Foreword:

It was by chance that I found this story. Digging aimlessly through an antique shop, which is something I enjoy, I came across an old desk. The desk held absolutely no interest to me, but while scurrying through a conglomeration of objects time forgot and generally making a massive mess, (much to the shop owner's annoyance) I found myself inspecting the continents of the desk drawers. I remember thinking there was something odd about the paneling on the front of the desk and I pressed gently on it, believing it to be out of place. To my great surprise, the panel pressed inward on well-oiled springs and slid to the side. I jumped back and glanced at the shop owner. She had given up scowling at me and turned her attention to her IPhone. Satisfied I was undiscovered, I peered into the hidden cupboard within the desk. It was a small dark space and I had to squint to see inside. Intrigued by the possibility of discovery, I reached my hand into the cupboard and felt inside. Cobwebs tangled my fingers and I swear something crawled across my fingers. Jerking back, I shook my hand to rid it of whatever was on my hand and quickly dove in again. Within moments my fingertips came into contact with a thick leather substance. I scratched for purchase on its face and finally managed to lift the leather thing from the cupboard. It was a book; the oldest one I had ever seen outside of a museum. The paper was thick, yellowed with age and ink words marked its surface, but confinement in the cupboard had preserved the book reasonably well. I figured it had to be worth a large amount of money.

Acting quickly, I set the book back in its hidden drawer and closed the panel. Without further ado, I announced to the shop owner that I desired to buy the desk. She gave me an odd look, but named her price.

Two hours later the desk sat in my living room. I smiled at the ugly thing and bent down to open the hidden cupboard. Taking out the book, I sat down on the floor and with my mind buzzing with curiosity, I opened to the first page.

All that is written down here is exactly as I read it. The tale seems to be a diary, or a letter of some sort, but the stories and knowledge it contains is impossible. Obviously, whoever the story was intended for never received the letter. I can only hope that by publishing this work that he, if he indeed exists, will read and be put at peace.

Now, I present to you words penned in the year 1913 by a woman named who called herself Amelia Pond.

Day One

Please hear me.

Don't be the stubborn idiot you always are and refuse to listen. Please. For me.

You of all people should know that if nothing ever ended, nothing would ever begin.

Even if I could go back in time and change things, I wouldn't. I made my decision oh so long ago by swinging away from the angel in that graveyard. The truth is that everybody says goodbye, and every story ends.

What I want you to understand is that even though my time with you is over, you bow-tie sporting idiot of a Time Lord, my story is far from finished. We've gone on different paths, and that's alright. Sure I miss you; I'll always remember the adventures we had, but in the end, leaving was the best possible thing. If I hadn't chosen as I did, so many things would be left undone.

This is my story, the story of Amelia Pond Williams, and unlike most tales, it started at the end of another.

I don't know what I thought it would be like, but I didn't imagine this. The moment the frigid fingers of the horrid statue touched my shoulder, everything rippled around me. Melting, smudged like wet paint, that's how the world seemed. I was screaming, but I couldn't hear my own voice. You were screaming too, frozen in time with your mouth open and your eyes openly showing the agony you felt. Probably you don't know, but I reached out to touch you, the best friend I ever had. You melted in my fingers like ice cream in the summer sun.

Terror seized me. It was dark, and I was alone. Sinking down, I could feel the coolness of dew covered grass underneath me and I knew my trip was at its end. I wasn't in New York anymore. I could be anywhere, anywhen. For a moment I didn't breath, didn't think, didn't move. Maybe if I stayed still long enough my heart would petrify and stop hurting so much.

And then I remembered.

I remembered why I made this choice in the first place. Stumbling to my feet, I wiped my leaking eyes. "Rory!" I screamed.

My voice was hoarse, like the cry of something dead. I felt like something dead.

I needed my husband, and I needed him now. Hoping against hope that the angel had sent me to the same place as it sent him, I screamed his name into the night. I had to find him because I didn't know what I would do if I didn't.

Actually, scratch that, I knew exactly what I was going to do if I couldn't find Rory. There was no way I could live without him, so I'd stop. It's not complicated. Stop living and just like that everything would be over with. All the pain and sorrow and tears would cease.

But don't worry, Doctor. I value my life. I wouldn't resort to that until I'd searched the whole bloody universe for that stupid face of his.

I'd start my search with the woods that I found myself in. It was dark and massive tree limbs hung over me like a bird cage. Mist floated a few inches above the ground and owls screeched in the distance. If I hadn't been totally exhausted, terrified, and generally panicking, I might have found the setting to be mysterious and a bit exciting. Right now it made my heart thump as fast as your double heartbeat. I was cold and lost and afraid and I'm ashamed to say my feet dug into the dirt and I fled.

Making ghosts in the air as I ran, my breath became more and more ragged. I continued screaming for Rory all the while. Suddenly a root seemed to spring from the ground. It caught my ankle like a bony hand might and I screamed, fell, and scurried on my hands and knees away from it. I rock bit into my palm and when I finally got to my feet and continued running, a branches slapped my in the face. my arms and legs and knees were on fire with small scratches as I blundered through the night, but I ignored the pain.

After an eternity of all this, I fell to my knees at the foot of a massive oak tree and refused to move a single inch farther. I didn't feel the pain across my body, because it was blotted out by the pain in my heart. You know me, I'm not usually one to cry, but on that terrifying, horrific night, I wept into my hair.

Being loud of a thing of the past. No longer did I scream and shout, instead fat droplets, glittering diamonds, dripped down my scratched and muddied face and puddled in my hands. Never in all of my life did I feel so hopeless, so alone, Doctor. In a single instant, I lost my parents, my daughter, my best friend, and most likely, also my husband.

I wondered if this was what you feel like, being homeless the way you are. Lonely, afraid, paralyzed? I don't know how you smile every day.

I doubt I would have ever moved again if she hadn't found me curled into a ball at the foot of that tree. First I heard footsteps, the leaves crunching under her feet, and then the humming of a familiar tune I couldn't quite place, trickled to my ears.

Swiftly I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was too dark to see her face, but by the light of a tiny lantern she cradled in her arms, the woman definitely saw mine. Freezing, she thrust the lantern toward me in shock. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" The woman rushed forward.

"I'm fine," I croaked, clearly not. The light stung my eyes and I squinted to see the woman behind the light. She wore a full length dress that she had hiked up above her knees, and a head covering rested crookedly on the top of her head. It all had a very early 1900's feel and I supposed that that was where I was sent. Her skin was a warm, chocolate color.

She rolled her eyes, seeing through my words like I didn't even speak them. "No, you're not. You look like you were attacked by a bloody lion."

I really wasn't up for conversation, and my exhaustion was keeping me from forming even the simplest thoughts. "No… the trees are... pokey."

Frowning in concern, the woman bent down. "Alright. I'm a doctor. I can help you."

I cringed at her words. "Doctor? Yeah, I really, really could use 'im right about now." I couldn't see straight and everything was spinning. "But I don't need you, I need a different sort of doctor."

The woman cocked her head like I'd just said something strange. Then she shrugged. "Alright. I'm not giving you a choice. I'll take you back to the house and get you fixed up there." She reached down to help me up, but I scrambled away and got to my feet on my own.

I lurched to the side but managed to keep my balance. Brushing some leaves off of my clothes, I sniffed and attempted to regain some dignity. "I'm fine, thank you. Just lost. A place to stay the night would be really nice."

Smiling gently, the woman stepped toward me. "Of course, Master Smith has plenty of spare rooms."

She was a maid then. That made sense, being that sadly, in the early 1900's there weren't many occupational options for a woman of her complexion. I nodded briskly and pretended I was still in control. "Thanks."

The woman pointed in the distance. "Come on. It's not far from here." She smiled but there was concern in her eyes. Keeping close by me as we walked, her lantern flung the shadows away. At one point exhaustion got the better of me and I tripped. Instantly the woman was at my side. She wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders and lifted me to my feet. Step by step, she kept me going, and I found I was too tired to complain.

Only partially conscious, I dimly wondered what a woman like her was doing in the woods so late at night, but then the thought slipped through my fingers at the sight of 'Master Smith's' house.

I could see very little in the darkness, but it seemed to be a pleasant enough building of a comfortable size. All of the lights were off except for a room on the second story. I briefly caught the silhouette of a man before a curtain blocked my view. Going by the size of the house, I supposed that Master Smith was well off, but not exceedingly rich. Warmth and safety seemed to waft off of the site in waves and I attempted to hasten my pace.

Stumbling together onto the back porch, the woman quickly set me on the floor and raced inside. "Don't go anywhere," she cried, "I'll be right back!"

Like I was going to go back into those dark woods. I had been rushing about for, good grief, at least twenty four hours now, and my panicked race through the woods tipped me over the edge. I could hear her voice echoing from within the house and then the replies of a masculine voice. As I waited for my savior to return, my eyelids grew heavy. My vision tunneled and I felt strong arms under my arms. Graciously I was claimed by unconsciousness.

AN:Please leave a review!