Hey everyone! This is my first Doctor Who fanfiction, surprisingly; I've never really had a good idea towards now. You're probably will wonder who the heck these people are, and I'll get there soon enough. These are my OC (well, not my OC, one is, the others are my friends). This is a result of being bored in drama class (auto correct, it's never boring in that class, we were just goofing around) so please give this a try; the Doctor will come in soon enough, I promise. So please, enjoy this chapter! It basically gives an insight on the companion, my OC's story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. Those are the rights to BBC. However, I do own Noel. My friend Jessie owns the Alchemist, and my friend Devin owns the Hunter.
~Doooeweeeooo~
Everyone has those moments. Those moments where you can perfectly play it in your head, and recite it again and again until you're sick of it and take a break from telling it to your mates for a while.
Then everyone has those moments you wish you could forget. Those moments where when you think about them, you shudder, or shed a tear, or just push it to the back of your mind because you don't want to deal with the pain of that figurative hole in your heart where that lost or regrettable thing belongs.
We've all had our share of those moments; some even more so than others.
We've all seen our measure of pain, and sorrow, and happiness, and love. What people need to learn is how to balance out these things, how to not be too happy or too depressed to ruin the mood, where you have this picture perfect moment where you're just…content with your life.
I felt that with The Alchemist…all the time. Oh, you're probably wondering who the Alchemist is, am I correct?
Don't shake your head at me; I know you want to know. We'll get there soon enough. Let's start from the beginning of the story, before he was a changed man, before his life was filled with sorrow beyond belief, and happiness that would try to explode inside of him.
Let's go way back, way back to the start, to the man who took my hand and whispered "Run".
~Doowwweeeoooooo~
You never know what garbage really smells like until you've been inside a dumpster. Now, don't get me wrong; I wasn't in there voluntarily. People just happen to pick me up and throw me in. Like every morning. For the past two years.
Figures.
I sighed and got up, tossing my knapsack out first, then climbing over the rail, almost falling in the process, but I've almost perfected it now.
Wow. That sounded a lot less sad and pathetic in my head. Ah well, can't have everything in life, don't I know that for a fact?
I fixed my clothing and rolled my eyes at the hollering and whooping the boys were making as they walked away. Huffing, I picked up the papers that had fallen out of my bag when they jumped me, now seeing the slurs and horrible grammar that was now on my 3 page report I worked so hard on.
Of freaking course.
I sighed yet again (I sigh a lot, get over it) and put the ruined papers back in my bag; I guess I'll be explaining why they're ruined. Again. Not that anyone will believe me anyways.
If you must know, I am known as the freak of this small town of Alsan, population 1,320. The place where everyone knows everyone and the best thing to do is gossip about the other people you know behind your back.
My mom and I…we're the best gossip in town. My mom, you see, is an alcoholic; she drinks everyday to try and forget that my father abandoned her and left her with the bane of her existence.
In other words, me.
I could fill up two hours in a coffee shop of how she's kicked me out of the house, smacked me hard enough to bruise, and throw plates and other utensils at me. It scared me after a while, but you get used to it after 14 years.
I gripped the paper in my hand and kept going, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed my footsteps. I kept my eyes forward, showing that I'm still standing strong, even if you throw the worst at me.
Hey, like they say, sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will never hurt me.
That's when I heard the noise. It was a groaning; almost a wheezing, like a donkey with asthma. I looked around curiously, trying to find the source of the strange sound.
"Hello?" I called, peering around the corner of a house, which is now currently abandoned. I crept into the alleyway, and saw the most unexpected thing; yet, it was kind of expected.
A blue police box. It was from the 1960's, which made it seemed faded and old, but it looked like it was thrumming with life. I blinked and crept closer to it.
As I got closer, I saw writing on a sign, and it read as follows:
Police Telephone
Free
For the use of
Public
Advice and Assistance
Obtainable Immediately
Officers and Cars
Respond to all Calls
Pull to Open
I read it again. Pull to open, huh? I thought to myself. I looked to my right, to my left, and behind me, seeing if anyone was watching. Then I grabbed the handle, and pulled the door handle.
A/N: Reviews are appreciated! xx