I keep forgetting to write, I'm so sorry! And I'm going to re-work some plot points so that I won't have to regenerate the Doctor, and therefore won't get stuck there again.
"Oof" I opened my eyes to find myself spread-eagled on the floor. I quickly stood up and dusted myself off. How in the world had I gotten there? I thought hard but could not remember. Oh well. It would come to me. I took a look around. Ah, yes. The art gallery. I was standing in front of a rather large painting, titled "Fabricated World". It was unsettling, to say the least.
I stepped out into the main gallery. I needed a smoke. I had been trying to quit for a few months, and I was not about to stop now. I patted my pockets for a piece of candy. They helped take the edge off. Unfortunately, I seemed to have eaten my last one. In one of my back pockets, however, I found a handkerchief. It was soaked in blood.
"What in the world?" I thought to myself "I don't own anything like this." I inspected the handkerchief more thoroughly. In the corner someone had lovingly embroidered the name Ib. I got a strange sense of deja vu when I read that name. "Ib...Ib...I don't know an Ib. I really hope she doesn't mind me having it. She? Where did I get she? Oh...yes...I remember now...IB!" Suddenly all my memories came rushing back, and I panicked a bit. I had left that poor child in the 'other' gallery! I had to get back there.
How did I get there, again? I couldn't remember. The memories of the gallery were still quite fuzzy. I mentally retraced my steps. "I was in the gallery...I looked at the hanged man...and then what? I walked off somewhere, I can't remember..." I headed back to the hanged man. I gave it a good look. Nothing. I inspected it closer. Nothing. I was fairly certain it wasn't how I got in the 'other' gallery. I sighed, having lost my only lead. Some people were chattering behind me. I couldn't help picking up some of their conversation.
"This isn't Leadworth." A red-headed woman said.
"No, it most certainly isn't." A man that was walking with her replied.
"So shouldn't we, I don't know, turn around?" They were coming near me, so I headed backwards to make room. Figuring that "The Hanged Man" probably wouldn't help me beyond this point, I took another look at "Fabricated World". I was about to move on when I noticed that in the corner of the painting there was the image of a woman pulling herself out of the painting frame. It was, indeed, something I had observed in the 'other' gallery. With this in mind, I looked at other portions of the painting. Various scenes from the 'other' gallery were depicted. For example, Ib's rose was painted in the upper left-hand corner. I reached out to touch it, and the moment my fingers connected with it, the lights flickered and the dull murmur of quiet words disappeared.
I stood completely still, hardly daring to breathe. All was quiet. Everyone in the gallery had disappeared. I might just have made it. I was in the 'other' gallery. And it was freaking creepy. I started walking around, taking deep breaths to calm myself. There had to be a way to go in deeper around here somewhere. I headed down the stairs, into the main room. A large fish had been painted on the floor. There was-in the regular gallery that is-a fence around it. A section of it had been broken off now, and there were painted footprints leading in.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." I whispered and jumped in.