Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show


A/N: So... I don't know where this came from. It's pretty random. Also, the narrator is very much fictional and not based on any real person I know. I've never met anyone from Belfast, though I've heard the accent is confusing to outsiders which is a good thing here. If someone reading this lived in Belfast, Northern Ireland during the 1960s thinks this is awfully inaccurate don't be offended. Of course, I don't think anyone fitting that description would be reading this. They'd be my Granny's age...

The fact that she wants to be an actress is what we call a 'Chekov's Skill'. Later the things she's learned in order to be more useful to the BBC will be very useful to the story.


It was 1960-something when this story starts. The specific year doesn't matter. These days you've got computers, mathematics… okay, we also had mathematics. I just didn't think they did me any good and staunchly avoided them. Never have I actually needed half the things they tried to teach us.

Life wasn't going well in my opinion. I was a kid. Teenaged and already tired of how my life was going. I felt so old, like I'd lived a hundred years longer than I actually had. Looking back, the 60s in general were like that. Everyone is feeling old, tired, and ready to take action. Wanting to fix all these restrictions that kept us from feeling truly free.

Too often I felt like I knew more than I really did. When you're that age you don't know anything at all. But I had a good mind for Holmes-like deduction and would cheat my way through life like that. I wanted more, though. So much more. I wanted to be 'cool' and be in control of my life. My idea of 'cool' was a common one, though I thought it was unique.

As a way of asserting myself or something I'd wear these miniskirts. Everybody wore them in those days. Even the boys did in the city – or so I'd heard. I also cut my hair kinda short. Not short as Twiggy's, mind you, because it's too hard to straighten. I'm sort of Irish, so my hair is terribly curly. My skin's also pretty fair and doesn't do well with sunlight. Good thing I live in the gloomy, rainy British Isles. You know, The Beatles originated here. Those four wonderful boys – and, I suppose, the Queen – are reasons I'm proud to be a Brit!

I'm not really that British, though. I adore the movies – which are American. Though I suppose we've got movies too. We've at least got the BBC, and therefore Doctor Who, which is nice. My life ambition was too be in Doctor Who one day. That would be a real dream come true even now.

Anyway, my life as an average British girl became far from average when a Castle from the Stars interrupted it. Yep, you heard me right. Aliens invaded Belfast! Though the Troubles were being especially troublesome later in the decade, things were quiet when the Castle happened. Somehow, even at that mostly point in time, nobody really noticed the aliens. Boy, they were missing out on some exciting events. Those events deserve a title. I think I'll call it the Belfast Affair. That would be fitting. It's delightfully ominous. And 'affair' is a word that makes sense with those mad aliens.

Anyway, it began on a perfectly normal day. Though I suppose it wasn't an ordinary day if it all began then. The day began ordinary… then wasn't.

I was being angsty whilst sitting outside my school building and occasionally kicking the building. It's a nice school, mind. I just wasn't in agreement with mainstream at the moment and kicking the building seemed Right according to this rebellious state of mind. Staring dreamily at the sky, I wondered about the future. Would I ever be a grand actress? Would I ever be on Doctor Who? Wait…. was that a spaceship?

There, amongst the fluffy white clouds, was a stone-square-thing. It was sort of hard to see. For all I knew it could've been smashed-up bits of some part of the city that had been hit hard by the War. Those places weren't very pretty.

As the thing in the sky neared the ground I realized it was a castle. I also realized it was going to end up somewhere near the outskirts of the city.

"How extraordinary!" I muttered, as was my habit.

A moment later it was time for the schoolday to begin. As I wandered off to a fiendish geometry class I nearly forget all about it. Though it was always there in the back of my mind.

When school ended I went home, left a note to Dad stating what I was doing, and then went looking for the sky-castle. This was a very strange little mission of mine. Though I needed to know what this was all about. One of the few things I actually hate is being in the dark about something. That's one reason I didn't like the repressive society I lived in. Nobody told the young people anything. Why couldn't we wear mini-skirts? Because we couldn't. That's not a real answer, but the adults all think so!

Anyway, I spent the entire afternoon looking for the castle. Lots of people know me in my neighborhood, but other places don't. Especially areas that got ruined in the War. There's darkness and homeless people. So eventually I was too weirded out and went home. Dad greeted me at the door.

"Hello, dear. What's this 'castle' you mentioned?" he asked me.

"It fell from the sky, Da! Like something out of-"

"Like something out of Doctor Who. Right. Don't you have some work you should've be doing? Or are you protesting again?" His tone was playful, so he clearly wasn't angry. Though I felt a bit insulted.

It was at this point that I decided that I needed to unravel the Mystery of the Castle. Then I would be taken more seriously. Later, of course, I realized there wasn't much of a mystery. Just a group of very unusual people – which I liked, since I find such things endearing – living in a magic castle that wasn't a TARDIS (though it really should've been). On the second day I learned all of it. First, however, I spent the night dreaming of what mysterious beings owned that castle from the stars…


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