Mackenzie A. Hudson
Due 11/14/11
Wp#11 Sensory Imagery
Intro. To Creative Writing 283.005
Home
Rose woke up to the smell of smoke. Not the bad kind, like "Oh no, the house is on fire, we better get out," but the pleasant, woodsy kind. She lay still in the bed letting herself enjoy the pleasant scent, although there was insistent nagging in the back of her mind telling her something wasn't right. She tried her best to relax and squash the feeling, but it eventually forced her eyes open in annoyance. Suddenly, she was glad the nagging was there, because it was right.
None of her surroundings were familiar.
Where am I? She thought in wonder, taking in all that she could see. Rose was lying in a massive four-poster bed, silken sheets softly flowing over her skin, which she was beginning to realize, was only hidden sparingly by a thin, short, night rail. The comforter was heavy, and the air touching Rose's exposed skin was cold. Rose detected the smell of snow on the air, slightly masked by the pleasant smell of the smoke. The only light in the room came from two candles on a sturdy but elegant wooden bedside table and a roaring fire in the fireplace across the room, which explained the smell of the smoke. If the room is still this cold and dark, Rose reasoned to herself, the fire must have only recently been lit, which means it must be very early in the morning, and it must still be winter. And with that last thought, the nagging in her head finally ceased. She had remembered.
Or perhaps not; it is more that Rose realized she did not know where she was, who she was, or when she was for that matter. All she knew was her name.
Rose finally mustered up her courage and got out of the bed, making a mad dash for one of the chairs in front of the fire. It was much warmer over here, the fire blazing orange and yellow with heat that was slowly starting to fill the room. Rose took in more of her surroundings, trying to keep herself from panicking. The chair was a deep red velvet with simple gold stitching adorning the edges. There were forest green drapes hiding what Rose knew to be windows due to the fact that moonlight was drifting through a set of drapes that hadn't been properly closed. The bed was made of mahogany and the floors were wood, but covered with thick carpets and furs.
Who are you? Her mind insistently asked her. Images flashed through her mind: a blue police call box seemed to be the most prominent of them, although a particularly stunning purple, blue and orange sunset with double suns flickered by, as did a brilliant midnight sky full of stars, and three moons. Three moons… Rose rushed to the window with slightly open drapes and yanked them all the way open to find a sky with only one moon. Earth… whispered through her mind, and relief flooded through her. Home! She thought, a piece of the puzzle suddenly solved. When though? An insistent voice ran through her mind. Rose searched the skies for her answers but the stars told her nothing. Part of her wanted to know why the time was an issue, but a larger part accepted the fact that somehow she'd been to many different eras.
Suddenly, the doors banged open. "Rose!" a man in a suit and large overcoat burst in, followed by a tall burly man in some sort of 18th century garb.
"I told you man, she's asleep and I don't want her disturbed!" The 18th century man roared.
"Well it's a good thing I'm already awake then or I'd be sorely upset at you waking me with your shouting," Rose said serenely from the window.
"Rose!" the man in the suit said excitedly, turning to face her fully for the first time. Suddenly, she recognized him.
"Doctor!" she exclaimed, smiling brilliantly at him and running into his arms to give him a big hug.
"Doctor?" the old fashioned man said, confused. "Doctor Who?"