The first contribution of the new year, and a magical one it is! Enjoy this delightful piece of flash fiction, courtesy of Colleen from Silver Threading 🙂
For this week’s menagerie post, Louise wrote a Doctor Who fanfiction story for prompt two. I’ve shared it below, but you can go to the original post and Louise’s site here.
The Gallifreyan Tearheart Chapter 1 – A Doctor Who Fanfiction Piece by Louise Findlay
The silly old fool. Did he really believe I was dead? I was far too careful for that. I wasn’t a madman like him. The last TARDIS in existence (in this universe) materialised before me. What the Rassilion was Theta’s Type 40 TARDIS doing here? I clicked my fingers and strode in. The door opened for me as it would for any Time Lord or Lady unless specified by the designated pilot. I would’ve really thought he’d block me but then again he did think I was dead.
No, he didn’t. He’d gone off in a huff again and left a Last Will and Testament to boot. I tried to get the TARDIS to lock onto him but she wasn’t budging. He’d probably ordered her not to find him. I couldn’t override the pilot’s orders. I’d better get that snivelling companion, Clara instead. She may know his regular haunts. Regeneration did change a person and I wasn’t that well acquainted with his 12th self yet.
At least the controls weren’t locked to me. You think he would’ve learned from last time when I cannibalised it. Not that I would turn it into a paradox machine again. Oh no. The drums were gone now. My female regeneration locked my psychosis in and now I was permanently mad. What can I say? I revel in a little chaos. I wasn’t totally mad per se but more mentally challenged. I still had the overwhelming urge to destroy but I could tone it down a little. The mind-shattered drums were no more and now I could be even lucid for a short period of time. I could control myself and my madness. A lot like River Song and her 3rd life. She gained the mental fortitude to stave off her psychopathy and I was just beginning to regain control. As I said before, regeneration changes a person.
“How on earth are you here? You died? What on earth have you done?” Clara asked.
Oh those incessant questions. Just why I hated humans. I never did get why Theta loved them so much. We were much smarter than them and they had that annoying lifespan. They died before we ever reached the end of our first life.
“This is a confession dial. The TARDIS and it came to me as I’m his dearest friend alive. It’s a record of all your sins and confessions. The things you would never say unless you were close to the end. It’s the Doctor’s Last Will and Testament” I said.
“Dearest friend? You tried to kill him. What does it say?” Clara asked.
“He’s tried to kill me. It’s a meeting of minds. A challenge of our mental fortitude. I don’t know. I can’t open it. Only his Vlamore can” I answered.
Only the true match of a Time Lord/Lady could open their confession dial. It prevented Gallifreyans from rival houses to learn all of your despicable deeds.
“Vla… Vla what?” Clara struggled to pronounce.
“Vlamore. It’s Gallifreyan for partner heart. It can only be opened by the Time Lord or Lady his twin hearts truly beat for” I said.
I knew it instantly when I saw him with her on some video footage. They were vlamore. A perfect Time Lord and Lady match. The way he looked at her like she was his entire world and the way she would systematically look at every exit in an attempt to protect him in every way she possibly could. How she would kill every enemy and just as the last one dropped dead on the floor ask if he was unharmed. They were vlamore.
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For this week’s menagerie post, Louise wrote a RED fanfiction story for prompt two. I’ve shared it below, but you can go to the original post and Louise’s site here.
The Epic Struggle to Grow a Plant – A RED Fanfic by Louise Findlay
“Frank, what is so urgent and why do you have a bonsai plant?” I asked.
I was his next door neighbour but we saw each other about once a week. I did happen to take up quite a few contracts that my sister passed my way though so I wasn’t home a lot. How Frank managed the whole domestic living thing I don’t know. I couldn’t survive in my house with nothing to do all day. Luckily I still retained a membership to the Contract Killers Society. Contract Killers Weekly was such a great magazine. I could brush up on my technique and it relieved boredom.
“I need some gardening tips” he said.
“Gardening tips? Since when were you a gardener? How am I supposed to know anything about plants?” I said in disbelief.
What on earth? Frank never expressed an interest in gardening before. I certainly didn’t know anything about plants apart from how to hack them apart.
“Your sister’s a keen gardener” he retorted.
“That doesn’t make me one” I replied.
While Victoria was content living in high society, I was not. Not that she could hang up a gun as much as I could. Even an English lady needed to have an outlet.
“Why are you suddenly obsessed with growing a plant anyway?” I asked.
Something must have sparked this interest in him. He certainly had no green fingers before.
“I wanted to have a hobby. You know to relieve boredom” he lied.
No no no. Frank Moses couldn’t lie to me. I have an in-built Frank Moses lie detector. You relieve boredom by going to a shooting range. Not waiting for a plant to grow for hours on end.
“You’re lying, Frank. Don’t try to deny it. Why are you so interested in horticulture?” I asked.
“There. There may be. There may be a girl” he slowly admitted.
Oh god. Not another Katya. Katya Petrokovich was an utter bitch. Damn her Russian suave that ensnared Frank. He was utterly clueless about the fact she was KGB. I did try to warn him but of course he didn’t listen. Love was Frank’s greatest weakness. I loved him myself but I could never tell him that. His interest in me was only platonic. He never made any advances towards me like he did with his other girlfriends. I satisfied myself with keeping him safe. Well as relatively safe as anyone could be if you were an operative. I will admit I did and do project my hate onto any of his admirers. Katya, I admit is adept at ensnaring men.
“Who?” I demanded to know.
I made it my business to vet his admirers. I did my best with Katya but he wouldn’t listen.
“Her name’s Sarah. Sarah Ross. She works in pension services” he said.
“What? A civilian? You’re in love with a civilian?” I asked in disbelief.
I couldn’t believe this. He’d fallen for an ordinary run of the mill woman? He’d allowed his romantic fantasies to cloud his judgement. He was an operative through and through just like me. He might do a good job now of giving up his occupation but I could tell how restless he was getting. How long before he would snap and pick up a rifle? He would never be able to tell his girlfriend what he actually did for a living. The CIA laws prevented it. He would be hunted down and killed otherwise. We were RED. Retired: Extremely Dangerous. Not that the CIA was in habit of letting secrets out. There were a clandestine agency after all. If we let one secret spill then we were dead. Simple as. We were too good to be comprised. We may be retired but part of the contract we signed up for was to be able to be called upon in the event of a national emergency no matter what our condition. That code was still in effect now.
“Yes, I am. You have a problem with that?” He asked, angrily.
“Yes. As a matter of fact I do. Your whole relationship will be based on lies, Frank. They say honesty is the best policy in them. You will never be able to pick up another contract or go to the shooting range. What happens when someone tracks you down and tries to kill you? You’ll be putting Sarah in danger everyday but being with her and she’ll never know. Even if you tell her, which you can’t, she’ll never truly understand the risks” I ranted.
A relationship between an operative and a civilian was doomed to fail. There would be so many secrets and a whole part of your life you could never tell you partner and that they would never understand. A relationship couldn’t withstand that.
“I can see whoever I damn like. Stuck sticking your nose in my private affairs, Tare” he demanded.
“Fine, I will. Goodbye” I shouted.
I always tried to look out for him and look where it got me. He wouldn’t be seeing me anytime soon. I was taking a long extended holiday. One with murder, mystery and intrigue. Also one with hopefully a large pay check.
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This week’s entry from R. Todd will have you on the edge of your seat – hold on tight! 😀
He paced the antechamber; tormented by the echoes of all who had come before him. Echoes of voices that warned him to get out, and get out now. His brow furrowed as he paced, rubbing his hands together, knowing that he should listen to the voices, but knowing full well, if it weren’t him that stopped this evil, then who would. No, resolution was not his strong point, but her had to make the stand. For them.
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A moving story by R. Todd this week – a delightful read. Be sure not to miss it.
I missed the sunlight, and the rain on my skin, the wind in my hair; I missed it all. But most of all, I missed her. And the most terrible thing, the thing I feared more than death itself, was going to sleep at night. Not because of what might happen to me and not because of the nightmares that my mind replayed of the day’s torture, but because, sleep meant another day would pass, and another morning would come, another moment where my mind would forget just a little bit more of her face; the way she smiled; the sparkle in her eye; the curve of her lips.
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Sarah or Tare. It was such a hard decision. I knew if I spurned Tare, Victoria would kill me for breaking her sister’s heart. She’d probably succeed. No one had underestimated Victoria Winsler and lived to tell the tale.
Sarah was so kind and caring. She made me think I could actually have a normal life. Tare, on the other hand had been my friend for years. We’d saved each other’s lives countless times. I always knew I could count on her to have my back.
Really it was a toss between the lives I wanted. I couldn’t be a contract killer and stay with Sarah. She wouldn’t be able to deal with all the violence and I would be putting her in harm’s way. Tare couldn’t handle a normal life. She was a warrior and hooked on the adrenaline rush. She was incapable of adjusting like Victoria had and I knew it. She would get too restless and eventually snap or would get a mundane job which would kill her spirit.
Ultimately it was a question of who I loved the most. Deep in my heart I knew it was Tare. I loved the idea of having a normal life and I knew Sarah could give me that but I didn’t love her. I would just be condemning myself to a live of what ifs. I had been with the CIA nearly all my life and I wasn’t going to stop being a killer now. Victoria was right. It wasn’t like you could switch a button. I’d been trained as an operative and I couldn’t just stop being one.
Being with Tare would make me happier than Sarah ever would. Tare knew that. I guess that’s why she’d been warning me away from Sarah. I’d been trying to change for her. Restraining myself nearly got ourselves killed by the CIA. I would get us all killed if I kept Sarah with me. She deserved a normal life where people weren’t trying to kill her because of her association with me.
Tare would be ecstatic when I told her. She’d never been discreet about her hatred towards Sarah but she always protected her. If you were an operative then there generally was two things you needed in a partner. One was for them to be an operative too. Civilians never understood our lifestyle and the reasons why we risked our lives. Two was for them to have a heart. Being in the business of death took its toll in the worst way. It could turn the most caring person in the world to an emotionless killer. One was easy but two was not. Tare was both. A rarity.
Check out this wonderful contribution by Elusive Trope – a mark of new beginnings 😀
Another entertaining tale from R. Todd. I really enjoyed the humour in this piece.
I awoke at precisely 3.02 a.m., my internal alarm screaming at me – something was wrong. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and pressed the home button, the light blinding me and causing me to squint as I checked the time. Rubbing my eyes, I listened, wondering what it was that could have woken me.
Over the whirring and knocking of the off-balanced ceiling fan that I had been meaning to fix for three years, I could barely hear the crying coming from the bathroom. I slide my hand to my wife’s side of the bed, and felt sheets where her body should have been, not that I needed to confirm it was her in our bathroom, but kind of hoping I was just hearing things, too. Sitting up on my elbow, I called out to her, “Maggie, are you ok?”
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Don’t miss this thrilling short story by R. Todd. It’s an emotive tale 😀
Malevolence swirled in the air; it coated my skin like an oily residue of evil. It drew me deeper in, preying on the hatred and anger I harbored for years, and like a fire raging out of control, it consumed me on the inside. My eyes boiled, my breath deepened, my chest swelled and my heart beat loudly in my ears. My hand gripped the handle of the sword, fingers flexing reflexively on the leather-covered grip.
I relished in the weight, feeling the heaviness of my weapon of warfare, knowing that it hungered for battle just as much as I did. I hunched down, my legs swelling with power as I prepared to launch myself into the fray, to become one with the dance of death and to unleash the destruction that bound up inside of me.
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This week, in response to prompt 2 (Re-write the ending to one of your favourite movies), Louise wrote a special scene for us combining Harry Potter and M.I. High. I have provided a preview below, but to read the fully story, click here.
THE GOBLET OF STARS: EXCERPT OF CHAPTER 1 – A HARRY POTTER/M.I. HIGH FANFICTION PIECE
1. Joining the Dark Lord’s Side
Agh. My dark mark had been flaring up all year. I clutched my forearm as my brand ignited. This was the real thing. The Dark Lord had come to life again. I would have to go to him. He would hunt me down and the people I loved if I didn’t. I endured many sleepless nights pondering what I would do when he was resurrected.
The call came at the worst possible time. I was heading a mission trying to prevent a nuclear launch and Frank was about to get his head scrambled.
“Frank, no. I’ve got to go. Capture someone else and get them into that chair” I said.
I hated having to abandon them like this but I had to. I hope he managed to swear his team to secrecy. I did not want to explain this to MI9.
“What? Why? Oh. Stella, please don’t go” he pleaded.
“We agreed, Frank. If I don’t, I’ll be putting your life in danger” I protested.
“Be careful. The password’s libertà stellato” he replied.
Starry freedom. I hoped to god that Frank would be available to tend to my wounds but if he wasn’t then I could gain access to his potions store. I tended to overdose myself on pain potions and dreamless sleep. Through my dark mark, the Dark Lord could always plague my nightmares even when I was on a normal amount of dreamless sleep. I was hopeless at Occulmency and my method of defending my mind through attacking with legilimency only really worked on the Dark Lord when I was awake. I was sadly not blessed with a talent for Occulmency like Professor Snape.
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