I do not own Doctor who or any of its characters.
Jacksonran. He ran till he found the old mansion he had been looking for. White, broken, deserted. Perfect. He didn't know why the place was deserted but it was, every time he went, it was deserted. It might be the ripped wallpaper that had claw marks on it or the chandelier that hang by a thread threatening to drop its load on the first passerby. Jackson didn't care. It suited his purposes just fine.
Jackson flicked the knife he carried over the grassy bed in front of the front doors and wandered in to his little slice of paradise. The blood from the tip slashed a few of its precious drops onto the grass and cracked wall next to it from the impact.
Jackson kicked the doors open none too gently and strolled in. he glanced to the left before making his way to the door on his right. He took no notice of the broken furniture or the scuffed floor. Just continued into the mansion. He kicked broken pieces of furniture out of his way every now and again. Having never been to this part of the mansion before the pieces grew in number, the dust grew in size.
Jackson stumbled as he came across something strange. A statue. A statue of an Angel. The Angel cried into her hands. Jackson noticed that around the statue the dust stopped and the piles of broken wood and fabric made an almost perfect circle. The Angel's hair was curled, the wings feathered perfectly. It was hard not to believe that it was real.
Jackson frowned at it. Yes the statue was beautiful, but he didn't like beautiful. Well this just wouldn't do for his slice of paradise. Jackson growled under his breath and scrunched his eyes closed for a split second in anger. This would mean having to move that damn statue from the mansion! As he opened his eyes he noticed something off.
The statue had moved. The head was a little higher and was turned as if to look over its shoulder, the hands lowered a fraction. The face was smooth with no trace of anguish or a tear. Jackson continued to frown and concisely closed his eyes briefly to clear them.
Upon opening them he saw the statue had again moved. This time it was a metre away from him and held a vicious look in the empty cavities that should contain eyes. The statues teeth were bared and Jackson could see clean down its throat. The hands were clawed and reaching out for him. The wings on the angels back were spread slightly giving the statue a look of height as if it hovered above the ground and was bidding its time.
Jackson calmly moved out of its path and around behind it to the edge of the circle.
He blinked.
The statue had moved. It was now so close that if he slumped a fraction forward he would be touching it. The arms or the Angel were now hovering around his throat. Jackson moved back to his original position and narrowed his eyes to slits then opened them fully.
No the statue hadn't moved. It seemed he needed to stop looking at it fully, have his vision cut off from it.
That was when a small creak sounded behind him, sounding as if a stair had moved or a wavering wall was touched.
Without thinking, Jackson turned his upper body towards the noise.
Jackson didn't have time to look back or to even blink. Before he looked away.
Cutting off his vision from the Angel completely.
There was a tinkling sound as the blood stained knife Jackson had held fell to the floor.
The Angel placed the knife onto the perimeter of its circle. Then it placed it head in its hands and waited.