I still remember the days when adults would smile at childrens' pictures of green blobs - "aliens" - and then turn on the news to see if the astronauts had found anything more out there and so on. My sister liked to draw Martians eating their tea and dancing on the moon and singing happy songs in their spaceship.
And it was her aliens that killed her. Although, of course, they weren't green blobs. They were shop dummies - moving, walking shop dummies. They shot her dead and I can still see her as she crumpled to the floor.
But I was saved. A man, tall and wild-eyed, dressed in a leather jacket that was glittering with shards of glass, pulled me to safety. I don't think I will ever forget the words he said to me then:
"I'm sorry. Now run, run from here and don't you dare look back!"
I was crying as I replied.
"But, but what about you?"
"I'm The Doctor; I'll be fine."
And with that, he was gone and I ran like hell. I'm alive still, but they've been back, the Aliens. They crashed into Big Ben and stormed the skies in their lump of rock, not to mention the people they dragged onto the rooftops...but anyway, they're coming back.
They're coming back to kill us all this time and there's only one person I've ever met who can help us.
I'm praying now, praying for him to come.
Please, I'm begging you: save us, Doctor. Save our souls.