Disclaimer: I do not own/write/act in the marvelous television series known as Doctor Who.
Blue Box #7
Shards
The East Coast in the sixties was a lovely place to be. Families were happy and laughing. Bathing suits were colorful. Girls danced in circles in the hot sand. Little boys threw mud at each other. The Doctor has gone on an all out spree to take me to the most amazing places. I guess he's trying to get me out of this weird funk I've been in ever since... Ever since I lost it. I don't really understand what happened. But it was me that was imagining things. It was me that was seeing things. I'm the one thats got to be crazy.
"Come on!" the Doctor was chasing little children in the surf. Gah. Somethings never change. I smiled and ran in after him. Maybe there really is nothing wrong with me. Whatever it is, I should just put it out of my head and enjoy the day. After all, how many chances do I have to dunk the Doctor?
The day was waning away. The sun was almost gone, leaving a lovely watercolor effect in the sky for us to remember it by. The Doctor had purchased two popsicles- one for me to eat like a normal person and one for him to throw across the beach when it started dripping on him. The Doctor was up ahead now, picking at seashells. Today had been good. Ouch. Today had been good until I'd stabbed my foot with something. I looked down. What was that? A sharp piece of shell? An angry crab's pinchers? What? Oh. A piece of glass. Damn litterbugs. I pulled it out of my big toe and winced when it began to bleed. Just what I need. I took a step. "Ah!" Another piece of glass. "Really?" I muttered. I looked around. What were they doing, fighting with glass bottles? Must have been. There was several more glass shards all around me. I looked up. They were everywhere. Sharp shards of glass jutting up haphazardly out of the sand as far as they eye could see. A hundred feet in front of me the Doctor was stepping on the glass. I could see his feet bleeding.
"Doctor!" I shouted. Why was he still walking? He was going to hurt himself.
He turned around. "What? Did you find a particularly good shell?"
"Doctor, your feet!"
He looked down. "What about my feet?"
"They're bleeding you bleeding idiot!"
"My feet are fine! Oh! Did you mean the heat? Is it too hot? We can leave if you want. Sorry about the mishap. The surf is pretty loud you know!" He nodded at me expectantly.
Why wasn't he noticing what was wrong? This was just like when I imagined the glass on the TARDIS.
Oh.
I looked down. The glass was gone. My foot wasn't bleeding. Everything was fine.
Everything was fine except for me.
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