Doctor Who Story Starters

The Curator's Angel

Legend has it theres a statue of angel that has no known origin. Its unknown what people created it, where or even when. The history of The Angel, lost in time. "The Lonely Angel" is what is was called.

The Angel was sought after by most archaeologists, historians and of course curators. Theories float around on the internet and conspiracy theorists go wild over its mysterious existence. You see, the angel is now known as "The Angel of Death". Because after its third proprietor vanished, the most popular theory behind their disappearances was that The Angel did it.

Somehow, it is believed, The Angel is cursed.

The last fifty years it had been kept in a cage. After fifty years behind iron bars in the middle of a world famous curio shop, the shop keeper too disappeared. Just in time for me to graduate uni and become a curator as Ive always dreamt. Just in time for me to acquire "The Angel of Death".

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Walking into work at The London National Gallery, my favorite place in the universe since I was seven, I had a skip in my step as I thought of laying my eyes upon my angel for the first time. They'd only brought it in late last night, after I'd have already gone home.

I skip into my office, pep in my step, and watch as my coworkers are prying open the crate. I squeal and they all glance over at me and grin. They know how excited I have been about this. It would even be fair to say that they were equally as excited.

I pick up my cotton gloves from my work station, and head over to help unpack the beauty. My pride and joy. I slip on my gloves just as the wooden walls of the crate fall down. Packing peanuts spill across the tiled floor and they crunch beneath my Mary Jane loafers as I approach the stone masterpiece in front of me.

"I cant believe its actually here," I nearly whisper, feeling as though I have to be incredibly delicate around the statue.

"All your hard work paid off," Crysti spoke, a wide grin on her face.

She put a hand on my shoulder and we let out soft chuckles. Crysti has been a dear friend of mine since my first year of uni. Shes seven years older than me, having started uni slightly later in life because she had a son, but no age difference ever stopped our friendship growing.

"Not really," began Gregg," you just got lucky."

Gregg is a cranky pants sort of man. Always seems to be in a mood, but as all cranky men are, hes really just a big teddy bear. Just dont let him know you know that about him, he will just get more cranky.

"Yeah, poor fellow died and you're here celebrating."

And thats Phillip. Phillip is a sweetheart. Shy and gentle. Awkward and a bit of a smartass once he opens up to you. All of that and his obvious attractiveness, its no surprise I've fallen for this beautiful man. Not like anything would come of it, we're coworkers after all. At least thats the reason I give myself for not having the courage to confess to him.

"Alright, alright, but I got it, didnt I? The angel's ours!" I cheered and whooped. Crysti and Phillip laugh along with me and Gregg watches us with a small smirk. I sudden go very still and snap into my serious mode.

Adjusting my gloves on my hands I finally look up at The Angel. My Angel. I shiver at the thought, trying to keep my excitement at bay.

I reach out with my left hand and run my gloved index finger down the angel's cheek. So smooth. The stone's cold seeping through my gloves. I cup its cheek.

"Hello, Gorgeous," I whisper to it. I've waited so long for this moment.

"STOP! DONT TOUCH THAT!" A man runs into the room shouting at us.