AN: I've always wanted to write this. It's how I imagined Clara would act at her mum's grave in that scene from Rings of Akaten. So please read and review. Enjoy the story.
A short teenage girl with shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a red coat that looked slightly too big for her stood hand in hand with a man with brown hair that was tinted gray near the roots, who could only be her father. The two people were standing on the grass in front of a gravestone with yellow flowers perched on it, which read Ellie Oswald Beloved Wife and Mother, Born September 11 1960, Died March 5 2005. The girl, whose name was Clara Oswald, was obviously heartbroken, her wide eyes struggling to hold back the tears that were trying to break through, her cheeks and nose red from the cool spring breeze. In her arms lay a book entitled 101 Places to See. The spine of the book was well worn, as if it was read many times by its owner.
The man, named Dave Oswald, was heartbroken also, however his cheeks were already tear-stained and his eyes red and slightly swollen. His eyes flickered from place to place, but always ended up on the exact same spot no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. Ellie Oswald… Wife…. Died… He looked as if he was trying to stay strong for his daughter, but in reality it was quite the opposite. The girl had not shed a single tear since they went to the graveyard and comforted her father when he cried. The man croaked out, "I'll wait for you in the car. It's just down the street."
The girl seemed to barely register what her father had said. She only nodded, her eyes never flickering for a moment off of the gravestone, as if she were afraid someone would come and try to rip it out of the ground. Her father started to walk away, only to stop a short distance away from the car to glance back at Clara before disappearing from her sight. The moment Clara could no longer see her father out of the corner of her eyes, she broke. Her heart split in two. No. It seemed to split into a thousand pieces, like shards of broken glass that made her flinch every time she took a breath. She opened the book and glanced down at the first page of the book, a crimson red leaf, and a crack was forming in the dam she had built so well. The next page contained her name in wobbly writing as if written by a five year old and her age increasing with every line. The crack was larger now, making the dam so fragile it could break at any moment. The last page she looked at had a name written on it. The name of her mother.
The dam broke, at first only a single tear was shed, splashing on her mother's name, smudging the ink as if it had just been written. The book fell to the ground and so did Clara. She fell on her knees, her head in her hands, the tears falling onto the ground making the grass wet as if it was early in the morning and the dew was still on the grass. She sobbed and she sobbed and she sobbed, but she never made a single sound. Her shoulders shook silently no matter how violent she cried, not a single peep escaped her lips. She was still crying as she reached out toward the gravestone, her fingers brushed against her mum's name carved into the stone. When her fingers reached the last letter of the name, she tore her hand away from the grave. At last words came out of her mouth.
"How could you die mum?" Clara whispered. "How could you die?" she repeated louder this time. "You… You promised you would never leave me. YOU PROMISED!" She screamed, her voice cracking with agony. "I always stayed by your side and YOU LEFT ME." She stopped screaming but she didn't stop crying. The loud, heart wrenching sobs reflected her screaming in a way words couldn't describe. If the sobs were heard, they would most likely break the heart of anyone listening just like her heart had been broken. It was obvious that she cared about her mom deeply, and it was an understatement to believe that her mom was the most important person in her life; the person she cared about the most.
The look of sadness, anger, resentment, and fear did not suit the girl. She seemed like the type of girl that didn't believe that something was impossible. The type of person who could live on a dollar a day and still be happy. However this was not how the girl looked today. Right now, Clara looked like someone who would cry over the loss of a penny. Her eyes widened, not out of shock or excitement, but out of realization. The realization that her mother had truly left her. Left her forever. And, the realization that she could not waste away her days mourning the person closest to her. She had to heal the wound the death had left with her. The pain could no longer be the sting of a fresh cut but the dull pain of a scar, always staying with her. She could never forget her mother, not ever, but life always has to move forward.
With tears blurring her vision she started to walk away from her mother's grave. Hiding behind a tree was a gangly man with floppy hair, an old fashioned purple tweed jacket, and a violet coloured bowtie. The man had been watching her from the beginning with a look of curiosity in his eyes, as if pondering on her very existence. Clara seemed to make direct eye contact with the man for just a second before he shied away from her sight. Little did she know that this tall, gangly man would become her best friend in the universe. He would fill the spot that her mother had previously occupied. The girl let out a faint whisper, "I love you mum," which could only be heard for a single moment in all of time and space before the words were carried away with the breeze.