About Professor Evans
There is a girl that sits quietly at home; Head in the clouds, a pen resting in her fingers, a binder full of writing, scribbles, and symbols resting in her lap. Her face is pointed to the window, looking out but not looking at the same time. Her eyes are glazed over as she looks to the moon. The house echoes in silence, worried that one sound will shatter the moment. The tip of her pen moves gracefully across the blank sheet of paper, creating words but the pen stops for a moment and moves down to the bottom of the page. The pen moves in its dance again, forming symbols of a language that few seem to know.
This girl dreams of blue boxes and faraway lands, of a talking bear and magical woods, of beautiful gowns and formal waltzes, Goddess and kingdoms, castles and powers.
She dreams of a different life, she was never meant for normal. Myths and Legends fascinate her and she dreams of being in them. The known History and the uncertain Future she wishes she could visit.
She wishes she could say that she met Queen Lizzie the First and ran upon the apple grass of New New York. She wishes she could dance among stars and see the beauty of it all, hear the first words of a newly born star or hear that last wishes of a dying one.
Some nights the binder lays forgotten and the girl runs around the house dress up in items she has bought over the years. She wears a blue ball gown and pretends to be waltzing with her own Prince Charming. She wears a beige trench coat, wields a sonic screwdriver and calls herself the Doctor. She wears her medieval gown and black cloak, a gold crown upon her head and calls herself the Queen of Avalon.
She knows that Avalon never had a Queen but these are her dreams, so screw.
She thinks about red grass, silver tress, twin suns, and snowcapped mountains. She rips apart the plot and makes it her own. She recreates stories and adds herself in, she makes up her own and she has a blast.
She dreams of a castle with never ending gardens full of all types of flowers, a deep wood gazebo with a swing covered in vines, and a waterfall hidden in the forest. Her own story comes to life.
Sometimes her stories are rolled into one; she is an Avalonian Queen with two hearts that met her true love, a time-lord from Gallifrey. She raises her time-tots in the way of both her homes. The beautiful castle of Avalon that sits on the land in between the Mortal and Eternal Realms, and the house with acres of red grass and a meadow that sits in the back of the land blooming Gallifreyan flowers different times of the years, and silver tress that line around them. She looks out from the bay window in her home with her family during that brief moment in time where the trees look like they are on fire.
Her brother moves up the stairs and she pretends to be doing nothing, looking for a pen or a lighter but the minute he's gone she back to acting out alone.
She can't stand the weekends, her father is home, and she dreams are put to stand still because she can't make a sound. She is scared that he will awake.
Other nights the binder lays forgotten and the clothes left untouched, no giggling like mad, no having fun. The lights are off, the laptop is shut, and the girl sits in the middle of the room, bathed in moonlight, wrapped in her down-comforter, cradling an old Winnie the Pooh teddy bear, and cries to herself.
She cries because she is as fragile as a piece of glass. She cries because her memories are painful. She cries over the years of her somewhat short life and how she was treated. She cries for her dreams that will never be true. She cries for the normalcy that will never exist in her life because she is too much of a dreamer. She cries over the way her life has turned out. She cries over the things she will never have.
She cries because she is alone and no one shares her dreams with her.
This Girl is Professor Evans