured there was a reason why you chose to come back here on your 18th. I did advise you years ago to pick a number close to the end"
"What will happen to the world I'm leaving behind? Will it go on?" Kristine asked anxiously.
"That is the purpose of the show my child, that is why there is a Punch to Judy. There must always be a flock, and one who refuses to follow, the one that refuses to follow establishes the rules. Your predecessor picked the location, the one before that informed me of what exactly the reward would be, and now you have picked the age. The age to end all ages, and to begin anew. The show is ongoing, it evolves, just as easily as it devours"
A slightly more plumb man walked up to the pair of them, holding on to two small felt hand puppets
"They're ready" he said
The man in the top hat turned and held out his hands, the plump man nervously attached the back of the felt puppet to his hand, the man graciously handed Kristine his walking stick and allowed the chubby assistant to attach another of the hand puppets to his free hand.
"They fit perfectly" said the man, "Let the show commence"
"They'll find out if we let her go. You know they will. Her parents never stopped asking questions. They knew it was us who had her" the obese man said with raw nerve in his voice, "The show should not be cast in the negative light"
"But the negative light is perfect. It is what gets everyone talking"
"Kristine's jumped" the obese man noted.
The man turned around to find a vacant spot on the hill, he looked down to see Kristine holding onto a small branch hanging over the cliff, her feet dangling and dancing in the free clear air, the solid and hard hitting sands were below, and they did not provide a most assured and comfortable landing.
"Please, lift me up, I've changed my mind" she said, the tears streaming down her face as pure realization and fright washed over her.
"Again with your mind. Again. And again" the man exclaimed, his tone increasing in frustration, "These thoughts you had all morning were meant to be your supper. Your last supper. And you throw it away"
"Please, I was right, I've had enough...of this. I want to go home now. I want to run away, like my friend, like Billy Kettleworth. I want to enjoy the show"
"She remembers his name. Sir, we can't keep her now, she's all...nostalgic" the plump man said.
"16 was not the right age then. 16 is the age of adults, making adult choices, this is where they bloom and flourish, this is when they see the future is bright. This is not where we need to be. Those who do not enjoy the show, those who cast it in the negative light, they are perfect challengers
"Please pick me up" she said
The man sighed and bent over, he reached out his hand, Kristine took it. He pulled her up. She clutched onto him
"I dropped your cane" she said
"You're lucky I still have the heart and the soul, the conscience and the will. I have not broken, the show is not over"
He looked out over the beach, the wind picked up, the sun didn't seem so hot.
"This is home to you. Find it. If you see the show, run away, tell your children to run away, if they enjoy the show, if their minds are taken in by simple things, I will refuse to acknowledge you"
"The simple things in life is all I want. No complications. Not anymore. That's what I saw in your show the first time, that's why I hated it, and why I didn't turn from it. I didn't want to be a sheep, I wanted to understand why you made THIS so damp and so tired and...and...where has my head been? What happened to me...I...I want go home. I can go home now. I know I can go home now"
"She's forgetting. First she was accepting, then came the regretting, now she's forgetting and now longing. It took her the longest out of all of them sir. All she is now is a footprint. Footprint eighteen. And it's going to clear in a span of just seconds, such a short number compared to the years we spent with her...so sad" the obese man commented. His master stroked his chin delicately, kissed the girl on the hand, rubbed his felt puppet across her silk blonde hair, and shoved her into his associate's arms.
"Walk her over to the dock and leave her there. Someone will notice her. Someone noble. Someone not like us. She needs that now. Chaos is no longer for tea. She belongs to a less unique age now"
As they walked away, the man stared into the sun as the wind howled and spits of rain began dancing across his features. This was not ideal weather. He would wait until the conditions were right.
That occurred an hour or so later, when the warm weather resumed and people began to pour in. School holidays had started, the timing was ripe.
The children were assembled, huddled together, picking their noses, boys were picking their noses and pulling the flowing hair of the girls next to them, some were fighting, some were kissing.
They huddled around a box, a box assembled earlier in the day, a box with colourful markings, that of striped red and white, it looked inviting, like a house of raw candy. Two puppets emerged from the waist up within the centre of the box. A Punch and a Judy.
The children were already bored. They had danced this dance before.
But then came something different. A question not one of the young souls that had gathered expected of the strange little at-odds couple of old.
"Tell me Judy, what age do you want to show me?"
Judy stroked her chin and turned to the audience
"Well kids, what do you think? What age should I show him?"
She peered down and examined the children, a small infra-red scanner embedded in her eyes, she caught sight of a girl who looked slightly older than most of the crop there, someone with her arms folded, her features frosty, her eyebrows crooked.
"What age are you young lass?" said Judy in a pseudo-Scottish accent.
"I'm thirteen years of age and this show stinks" the girl replied.
Beneath Judy's robes, the man who operated both puppets grinned from ear to ear.
"Not everything in life is ever explained" he thought, "As we indulge in our concerns, we are quick to temper and quick to judge. Sometimes, MOST times, it is born of a need to command attention, always eager to remain more than just a footprint, the idea of hate, the notion of a voice ripe with counter-culture and disdain, imposes itself so carefully on the fragile young psyche. The beach is never made of concrete, but the footprints, the ones that matter most, the ones that matter in the mind, they can motivate a lifetime of desires and dreams. You just need to catch them.
Catch them at their youngest.
Sixteen was the commencement of a different age. That mistake shall now be forgotten
Now I have caught someone at the age of commencement.
And I will mould her into a footprint made of concrete.
And all of her kind that I encounter.
God bless.