The door creaked slowly open
The door creaked slowly open. Martha squinted to see through the thick fog that seemed to envelop both her and the doctor as they stood on the threshold.
"Should we… go in?"
"Yes, why not?" The doctor turned around to look at Martha.
"Because it's creepy. I have a bad feeling about this"
"Come on. You're not afraid of a little fog, are you? You humans are scared of everything. But, to quote, 'you have nothing to fear but fear itself'"
"And what's that from?"
"I have absolutely no idea. Great, now it's going to bug me the whole time we're here. Nice one, Martha"
"Its not my fault!"
"Well why don't you-"
"Look, Doctor, are we just going to stand here bickering or go through the bloody door?"
"You're not scared?"
"Nope. Lets go" Martha pushed the doctor through the opening, and into the unknown.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Where are we?"
"I can't see"
"Cant you make out anything?"
"I don't have peripheral vision, besides what you might assume"
The doctor and Martha were walking hand in hand through the fog, grasping at things in front of them that didn't exist. Martha would suddenly see a dark figure coming close, and then reach out to touch it and it would be gone. It seemed to limp, or maybe that was a distortion cast by the fog. The figure loomed above Martha, and she dropped the doctor's hand with a scream. It was so close she could feel the icy breath on her neck. Falling to the grass-covered floor, she looked up again, and the thing was gone. She looked around hopelessly. Martha wiped her dewy hands on her jeans, and stood up jerkily. Straining her head to see if the thing was still there and it wasn't. She wiped her hand on her forehead, wiping away perspiration, and sighed in relief.
"Doctor?," she half-whispered, afraid that the thing would come up again and attack her. Maybe, just maybe, if she was quiet enough, she could pass by the thing without it noticing she was still there.
"Doctor?" she whispered again, "this isn't funny. I fell. I'm ok, but-"Martha heard a strange sound, like an owl, hooting over the garden and magnified by a thousand times. Dropping to her knees, Martha buried her head in her lap. She'd never get out of there alive.
"Hello?! Anybody there?" yelled the Doctor consciously, swatting the fog with one of his hands.
"heeeelllllooooo?!" nobody answered. He could hear nothing.
"Hm. That's strange" whispered the doctor to himself, "I never whisper to myself. I always talk to myself. And rather loudly, too."
"Don't you agree, Martha?" asked the doctor, annoyed at Martha's unexplained silence. He whirled around, and Martha wasn't there.
"Martha?" he whispered fiercely into the mist. There was no reply. He raised an eyebrow, and turned to his right. There was a huge black shadow looming above him.
"What…" he muttered, squinting at the shape before him.. It reared up, and the doctor blinked, henceforth it promptly disappeared. He blinked again, and put a hand up to scratch his head. A cold, vice-like grip took his hand, and it was as cold as ice. The doctor whirled around, determined to face the perpetrator. He looked up, expecting, as the shadow was, for the figure to be large. But there was nothing eye-to-eye with him. Glancing down quickly, he realised it was a child. Mary Lennox, in fact. She was pale white, and had grey eyes, in contrast to the big brown eyes he had become accustomed to. Her tiny stone-white (and cold) hand clutched his arm roughly. She was stronger than she looked. Much stronger, the doctor suspected.
"Mary?" he asked uncertainly. Mary, whose face had been set in stone, suddenly creased into dimples and a wide-set grin. Her childish face was almost childish again, but there was something hidden and menacing in the depths of those grey eyes.
"Doctor… come with me" replied Mary, pulling him strongly by the hand she was already holding, giving him no choice but to follow. The doctor was intrigued, and many questions formed in his mind, but the most prominent of these was: What is wrong with Mary?
Martha lay down on the hard grass floor. She shut her eyes and thought for a few minutes, assessing her position. She was alone, as far as she knew, in the middle of a strange invisible garden that, supposedly, nobody but she and the doctor knew about. Now, if there was a way out, she could either keep going to face the terrors that may lurk in the dark reaches of the garden, or she could attempt to retrace her steps and get out of there. If she did get out of there, alive, before becoming prey to a large black shadow, surely the Doctor would too? She might have a chance of survival, but the Doctor may need help. Martha fought back tears, squinting her eyes further shut. There was no other way. She would just have to find the doctor, she couldn't just abandon him like this. Just a few more moments Martha lay on the wet grass. Then, her eyes flew open. She heard a twig cracking underfoot, which surely meant someone… or something… was nearby.
"Hello?" whispered Martha uncertainly. The fog was so thick she could even see her feet or hands. A small figure lurched uncertainly towards her, limping slightly. Martha recognised, from the limp, that this was the same thing that had startled her before. She gulped; her eyes wide.
"Who… what are you?" she asked, gaining confidence. The petite figure, which she now could make out, was human, rushed forward and smashed into her, pushing her slightly backwards, Momentarily taken aback and horrified, Martha pushed the thing back a little, and only then did she realise that the "monster" was a little boy, holding onto her tightly and burying his head in her stomach.
"Hey…" she muttered, patting Colin's head, "what are you doing in here?"
"I—I was…." The boy sobbed, and shuddered convulsively.
"It's okay…" crooned Martha, hugging Colin back. She didn't want to pressure him into answering; he was obviously frightened of something. Then again, so was she, and it was the strange garden. She pushed a hair back from her face, and gently pried Colin's fingers from around her shoulders.
"Look here, Colin. Are you going to be okay to walk a bit?" asked Martha. Colin, with his tearstained face, nodded solemnly.
"Okay… you're doing a great job" said Martha, after the pair walked a couple of metres.
Martha only had two choices. To get Colin out of danger, or to aid the doctor. Solemnly, Martha thought the doctor could fight his own battles. Colin, however, was a crippled child, little more than nine years old. He needed help, and the doctor didn't.
Or so she thought.
To be continued…
Author's note:
I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I lost interest for a while, but I'm back on it, and I'll hopefully update more frequently now. As for short chapters, I have a short attention span. Most chapters are three pages long on Microsoft word. This one is two and a half pages. Sorry guys this is how I operate without caffeine.
