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The Witch in the Woods
Part One
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Mirabelle Adams sat at the bus stop, holding onto her schoolbag tightly. She wasn't looking forward to school; it wasn't easy being eight years old and having a name like Mirabelle.
As she sat she stared at the house opposite. It had a red door and a well cared for garden surrounded by little stone walls. Shaun Turner lived there, the only other person who caught the 8.35 bus through to Little Chidick, where the nearest primary school was. There weren't many children in the village anymore.
But she hadn't seen Shaun for a week.
She didn't care, not that much, but it was nice to have someone to talk to on the trip, and who didn't think her name was funny. She could go across the road, knock on the door and find out what was wrong herself, but she knew that she wouldn't. It wasn't something she was going to admit, but she was too scared to go. It was Shaun's grandfather that scared her. She had met him once, wide eyes and shockingly white hair and she knew that he was crazy. Even her mum said that he was crazy; he claimed that he had seen the witch in the woods, but that was just some stupid fairy story to scare kids. Mirabelle felt quite proud of herself that the story didn't scare her anymore.
Still, Shaun was okay, and she sometimes felt sorry for him because his parents were dead and he had to live with his crazy old grandfather.
Suddenly, a wheezing noise filled the air. Mirabelle sat up, startled and looked around. That certainly wasn't the bus, not unless something had gone really wrong with the engine. She saw something across the road, just by the little wall next to Shaun's house. Scared, she jumped over the low hedge behind her, into Mrs Robertson's garden, and peered over it, watching.
Just to the left of the little gate appeared a tall blue box, with a flashing light on top. A moment later, a door in the front of it opened and a little man appeared, wearing a straw hat and swinging an umbrella.
"Hurry up, Ace!" he called as he took a long look at the house, then began to stroll down the road. Seconds later a teenager appeared wearing a black bomber jacket and carrying a rucksack.
When they were out of sight, Mirabelle crept out of her hiding place and sat back down at the bus stop. She stared at the blue box that sat across the road, and suddenly felt very, very curious. She may not have believed in fairy stories anymore, but magic was a very different matter. She wasn't too old to believe in that.
There was a distant, rumbling sound, and Mirabelle sighed. That would be the bus. She hoped that the blue box would still be there when she got home.
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The Doctor was grateful for the break, even though he was now knew that it wouldn't be for long. Spending the morning walking around the little village in the English countryside, enjoying the cool air and the bright sun had done him good. He felt refreshed, and even though she had been proclaiming her boredom most of the time, he knew Ace had eventually started to enjoy it as well, probably.
It was a change of scenery, and that scenery had been very calm.
Now he found himself sitting in an armchair in front of a fire, and watching as rain hit the windows of the house - a testament to the unpredictability of British weather. He brought the steaming cup of tea to his lips and took a sip.
Opposite him sat a man who appeared to be in his early sixties. His hairline was receding dramatically, and what was left was a shocking white. His eyes were fixed on the Doctor, and the Doctor gave an almost inaudible sigh. The tea and biscuits and reminiscing had been nice, but seemed to be coming to an end: those eyes were asking questions.
After the walk, he and Ace had returned to the TARDIS, and the Doctor had made sure he was at the right address. It had taken him a few minutes to convince the occupant of the house that he was who he said he was, but the TARDIS had proved to be quite convincing. He hadn't seemed especially surprised to see the Doctor. In fact, when he found out who he was he had seemed to deflate, his features creasing into a frown of sadness.
"Makes sense, I suppose," he had said, and invited the Doctor and Ace inside. The Doctor hadn't pursued what he had said; it wasn't quite time anyway. Monsters only came out at night.
The Doctor had realised what the comment had meant when he saw the newspaper lying on the table in the hallway, just next to the telephone. It was the local weekly, with the headline 'Local Boy goes Missing', emblazoned on the front page along with a picture of the boy and an appeal for information.
He glanced at the chair opposite him.
John Turner was still watching him, his wrinkled hand clasped around his own cup of tea. "So, Doctor," he said. "What are you doing here this time?"
"I think you know," replied the Doctor, placing his cup on the table. John nodded and closed his eyes. For a moment, the Doctor questioned how wise this course of action had been. He didn't need to tell him about this, he could have dealt with it by himself, probably, and John Turner was an old man now. Fit and healthy, yes, but perhaps he should have left him to his peaceful retirement.
He opened his eyes. The Doctor wondered how much effort it had taken John to keep his face that calm.
"The witch is back, isn't she?" he asked. The Doctor's face was serious, his eyes dark.
"Yes," he replied. "She is."
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Ace hadn't realised that there was a kid in the house until she caught him peering over the edge of the banister. Unruly brown curls and a pair of wide eyes were all she saw, before he spotted her watching him and ducked back upstairs. She grinned at that, obviously he was supposed to be in bed, but was curious about what was going on downstairs.
The Doctor and John Turner had seemed engrossed in their conversation. She wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, as she wasn't really paying attention, but it was obvious that they had met before.
She was sitting by the door, and managed to slip out of the room without either of them noticing. The kid wasn't on the stairs. She crept up them, and peered round the corner at the top. There he was, sitting with his back to the wall and wearing striped pyjamas.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes wide.
"Hey, relax," she said, "I'm not going to bite you." His eyes widened even further at that. He really did look quite scared. "I'm Ace," she said, keeping her distance.
"Yeah, I know," he said.
"You were eavesdropping," she said with a grin. The kid smiled back.
"Sort of," he admitted. "I was going to come down, but when I heard that he was here." The boy shrugged.
"You mean the Doctor?" asked Ace. "You don't want to meet him?"
"I do," said the boy. "It's just, well, the stories Grandpa tells. He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"
"The Professor? I suppose he is. What's your name, kid?" He was looking a little less frightened now, and she felt confident enough that he wasn't suddenly going to bolt to sit next to him. His wide eyes looked up at her, and she began to wonder if he just looked like that all the time.
"Shaun Turner." He paused, throwing a glance towards the door opposite. "Ace, do you believe in monsters?"
She looked down at Shaun. He didn't look any older than nine, but there was something very odd about the way he asked that question. She wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't want to lie to him, but the truth would probably be a bit much for a nine year old.
"What kind?" she asked eventually.
"The ones that when they're hidden in shadows they look almost human, but it's just a disguise. They're twisted and dark and ugly." It sounded like he was reciting something that he had been told. He paused to take a deep breath. "Evil things." He looked up at her. "Grandpa doesn't mention it much but I know he's seen a monster, a real one."
"How old are you, Shaun?" asked Ace.
"Eight and three quarters."
"Is that why you're sitting out here, because of monsters?"
He nodded miserably. "Not that kind, I think that's a grown-up monster. But the ones that go bump in the night. It hides under my bed, I think."
"Right now?"
He nodded again. Ace stood up. "Your monster's in there?" she asked, pointing at the door. Shaun gave another nod, looking nervously at the door. "All right. Let's go see it."
"No!" gasped Shaun. "You have to run away from them." Ace crouched down by the boy; he really did seem frightened. She remembered believing in monsters when she was a child, but she hadn't had anyone to scare them away from under her bed. Now she knew that the monsters really did exist and that they were far worse than anything her imagination had dreamt up.
"It's all right, Shaun," she said softly. "We'll face it together." She took his hand and he stood up. She pushed open the door, and could feel Shaun's hand gripping hers tightly.
Inside the room it as almost exactly as she had expected: a messy eight year old's room, with toys strewn across the floor and a bed sitting by the open window.
What she didn't expect was the monster standing at the foot of the bed.
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The Witch in the Woods
Part One
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Mirabelle Adams sat at the bus stop, holding onto her schoolbag tightly. She wasn't looking forward to school; it wasn't easy being eight years old and having a name like Mirabelle.
As she sat she stared at the house opposite. It had a red door and a well cared for garden surrounded by little stone walls. Shaun Turner lived there, the only other person who caught the 8.35 bus through to Little Chidick, where the nearest primary school was. There weren't many children in the village anymore.
But she hadn't seen Shaun for a week.
She didn't care, not that much, but it was nice to have someone to talk to on the trip, and who didn't think her name was funny. She could go across the road, knock on the door and find out what was wrong herself, but she knew that she wouldn't. It wasn't something she was going to admit, but she was too scared to go. It was Shaun's grandfather that scared her. She had met him once, wide eyes and shockingly white hair and she knew that he was crazy. Even her mum said that he was crazy; he claimed that he had seen the witch in the woods, but that was just some stupid fairy story to scare kids. Mirabelle felt quite proud of herself that the story didn't scare her anymore.
Still, Shaun was okay, and she sometimes felt sorry for him because his parents were dead and he had to live with his crazy old grandfather.
Suddenly, a wheezing noise filled the air. Mirabelle sat up, startled and looked around. That certainly wasn't the bus, not unless something had gone really wrong with the engine. She saw something across the road, just by the little wall next to Shaun's house. Scared, she jumped over the low hedge behind her, into Mrs Robertson's garden, and peered over it, watching.
Just to the left of the little gate appeared a tall blue box, with a flashing light on top. A moment later, a door in the front of it opened and a little man appeared, wearing a straw hat and swinging an umbrella.
"Hurry up, Ace!" he called as he took a long look at the house, then began to stroll down the road. Seconds later a teenager appeared wearing a black bomber jacket and carrying a rucksack.
When they were out of sight, Mirabelle crept out of her hiding place and sat back down at the bus stop. She stared at the blue box that sat across the road, and suddenly felt very, very curious. She may not have believed in fairy stories anymore, but magic was a very different matter. She wasn't too old to believe in that.
There was a distant, rumbling sound, and Mirabelle sighed. That would be the bus. She hoped that the blue box would still be there when she got home.
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The Doctor was grateful for the break, even though he was now knew that it wouldn't be for long. Spending the morning walking around the little village in the English countryside, enjoying the cool air and the bright sun had done him good. He felt refreshed, and even though she had been proclaiming her boredom most of the time, he knew Ace had eventually started to enjoy it as well, probably.
It was a change of scenery, and that scenery had been very calm.
Now he found himself sitting in an armchair in front of a fire, and watching as rain hit the windows of the house - a testament to the unpredictability of British weather. He brought the steaming cup of tea to his lips and took a sip.
Opposite him sat a man who appeared to be in his early sixties. His hairline was receding dramatically, and what was left was a shocking white. His eyes were fixed on the Doctor, and the Doctor gave an almost inaudible sigh. The tea and biscuits and reminiscing had been nice, but seemed to be coming to an end: those eyes were asking questions.
After the walk, he and Ace had returned to the TARDIS, and the Doctor had made sure he was at the right address. It had taken him a few minutes to convince the occupant of the house that he was who he said he was, but the TARDIS had proved to be quite convincing. He hadn't seemed especially surprised to see the Doctor. In fact, when he found out who he was he had seemed to deflate, his features creasing into a frown of sadness.
"Makes sense, I suppose," he had said, and invited the Doctor and Ace inside. The Doctor hadn't pursued what he had said; it wasn't quite time anyway. Monsters only came out at night.
The Doctor had realised what the comment had meant when he saw the newspaper lying on the table in the hallway, just next to the telephone. It was the local weekly, with the headline 'Local Boy goes Missing', emblazoned on the front page along with a picture of the boy and an appeal for information.
He glanced at the chair opposite him.
John Turner was still watching him, his wrinkled hand clasped around his own cup of tea. "So, Doctor," he said. "What are you doing here this time?"
"I think you know," replied the Doctor, placing his cup on the table. John nodded and closed his eyes. For a moment, the Doctor questioned how wise this course of action had been. He didn't need to tell him about this, he could have dealt with it by himself, probably, and John Turner was an old man now. Fit and healthy, yes, but perhaps he should have left him to his peaceful retirement.
He opened his eyes. The Doctor wondered how much effort it had taken John to keep his face that calm.
"The witch is back, isn't she?" he asked. The Doctor's face was serious, his eyes dark.
"Yes," he replied. "She is."
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Ace hadn't realised that there was a kid in the house until she caught him peering over the edge of the banister. Unruly brown curls and a pair of wide eyes were all she saw, before he spotted her watching him and ducked back upstairs. She grinned at that, obviously he was supposed to be in bed, but was curious about what was going on downstairs.
The Doctor and John Turner had seemed engrossed in their conversation. She wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, as she wasn't really paying attention, but it was obvious that they had met before.
She was sitting by the door, and managed to slip out of the room without either of them noticing. The kid wasn't on the stairs. She crept up them, and peered round the corner at the top. There he was, sitting with his back to the wall and wearing striped pyjamas.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes wide.
"Hey, relax," she said, "I'm not going to bite you." His eyes widened even further at that. He really did look quite scared. "I'm Ace," she said, keeping her distance.
"Yeah, I know," he said.
"You were eavesdropping," she said with a grin. The kid smiled back.
"Sort of," he admitted. "I was going to come down, but when I heard that he was here." The boy shrugged.
"You mean the Doctor?" asked Ace. "You don't want to meet him?"
"I do," said the boy. "It's just, well, the stories Grandpa tells. He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"
"The Professor? I suppose he is. What's your name, kid?" He was looking a little less frightened now, and she felt confident enough that he wasn't suddenly going to bolt to sit next to him. His wide eyes looked up at her, and she began to wonder if he just looked like that all the time.
"Shaun Turner." He paused, throwing a glance towards the door opposite. "Ace, do you believe in monsters?"
She looked down at Shaun. He didn't look any older than nine, but there was something very odd about the way he asked that question. She wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't want to lie to him, but the truth would probably be a bit much for a nine year old.
"What kind?" she asked eventually.
"The ones that when they're hidden in shadows they look almost human, but it's just a disguise. They're twisted and dark and ugly." It sounded like he was reciting something that he had been told. He paused to take a deep breath. "Evil things." He looked up at her. "Grandpa doesn't mention it much but I know he's seen a monster, a real one."
"How old are you, Shaun?" asked Ace.
"Eight and three quarters."
"Is that why you're sitting out here, because of monsters?"
He nodded miserably. "Not that kind, I think that's a grown-up monster. But the ones that go bump in the night. It hides under my bed, I think."
"Right now?"
He nodded again. Ace stood up. "Your monster's in there?" she asked, pointing at the door. Shaun gave another nod, looking nervously at the door. "All right. Let's go see it."
"No!" gasped Shaun. "You have to run away from them." Ace crouched down by the boy; he really did seem frightened. She remembered believing in monsters when she was a child, but she hadn't had anyone to scare them away from under her bed. Now she knew that the monsters really did exist and that they were far worse than anything her imagination had dreamt up.
"It's all right, Shaun," she said softly. "We'll face it together." She took his hand and he stood up. She pushed open the door, and could feel Shaun's hand gripping hers tightly.
Inside the room it as almost exactly as she had expected: a messy eight year old's room, with toys strewn across the floor and a bed sitting by the open window.
What she didn't expect was the monster standing at the foot of the bed.
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