They Came On Wings Like Angels...



2. ...

Breathe in.



Run on the spot.

Close eyes.

Open eyes.


This is my usual routine whenever I'm stressed. Sadly, the Madman says it won't work. Great. That's the only thing that reminds me of my sanity. I'm holding my school bag tightly as we run away from whatever it is we're running from. School's supposed to get you ready for the rest of your life. They lied big time. I checked.

“Are you ready, Fraser?” the Madman asks.

I shake my head.

“Good,” he continues. “Now, have you ever encountered these before?”

I shake my head again. It's like I'm on repeat. Ever since I'd stepped outside the school gates and this psycho came along I've been questioning what anything means anymore.

“Better not worry you then, not that you should be worried...I'm the Doctor,” he says. “And I'm going to drop you off here so you're safe.”

“Doctor who?” I sling my bag over my shoulder and pull out my phone to see if mum has been calling me.

“Exactly,” the Madman replies. “I'd advise you not to open any window or have any blind hanging up. Okay? Good bye.”

“W-wait! Where do you think you’re going?” I ask.

“Oh. To my TARDIS. We probably ran past it. Police box. Blue. Anyway, I need to go investigate the perimeter. This is exciting!” The Doctor runs off.

I blink to try and calm myself. Do not freak out. Take control. I fumble around for my house keys and open the door. My home is silent when I step into the entrance hall. “Mum?” I call.

No reply.

“Mum?!” I search the loungeroom and her bedroom but she's not anywhere.

There's some fruit on the bench when I enter the kitchen. The washing-machine is still on. She must've gone somewhere.

“Darling? You're home early,” a voice from the roof says.

I smile. Good. At least something's normal. Scatterbrained as she is, Mum's usually up in the attic trying to sort things for no apparent reason. “This man offered to take me home,” I say.

“A man? What's his name?”

Mum's paranoid about stranger danger. So am I for that matter but he didn't really give me a choice. I mean what person has the name, Doctor. “I don't know,” I reply, munching into an apple. “He just says he's a doctor.”

There's no reply this time. Just silence.

“Mum?” I dump my bag on the kitchen floor.

“Sorry, honey. I had trouble lifting something. Could you help me?”

“Sure.” The staircase into the attic is situated right at the end of the corridor. It's old and creaky and rotting in some places. The wood groans under the weight of my feet. It's dark when I hop up through the trapdoor. I switch on the lights. “Mum?” I blink to try and adjust my eyes to the gloom that shrouds the back of the attic. Something moves. It's like it's getting closer every time I blink.

“Sorry, honey. I had trouble lifting something. Could you help me?”

I take a step back as a stone figure comes into view but it keeps advancing. I can't see it's eyes because they're covered by its hands. Then it lifts its arms up and bares its sharp teeth.

“Fraser I’m back.” the Doctor jumps out of nowhere and blocks the view of the corner of my eye. “Don't move. Don't blink. No! Don't close your eyes. Keep them open.”

I stare at the stone angel standing infront of us. “W-what is that?”

“That is a Weeping Angel,” the Doctor explains.

“W-where's my mum?” I watch the Doctor as he pulls a screw driver type thing out of a jacket pocket and begins circling the Weeping Angel.

“That. I cannot tell,” the Doctor concludes. “Fraser? What's wrong with your eyes?”

I frown. “I dunno.” I rub them and I feel something coarse rubbing against my skin. Sand. “How did-”

“Fraser did you close your eyes?” The Doctor steps forward cautiously. “When I picked up at school. Did you or did you not close your eyes?!”

“I don't know!” I say defensively. “Geez.”

12: 50pm LUNCH TIME

It was just hanging there. The photo of the angel. It was beautifully captured with the sun rays splashing across the grief-stricken face. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. My friends had all gone out to play football, leaving me alone in the hall. I didn't know why the angel was crying or why is mottled gray. I blinked, trying to imagine it smiling at me through the gleam of the paper. Then the Doctor appeared and I had to leave it in the hall, alone once more.

“I might've closed my eyes a few times. You can't seriously not expect me to blink can you?” I demand. “Ah, this is so annoying!” It's like sandpaper is rubbing across my eyes. I run a hand down my face. When I pull it away all I can see is stone. My hand is stone. “DOCTOR!”

The Weeping Angel moves an inch closer when I blink to try and stop the flow of sand. “Doctor, what's happening to me?” I put my hand on a discarded carton and its like it melts into the wood. The skin won't break free. “I can't move my hand.”

“Listen to me, Fraser. An image of an angel becomes an angel. That image is inside your head,” the Doctor taps my head, “and so you're going to turn into one of them.”

“What?” I yelp. I frantically tug at my hand to no prevail.

The Weeping Angel creeps closer.

“Unless you lose your memory from this past day,” the Doctor ponders. I notice he stands side-on as if keeping an eye on the angel.

“Come on. Knock me out. Whatever! I just don't want to turn into stone!” I kick at the carton but I almost tip over with it.


“Okay,” the Doctor says. He brings out the screw-driver that he had before. “This is my sonic screw-driver. Now, this won't hurt a bit.” He brings the glowing tip toward my forehead.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Biggest mistake I ever made. “DOCTOR!” I scream.

The Angel reaches out and taps my shoulder.

I drop into a giant black hole. It envelopes me in a dark void. And then I wake up on the floor of a Hotel lobby. It's day. My hand is back to normal and my eyes don't itch. I scramble to my feet and look around. The sound of footsteps make me turn. A red-head lady and her husband come walking down the staircase.

“Where am I?” I ask.

They stare at me.

“The Doctor never told me,” I add.

The red-head steps forward. She smiles. “You know the Doctor?” she asks in a Scottish accent.

I nod. “Do you?”

“Of course. My name's Amy Pond and this is Rory, my husband. We used to travel with the Doctor,” Amy says. She doesn’t look like she actually thinks I’m actually real.

“Can he...can he help us here?” I stammer.

Rory shakes his head. “We aren't even supposed to exist really. But I don't want to scare you. You look too frightened as it is.”

Amy looks sympathetically at me. “You see, we're stuck in the Winter Quay Hotel and-”

The room flickers like it's a hologram. I turn back to Amy and Rory but they aren't there anymore. Only two Weeping Angels. I cry out in alarm. What’s going on?!

“There’s no escape,” one of the Angels say in Amy's voice.

I shake my head in an attempt to clear it but when I look down at my hands they are gray and grainy. Uh oh.

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