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Literature Text
You wake on the ground. Your limbs are sore as you stand. You’re not sure where you are, but it looks to you like a hotel. You look round, spotting a staircase. You proceed to go up them, taking careful steps as you stretch your muscles. The stairs seem endless as you climb, that is, until you see a hallway. Walking into it, you can see doors. Just doors, normal doors, with room numbers on the plaques. You wonder, where are all the people? The people that rented rooms in this hotel, where have they gone?
“Hello?” you call out, hoping to get an answer. When you don’t, you panic. You’re in an abandoned hotel on a planet or galaxy or wherever you are that is yet to be known to you. You navigate the doors. Each door has a different number, which aren’t in any particular order. First comes door six, then door thirty. Running your fingers along the plaques, you try to decide whether to open the doors. You don’t know what will happen if you do, but you weren’t going to find out unless you push open the door. You take a deep breath and turn the handle.
“Hello?” you call again. No answer. It’s a normal looking hotel room, with a bed, lamp and bathroom. It’s nothing, you think to yourself. Nothing...
Suddenly, a man walks out of the bathroom, a man with a bowtie. His face is twisted with anger when his eyes fall on you.
“You did this!” he yells menacingly. You don’t know what he’s talking about. You’ve seen him before, even talked to him. You knew who he was.
“Doctor...” you say quietly as tears begin to drip from your eyes.
“It’s your fault!” he screams. “It’s all your fault! It’s always your fault, every time!”
“I’m sorry...”
“Get out! Get out!” You sniff and wipe a tear from your eye. You try to find something to keep you from crying, to keep you from crumbling under his words. “Get out!” You rush towards the door and leave, slamming it shut. You took a deep breath. My God, it was him, you think. It was him. You can feel words build up in your throat, burn on your tongue, but you don’t want to say them. You can’t say them, you’ll lose yourself. You can hear growling to your left. You give in. You have to, there’s no other way.
“Praise him...” you mutter. Your voice gets louder as you repeat it. “Praise him... praise him...” You turn. You can see Him. You can see the God that wants you. The one that is going to gift you with death. You are blinded by Him, the God, the only God. Inside, you scream. You scream for your life, but it doesn’t show. You can’t scream because the worship is taking you over, it controls you now. You are not you anymore, you’re cooked. You’re ready. Ready for Him.
“Hello?” you call out, hoping to get an answer. When you don’t, you panic. You’re in an abandoned hotel on a planet or galaxy or wherever you are that is yet to be known to you. You navigate the doors. Each door has a different number, which aren’t in any particular order. First comes door six, then door thirty. Running your fingers along the plaques, you try to decide whether to open the doors. You don’t know what will happen if you do, but you weren’t going to find out unless you push open the door. You take a deep breath and turn the handle.
“Hello?” you call again. No answer. It’s a normal looking hotel room, with a bed, lamp and bathroom. It’s nothing, you think to yourself. Nothing...
Suddenly, a man walks out of the bathroom, a man with a bowtie. His face is twisted with anger when his eyes fall on you.
“You did this!” he yells menacingly. You don’t know what he’s talking about. You’ve seen him before, even talked to him. You knew who he was.
“Doctor...” you say quietly as tears begin to drip from your eyes.
“It’s your fault!” he screams. “It’s all your fault! It’s always your fault, every time!”
“I’m sorry...”
“Get out! Get out!” You sniff and wipe a tear from your eye. You try to find something to keep you from crying, to keep you from crumbling under his words. “Get out!” You rush towards the door and leave, slamming it shut. You took a deep breath. My God, it was him, you think. It was him. You can feel words build up in your throat, burn on your tongue, but you don’t want to say them. You can’t say them, you’ll lose yourself. You can hear growling to your left. You give in. You have to, there’s no other way.
“Praise him...” you mutter. Your voice gets louder as you repeat it. “Praise him... praise him...” You turn. You can see Him. You can see the God that wants you. The one that is going to gift you with death. You are blinded by Him, the God, the only God. Inside, you scream. You scream for your life, but it doesn’t show. You can’t scream because the worship is taking you over, it controls you now. You are not you anymore, you’re cooked. You’re ready. Ready for Him.
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You were accompanying the Doctor, walking with him just as you'd done many times before. Not much was different from any other time. You were walking a few steps behind him; you always did feel much safer when he was a little ways in front of you.
Your adventures this time had brought you to a town in the middle of essentially nowhere. It was dark; the only light was coming from a scarce few streetlamps dotted around the town, casting a gentle, faded but somewhat eerie glow about the place.
The Doctor and yourself thought you'd seen something off in the distance–in the dense forest that surrounded the outskirts of town–so the tw
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The TARDIS materialized on the street facing your house. You stepped out, shocked when you saw it. "Doctor? Why are we back here...?" He looked down. "_____... I'm... I'm dropping you off at home..." Your stomach dropped. "B-but why!?" "Because..." He answered, still looking down "Its too dangerous for you to be traveling with me... I realize that now... I can't lose you... Not you..." Tears welled up in your eyes. "B-but I don't want to go! I want to stay with you!" You sobbed. He looked up, tears in his eyes as well. "I know... Its the hardest thing I've ever done... But I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you..." He said,
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Claustrophobia
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You tried to recall exactly what led you to be here in this moment. Your brain churned to remember where this all started and how the hell you ended up here. If you recall correctly… it began with a question.
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“What’s going on, Doctor?”
You weren’t quite sure what was happening. One moment he had been leaning on the console and you against the railing of the TARDIS, laughing about a joke about something that was barely important at all and the next you were sent almost to your feet from the sudden jolt. Your hands had gone to grip tight onto the edge of the railin
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I was watching The God Complex with my grandpa (who, sadly, is not a Whovian like me) and I got some ideas brewing, so I wrote this thingy. Bit of suspense. Most likely a, "HOLY TARDIS OF GALLIFREY" type thing. Hopefully, it is the reaction I wish to get from this. I love you. I love me. But unfortunately, I am... something. I don't know. That sentence started out clever, then just turned to rubbish. Whoops. Leave comments and things and I'd love to hear feedback and suggestions!
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