Epilogue: A Mysterious Voice
It was well past twilight, and the few daytime sounds of Leadworth had long since faded into the soft song of the night. Amelia Pond lay in bed, listening to them all—the owl's hoots floating in through the open window, the soft creak of the kitchen door opening, and her parents' hushed voices as they left the house to go to a late showing at the cinema.
And…
Amelia stared at the wall opposite her bed and listened to the whispering that had become just as familiar as the creaky stair her da always forgot to skip. She'd told her parents about the voice at supper that night, but neither of them had really listened to her.
But she could hear it. A man, saying the same word over and over.
Amelia threw back the duvet and rolled out of bed, kneeling on the floor beside it. If her parents wouldn't listen, she needed to talk to someone who would. She rested her clasped hands on the bed and closed her eyes.
A moment later, she opened them again. She was just a kid. Why would anyone listen to her?
Maybe… Grownups always liked it when you started by thanking them for something.
She took a deep breath and clenched her hands tightly. "Dear Santa. Thank you for the dolls and pencils and the fish." Confidence regained, she continued. "It's Easter now, so… I hope I didn't wake you, but honest, it is an emergency."
The man's voice whispered through the room again, and Amelia's eyes flew open. He sounded… scared.
She swallowed hard. "There's… there's someone in my wall. Trapped. My da says that's impossible, but I know it's not, because I hear him talking."
The man's whispers grew fainter, and Amelia's heart thudded. Somehow, she just knew that his time was running out.
"So, please, please, could you send someone to help him?" she begged. "Or a policeman. Or a"—
A strange grinding noise interrupted her prayer. Amelia tried to focus, but the grinding sound was almost immediately followed by a loud thud. She sighed and shook her head.
"Back in a moment," she promised Santa. Then she jumped to her feet and picked up the torch she kept by her bed, so she could see what was happening in the garden.
Her eyes widened when she pushed aside the lace curtain covering the window and peered outside. A tall, blue box was standing next to their garden shed. The light on top winked at her, but most reassuring were the words she could read above the windows.
"Police Box," she whispered.
Amelia exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you, Santa."
AN: At this point, you need to set aside every idea you have about how canon episodes will work in this series. I'm obviously rearranging stories, putting Eleventh Hour ahead of the specials in the next story. And equally obvious, it's not going to be exactly... or even that much... like the canon story. I posted on tumblr (chocolatequeennk) that we are beyond the canon limits. Thank you for reading with me this far, and I hope you enjoy where the series takes us.
