Hey guys!
Just a few words about this project and myself! My name's George Lamb! I'm a lifelong who-fan! This story is gonna be told through a series of chapters each week! It takes place between In the Forest of the Night and Dark Water!
Anyhow this is the prologue! Hope you all like it!
Prologue
Kate slipped the bedclothes over her head. She didn't have to look to know that the Monster was leering out of the cupboard door, staring across the darkened bedroom at her hunkered shape. She knew it wouldn't hurt her, but it always understood how to pull at her fear, like a large horse tugging a great carriage. Sometimes the Monster would just stand in the door frame, fixing on her with it's small, crimson eyes. Sometimes, it would melt into the carpet and slither along the floor to her bedside where it would tilt over her and grin a sickening grin.
She'd told her Mummy about the Monster, of course but all she had done was take her to Dr. Ramsden and Kate didn't like Dr. Ramsden at all. She was a small, meticulous woman with a sharp face spreading to large, bushy eyebrows. She was always asking Kate about her father and the things she was afraid of. Kate never wanted to talk about Dad. When she did, she felt sad and thought about Mum pouring herself a glass of wine.
When her sessions with Dr. Ramsden didn't work out, Mum resorted to buying a night light and spreading salt in a messy circle around Kate's bed.
"Nothing can get past salt," she had said one night, perched at Kate's bedside, "No ghosts, or spirits or monsters. And you don't need to worry anyway. You know why?"
Kate nodded, and recited, reluctantly, "Because they don't exist." She didn't believe this herself, but it was something Mum had made her say.
Yet here she was. Once again cowering away from the Monster's small, red eyes.
There was no use in crying out. Kate knew her squeaky little voice had been stolen, like she were journeying through the darker waves of some terrible nightmare. It was how he managed to get away with it.
The cupboard was an antique, passed down from her Nana (although as far as Kate knew, Nana didn't have the same problem). Nana had died two years ago, when Kate was six, and having remembered how often Kate had played in the cupboard, pretending it was her house, or her secret hiding place, had left the antique to Kate in her will. She remembered being so excited the first night the large, rickety cupboard had been moved into her room.
But that was when the Monster first appeared.
It never spoke. Just growled and licked its lips with its long, thin tongue. It never touched her, either. The Monster would sometimes get close and press its face into hers, but it never wanted anything more than to terrify her.
And the best way to do that was to smile.
That was the worst. It was why Kate was burrowed so deep in her bedclothes. Her body felt heavy, and she knew that if she even tried, she wouldn't be able to move fast enough to break for the door. Instead, she would keep her eyes squeezed tightly shut, keep her hands clamped over her ears and wait for the Monster to go away.
And she would try not to think about the pointy, sharp yellow teeth concealed behind its lips like a small shark trying to break free.
This night, however, things would be different.
The Monster slipped quietly into the carpet and reanimated itself next to Kate's bed. It seemed to grow as it bore over her. Kate whimpered as she listened to the low, un-Earthly growl. She felt the covers being slowly pulled away. She tried to reach up a hand, but an invisible weight pulled her down. She risked a look at the Monster. His large, multicoloured body-suit somehow unnerved her in the darkness, and the large, clown-face broke into a sickening grin. It's thick green hair wrapped around the side of its head, culminating in one large point on the top. It stomped a ridiculous over-sized shoe onto the side of the bed and let it's tongue slip out from between the jagged teeth.
Kate wanted to scream. She wanted to shut her eyes, bury her head into the bed and roar as loud as she could, but instead, she was fixated on the surreal face, watching it seem to twist and contort at will.
Then, the bedroom door burst open, letting in a warm glow of light from the upstairs hall. A tall, stick-thin figure with large, bushy gray hair let his great shadow bathe the Monster. A large object that appeared to Kate much like a wand, was pointed at the Monster, wrapped in the man's long, bony fingers. A weighty, black coat hung off the man's frail outline, spewing out swathes of a majestic red underneath.
"Excuse me!" his grand, booming voice broke through the silence. The Monster returned its large foot to the floor and shifted all its attention in the tall man's direction.
Kate couldn't explain it, but in that moment, she found her strength. She felt safer and stronger. The man looked tired and frail. Form what little light bounced off his face, she saw streaks of dirt and mud. But still he seemed powerful.
He took a careful step into the room keeping the large wand fixed on the Monster and said, "You seem to be scarring my friend."
The book flew through the air, ricocheted off the metal rail and settled uncomfortably on the hard floor.
Clara Oswald watched this from the safety of the open doorway. She wasn't sure if the Doctor had even heard her enter; he was muttering to himself as he jittered from left to right, scanning through the large bookcase at the back of the console room. He growled and sighed, shoving books aside, hunting through the shelves.
In a bid to announce her presence, Clara slammed the door shut. The sound echoed through the vast chamber but did nothing to grab the Doctor's attention.
"What you looking for?" she called.
Keeping his attention on the bookcase, he said, "I can't find it."
"Yep. Gathered that, thanks," Clara stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and strolled to the console.
"Fun trip," she called out, "That's what I was told, anyway. Big fun trip to Ancient Greece."
The Doctor flicked through a large, dusty volume, "What?"
"Nothing."
Suddenly, the Doctor's eyes seemed to grow. His brow eased and something close to a smile crept across his lips. In a flash he darted down the stairs and dumped the large book on the console, sending up a large cloud of dust, like wasps escaping their nest. The Doctor began manipulating switches on the console. He snatched at the scanner, pulling it round, revealing a series of, to Clara, indecipherable readings that danced and scrolled across the screen.
Clara coughed and waved the dust aside, "Important, is it?"
"I don't understand it!" the Doctor cried.
"You're not the only one," Clara muttered.
"No!" the Doctor slapped his hand across the screen, "This! It makes no sense!"
"What's up?"
The Doctor looked at her with the face that Clara knew all too well. It was a face that was thinking, trying to figure a convincing lie.
"Is that a new dress?" he asked.
Clara smirked and said, "We're not going to Ancient Greece, are we?"
With a loud, dusty bang, the Doctor pulled the large book cover closed, "I've already been."
Clara felt the blood rushing through her face, "What?!"
"I forgot!" before she could argue, the Doctor had set to work at the console and the wheezing and groaning of the ancient, tired engines filled the console room.
"How did you forget? You promised!"
"Have you looked at the book?" the Doctor had moved to the other side of the console.
Clara glanced at the cover: it was leather-bound, with thick circles imprinted across the brown surface.
"Yeah? Bunch of circles. What am I looking for?"
"There's a signal I've been tracking," the Doctor appeared over Clara's shoulder.
"A distress signal?" she asked.
The Doctor shook his head, "I don't know. Been trying to figure out it's point of origin. It's scrambled across the Time Vortex."
Clara shook her head, "Come again?"
"One signal. Stretching back over three decades in the 22nd century."
"No, I mean why can't you find it's point of origin?"
"I'm sure that's a new dress," the Doctor set back off round the console.
"Stop being nice to me," said Clara.
"Why?" asked the Doctor.
"It doesn't suit you," she smiled, "It's not new, anyway. I bought it a while back."
"P.E's a lucky man."
Clara waved her hand, "Point of origin?"
The Doctor lowered his head, focused himself on some fiddly switches, "How is old P.E, these days?"
Clara smiled and folded her arms, "You can't find it, can you?"
"Can't find what?"
"Oh, please," Clara laughed, placed her hand on the book, "I know what this is. It's the manual, right? TARDIS Manual?" Clara waited for a response, "I'm right, aren't I? Say I'm right."
"I thought I'd tossed it away years back," the Doctor snatched the book from under her hand.
"You think she's broken?"
The Doctor's eyebrows raised, revealing the large eyes beneath, piercing through her like a blast of energy, "Don't be so stupid! 'Course she's not broken!" the Doctor patted the console, "Don't listen to her!"
"Can't she trace the signal?"
The Doctor closed his eyes and pinched the tip of his nose, "It never occurred to me. Of course she can trace the signal! It's what she's been doing! But she's tracked the point of origin to different time zones! It's scrambled!"
The Doctor found his way to Clara's shoulder, "Someone's in trouble. I can't help them."
She knew it cut him deeply. It was in his very nature to help anyone he could, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.
Clara turned to the Doctor. She placed a hand on his cheek, smiling at his now confused expression, "You're adorable when you're angry."
Then, the TARDIS door opened.
The Doctor and Clara froze, both eyes fixed on each others. Neither dared to look.
Clara whispered, "Are we in flight?"
"Yes," the Doctor quietly replied.
The door slammed shut. A cold breeze flickered through the console room.. Clara slowly peered over her shoulder, the Doctor glanced to the door.
Then, his brow knitted together. Clara felt her voice leave her.
There was a clown stood in the doorway. He was holding a red balloon in his hand.