Snowman
Disclaimer:I don't own anything here but the sick imagination that won't leave me to write some light fluf even for Christmas.
A/N: This is a Christmas Challenge from the TARDIS forum, where we are given a promp everyday untill Christmas and we have to write a Christmas story on it. This first one is really short, but that is all I could do and seening that we are already on a day 5 I'm trying to catch up. I'll be updating here as a different chapters. This first one is dark I'm almost sure that the next one would be no different. They are not betaed but they are just a shord festive stories.
It was Christmas again, but this Christmas was so much different from all the rest. It was the first Christmas of the Saxon's reign on Earth, and for Martha Jones this Christmas wasn't spent in a coy warm room decorated in bright garlands and a Christmas tree. No this Christmas for Miss Jones meant running from the Toclafanes and hiding into the cold snow. She tried not to think of what she would be doing in this time of year usually, it didn't help her mood, but she couldn't stop. She thought of Leo receiving the same silly cheery Christmas jumper form her father and pretending to actually like it until he got home and disposed of it. She could still feel the smell of her mum's Christmas cookies. Her stomach churned with hunger from the thought. All she had for her Christmas dinner was a can with out of date kidney beans and a glass of wine that one of the rebels give her to warm up before she left. They did ask her to stay with them and tell them some more stories about the Doctor, but Martha knew that she couldn't stay too long in one place. Beside the Master was probably going on a hunt for Christmas, he seems to find it amusing to take people on the most holy feasts and make them represent the events for him. The problem was he did not want a theatrical play; all the representation was a bit too realistic. She had heard stories of what he did on Easter by crucifying some unfortunate guy and then throwing him to the wolves telling people that he could not resurrect. She grimaced and thought that maybe the festive memories were better in this holly night. Only she knew that the Master was hunting her down today more than any other day and making his sick game of representing the hunt for the baby Jesus with his hunt for Martha.
Martha shivered from the cold and looked at the light that came from a small house in the distance. How much she wished to go knock on the door and offer a story about adventure and hope just for a little warmth. It was Christmas after all, weren't people supposed to talk about adventures and hope? She get almost tempted but then the small metal spheres who knew not mercy even in this night descended upon the house and the flicker of hope and warm was gone. Martha tightened her coat around herself to keep the warm closer to her body and tried to find a relative warm and safe place to sleep, she thought of what her parents would be doing right now. Were they allowed a bit of a peace and comfort or were they serving the Master and his blonde tart while they were feasting?
She felt cold and lonely, like the little girl selling matches in that old tale her gran used to tell her. The girl who died freezing and hungry on Christmas night after her last match had burned. She wondered if she was going to die like that. Would there be tale about the girl Martha Jones who tried to save the world but died alone. She didn't want to die alone not today, not in a night when everyone was supposed to be with their loved ones.
She didn't want and she wasn't going to die alone. So she stood up and smiled starting to gather some snow into balls. She was going to make herself a snowman. It might be pathetic but she was determined that her snowman would be her companion in that cold and unholy Christmas. And when she finishes it she would lie down next to it and then they could find her, but will never say that Martha Jones died alone.