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'Journal of Impossible Things', it had written on the left side. That I remember very sharply, perhaps it was the hours I sat, gazing at that book.
He opened it, pointing out the many creatures and reading out what his fast paced scribbles in elegant font said. It spoke of such strange words- a Tardis. He had fondly told me that it stood for something- he just couldn't remember what.
Amy flipped the page, gazing at a picture which held the exact same page, apparently the second page of the book. There was a strange machine there, a console similar to the one she knew, but it was different. By the ink stains, it was darker, and there were strange arches that looked suspiciously like coral.
There were such monsters and creatures. I remembered stating that he had such an imagination. Looking at a creature that looked almost French, with the words 'Clock men' it had the words 'beautiful' and 'brain' as well as the first name of Madam De Pompadour
'Quite an eye for pretty girls.' I had said, stopping to look at a picture, I looked up at him, pressing my finger on the picture.
Again, I saw the look in his eye, the look of grief and pain. As if he had witnessed so much suffering. He had the same look in his eye that I did when my husband passed away. He knew her, and yet he didn't.
'Oh, that's Rose.' He had sai-
Amy threw the book down, eyes wide as she put two and two together. The messy book inside the case! That was hers!
"But why is hers locked up?" Amy asked aloud, to the Tardis. But the ship didn't respond.
-said. 'She's just a- an invention, a character- Rose I call her, Rose.' He smiled, and yet his eyes grew troubled as he stared at the drawing of the girl, with eyebrows darker then what to be assumed blonde hair- unheard of!
'She disappears later on- she just vanishes…' he muttered, his voice trailing off as a different slightly horse voice filled in- so faint he probably didn't hear it himself. A man shouldn't mourn- I had thought. It was unlikely for one to grow so attached.
I stared at the girl's eyes- kind and yet so hardened, similar to Johns own when he seemed to gaze into nothing, it was strange.
I noticed his pain, so I flipped the pages, looking at rather ghoulish creatures made of shinning metal many guns held in this year. His eyes seemed mad at these for some unknown reason, so I again flipped the page. Smiling at a rather strange ink drawing on the one side.
"Oh! That's his box! The blue box- it's always there. Like a-a magic carpet. A magical blue box which transports me to faraway places." He smiled at this, as if the idea itself was greatly amusing.
I turned the page, and he smiled at the strange pictures of the men there, some half finished showing only their sometimes smiling faces, eyes focused on where my own rest. They were arranged in a strange pattern, a large circle with a nine point star intercrossing rather strangely. The man at the top was shown only on his face- an old man with a stern look, then to the right point there was a younger man with brown hair framing his face. Another and another, men all set up around in the star, my eyes were drawn to the two just closest to the left side of the elder man.
The one just to the left was similar to John, his hair a little less wild, looking like a feral child. His eyes were cold and he was lacking a smile, eyes dark, the next man was unheard of. Dressed in come black cloth that gave his entire attire a look of him going to a funeral- he had short hair and rather large ears. He seemed meaner, glaring at I, and it unnerved me greatly.
Amy frowned; pulling the book away and thinking- were those past regenerations? It would explain so much about him if it was.
"I often think of how wonderful life would be if stories like these were true."
Indeed, I thought, for that would be a blessing. "If only." I had responded, rather sadly.
When I tried to leave, not much later, Martha, his maid chased after me. She was persistent, trying to influence my views on my book, telling me that they were fairy tales, a child's lore. Indeed they may be- but they were interesting.
Then, I asked her what had been troubling me. The way he would look at something and have a gaze that said he forgot something, like there was something needed to be done, but still out of reach.
It was true, more than once I had spotted John looking so, his gaze trailing off into the forest of the windows, or up into the sky, as if searching for something. More than once he had replied with some strange place when he had a wonderful talent. He was able to recite Shakespeare in such a tone of the men themselves. I had asked him once where he had learned such a trait- his face grew puzzled and he had not responded.
A few days since then had passed, I was taking a small stroll in the woods, the cool air allowing my body to relax. As my breath fogged, I saw a light, so sudden and bright I could not help but cry out in surprise. I stared at the light, the brightest of all greens and just as it appeared, it vanished. Then again it glowed, sweeping across the ground not far from where I presently stood before it vanished.
I ran, frightened. Perhaps it was witchcraft?
"Nice try- it's called aliens." Amy muttered, rather finding this book funny.
I hurried towards a nearby pub, rather surprised to see the maid Martha, and another helper, Jenny, if I recall correctly. They sat outside apparently looking in the same direction I had just come.
I had asked them if they had spotted the strange green light, just as John himself excited from the pub I was nearby. I was rather flustered, having him see me in such a terrified state.
He calmly stated that they were meteors as more of the green lights appeared in specks, vanishing among the trees. He then offered to escort me back to the school- who was I to resist.
It was a calm day following- I was alone in the med bay. Working on a few books as a new shipment of medicines had been shipped in. As I read, I frowned, my eyes wandering towards that journal of Johns- and I could not help myself.
As I let my fingers slip over the worn leather, I gently opened the cover, flipping the pages before landing on that picture of his- that girl he drew. Rose, he name was.
There was more than just this one picture, every once in a while, she came up. I noticed this a few pages in when a large grotesque picture of a wolf like creature sat there, there was a little doodled Rose in the bottom corner.
I flipped the pages and there was another, then her name in the margin- then a drawing.
My eyes widened as I yanked out a piece of paper, quickly grabbing some ink and scribbling down the information I had found on this 'Rose' he had mentioned ever so subtly throughout the book.
Amy frowned herself, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, sticking the cap between the teeth as she looked for the information, trying to find out as much as she could about this girl.
'Dreams of her' I wrote down, underlining it rather messily and working onto the next page, copying down key factors and her appearance as well as how much he dreamed of her, and nobody else.
As far as I could tell- she had blonde hair. Some strange gift changed it from brown to this blonde. Her eyes were dark rimmed, unheard of, and brown. Such a deep brown. There was a smile- he often wrote about, when her tongue poked out from between her teeth.
Amy copied this down as well, writing down a slightly different note- bottle blond, and eyeliner.
She dressed in the most inappropriate clothing- showing her legs!
"From our time then." Amy nodded, writing that down.
There was something about slapping- slapping and a sword fight. Not to mention the recurring words I saw almost everywhere- Bad Wolf.
Amy frowned, looking back at the book and once again frowning. She had seen that somewhere, perhaps on TV once? Yes, that must have been it. Bad Wolf, but it was rather strange that the name she recognized.
She closed the book, and walked away.
A few hours later and another adventure with Rory and the Doctor featuring large quantities of running and screaming- Amy was inside her room. Rory was taking a shower to rid himself of a thick mud, while she herself was nice and clean. The best planet yet- the one that worshiped women.
Amy sat with the book on her lap, fingering the pages, after a brief hesitation, she opened to her bookmark- reading quickly. Startled to realize that quite a bit of the book had already gone by.
The next morning I had found John outside, teaching the children to fire guns. Timothy, a young boy was dozing off, as I had caught him several times before when he came in with open wounds from bullying. He blinked, and shivered slightly, before being carried off, I said nothing, as it was not a woman's role to complain.
The guns unhinged me- they killed my husband. They killed many others, they were heartless. Such weaponry in the hands of children…unnerved me.
John noticed my unease and offered to walk in the village with me, as we walked; I explained why my unease was around such metal. Once again he had a look at that- a look of shared anger and hate towards such weapons, but once again, it had vanished, and he merely agreed with me.
We talked, and he started talking about how the world itself had everyday heroes, but his voice was strained as he seemed to be looking at something, I followed his gaze. There were two men, trying to lift an instrument known as a piano, such a wonderful thing. But why did he seem so concerned?
He kept trying to talk, then in one moment he snatched a cricket ball from a nearby child and threw it with such practiced ease it was unsettling. It hit two pipes which fell, then a long collision course rattled on, knocking oil drums onto the ground in front of a nearby infant carriage, just as the piano fell into the spot which would have killed such child and mother.
'Lucky.' He had gasped; eyes wide with surprise as if he didn't even notice what he himself was doing. I remember staring at him, confused and aghast with disbelief and joy.
'That was luck?' I had deadpanned, a smile of disbelief, finding it unexplainably funny.
'Nurse Redfern- might I ask of you to accompany me to the village dance. As my guest' He stated, chest heaving as if he was caught up in the moment, I smiled, still in disbelief at his timing- now? Of all times?
'You're an extraordinary man.' I had said, and we both started laughing, finding this funny. We then walked, leaving the town area to the panic of the near killing.
We walked among the side streets eventually heading out to the walking paths among the picked corn fields. We got onto the topic of his journal- I remember this conversation well among the others actually.
'it's all becoming clear now- the Doctor's a man you wish to be.' I stated, rather proud with my success. After reading and searching, it seemed as if John was this Doctor already- but that drew my attention to that Rose girl, who was she?
We continued on for a while, I stating characteristics of said Doctor while he denied them or added on rather cunning comments.
'Has an eye for the ladies' I pointed out- mostly for that Rose.
'That devil.' He responded with a grin- but faltered, looking at a scarecrow not that far away.
He noticed the scarecrow's rope to his left arm had broken, and we hopped up the cleaned field, he working on the scarecrow and fixing the knot that bonded it.
'Ever the artist- where did you learn to draw?' I asked, wishing to improve my own talents.
'Galifrey.' He responded, not a slight jump to his voice, my smile faltered ever so slightly, I had never even heard of this strange place.
'Is that in Ireland?' I asked, the name seemed slightly as of there. He paused, thinking, much too long for a man who had visited this place to learn to draw as such.
'Yes- it must be.' He concluded, causing my suspicions of something I did not know to rise again.
He told me of his parents- his father Sydney the watchmaker. And his mother, Verity who was a nurse much like myself.
It was a charming afternoon- really.
Amy stopped reading at this point, hearing Rory come closer to our door. She slipped the book inside her pillow, and peeked over the edge of the top bunk.
After saying goodnight, he flicked the light off, and Amy lay against the pillow, thinking.
She couldn't help but wonder who that Rose was also.
x-(X)-x
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