Hey guys! Daniel here! For a while, mainly due to extremely limited wifi, I’m going to have to put my reviews on hold; however, I did put a poll on twitter asking if you’d be interested in prose, and a large number of you said yes. So here’s the first part of a short story, called The Passion of Youth, based on the rumour that Bradley Walsh may become the Thirteenth Doctor’s companion. I hope you enjoy the first part!
Considering the vastness and somewhat emptiness of space, it had never really occurred to the Doctor why the vortex seemed so small. Space, as a whole, was infinite, constantly expanding into new areas, new dimensions, creating new universes with billions upon billions of possibilities; yet, every time the Doctor needed to navigate carefully through the vortex, it seemed to be congested. The Doctor, post-regeneration, decided that it was probably safer to try and find Gallifrey and hope that someone there would be able to help. Something wasn’t quite right, something was off with this regeneration, but the Doctor couldn’t put their finger on it. It was then, as the Doctor’s body temporarily spasmed, that they remembered that they didn’t know exactly where Gallifrey was; and, after the last visit, maybe it wasn’t the best place to seek help. Karn it is then. The Sisterhood have been there for the Doctor before, they’ll be there again. That was the plan. The Thirteenth Doctor was going to Karn.
James Tweedle was slumped on the uncomfortable and slightly too small chair that had been provided for him. He’d just turned 18, and facing him was a stern looking elderly woman. James knew he was going to be in trouble. Luckily for him, besides him was his mother, Eleanor, who was attempting to hold a warm, welcoming smile as she looked into the eyes of the elderly woman, who just so happened to be James’ physics teacher.
“Considering that James has already applied to universities,” the woman said, with a slight Irish twinge in her voice, “You’d think that he’d have been putting a lot more effort into the topics we study.”
James’ head rolled back, as he began to stare at the ceiling, his jaw slightly open so he could let out a vaguely audible sigh.
“You see, Mrs Tweedle,” Eleanor interjected, much to the teacher’s surprise, “It’s Miss Blenkinsop actually.”
“You see, Miss Blenkinsop,” the teacher corrected, a slight clearing of her throat indicating that she wasn’t best pleased at being interrupted in the first place, “James is what we call a DEPP. A disengaged pupil with potential.”
James’ head jerked back to facing his teacher after his mum subtly dug her elbow into his hip, as he stared at the ceiling and mouthed along with the meaning for DEPP.
“It’s infuriating as a teacher because James clearly enjoys the subject, he just doesn’t want to learn or participate.”
It seemed as if that statement hit a nerve in James, as his eyes seemingly began to light up, and the corner of a smile appeared on his lips.
“You know, it’s not that I don’t want to learn,” he began, exuding a confidence that could easily be misinterpreted as arrogance and superiority, “it’s just that I don’t want to learn how to pass an exam. I want to learn what interests me. I have a passion for science, and I want to know more about our planet. We know less about our oceans than we do about the rest of the universe, and that’s fascinating to me. I don’t want to know how to answer prewritten questions; as a scientist, it’s supposed to be our job to ask questions we want to discover the answers to.”
It was at that moment that James realised that his little protest speech was a lot louder than he anticipated. The rest of the school hall was silent, desks flanked with teachers, students and parents all seemed to stop to look at him. There was no applause, no divine intervention, nor was there any uproar or disagreement. He had said all he had to say, so he calmly stood up, told his mum he would wait in the car and left.
The Doctor was still in distress. That much was evident from the limbs that were flailing around in the TARDIS console room, which was still partially on fire and crumbling on all sides. The Doctor, for the first time, glanced at their hand which had found solace on the control panel. These hands looked different. The fingers seemed less wrinkled, the skin tighter, and ever so slender… Before the Doctor had the chance to process the new information on their form, they found themselves doubled over in pain. The Doctor’s hand which rested on the control panel struggled to flick a switch, but it seemed that the TARDIS had finally landed. As the Doctor staggered over to the door, they noticed that the boots that their previous incarnation wore were now much too large. Not that it mattered, the TARDIS had a wardrobe. Somewhere. Hopefully it still will have a wardrobe after the ‘incident’. The Doctor clicked their newly slender fingers and the doors swung open. As the Doctor exited the TARDIS, they quickly realised that they hadn’t landed on Karn after all; from a taste of the air, it seemed as if the TARDIS had brought them to Earth. The Doctor was fine with this. They quite liked Earth, and most of the Doctor’s friends heralded from the strange, little planet. The Doctor couldn’t seem to adjust to the light, everything was getting brighter and brighter, a strain on their newly regenerated eyes. Breathing too, seemed to become more and more of an effort, and the breaths got shorter and more drawn out. The TARDIS doors swung closed, and the Doctor was laid on the ground in a lump. Unconscious and alone.