Doctor Who: Twilight Seconds

DOCTOR WHO:

TWILIGHT SECONDS

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS


Disclaimer: Doctor Who is trademarked by the BBC. No profit shall be made from this venture.

Somewhere in the hereafter, you hear the question.

Somehow in the physical world, where you live, where you work, you take the question for granted.

Some person ought to ask you the obvious when you die.

Some angel.

Some God.

Someone you love.

Even some pet.

Yes, pets ought to talk.

You ought to understand a lot more than you tend to cope with and comprehend in normal life.

Nobody likes being put up against a wall.

Nobody likes putting their fist in one either.

That’s the way life is paced though.

You spend every waking hour pounding through the invisible skin of reality.

Accessing different things.

The lucky ones anyway.

Some will never know the way around walking.

Or talking.

Or thinking too clear.

And those blessed with all of that will never quite know what it is to feel that helpless.

Or even mistake it for a blessing.

Life is rough, we need reminding of that.

So that when we punch through the rough diamond, we settle each time.

Letting complacency get the better of us.

And consume us.

Just as I am doing with my stalker.

I’m too slow.

That’s ok.

It’s the long way ’round.

They’ll understand.

Those lords of time.

They’re also lords of patience.

Only mine is close to running out.

I have little time for jokes.

So I permit myself only one.

I look at my streak of failures in this castle so far.

My billion year setbacks.

And I focus on what it was like for the first.

The first Doctor to arrive.

The first to smell the flowers

The first to show off.

The first to get up off his arse.

And the first to take the plunge.

Into the murky blue.

Into the sea of skulls.

The sea of skulls.

There’s something black and white about that.

The first who arose.

The first to warm himself by the fire.

And then the one who left the clothes to dry.

We cast our mind back to who we see in the hereafter.

Some loved one.

Some angel.

Some god.

Some pet.

Yes, pets should talk.

They ask, “Are you decent?”

You look at how you present yourself.

Well…are you?

I am no angel.

I have no desire to be a God.

And I am nobody’s pet.

But I care.

Just enough.

Just enough.

To ask my first self that question.

Because if I cannot break through this reality, I will join them in the next.

And it may just brighten my twilight seconds.

How many seconds in Eternity?

 

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