Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Season four: episode seventeen.
The End of Time- Part One of Part One.
- ~ -
It is said that in the final days of planet Earth, everyone had bad dreams. To the west of the north of that world, the human race did gather, in the celebration of a pagan rite, to banish the cold and the dark. Every one of those people had dreamt of the terrible things to come. But they forgot. Because they must.
They forgot their nightmares of fire and war and insanity. They forgot. Except for one.
One lonely old man. Hair as white as the snow that fell, eyes as kind as the sky. He stood still as laughter ripped through his skin, a manic kind of laughter, one that promised malice. He flinched and went to the church─ no darkness could reach him there.
He listened to the hymns of the choir as he studied the stained glass before him. An intricate scene, full of faces and stories never spoken and right there in the left corner, almost completely missable, was a box. A blue one.
His mouth went dry.
"They call it the Legend of the Blue Box," A soft voice spoke from behind him.
He turned to look and found a woman there. Her hair was light brown, her eyes wise, her clothing pure white, almost whiter than the pearls that adorned her neck. Something about her sent a shiver down his spine.
"Oh..." He murmured, looking back at the glass mural, "I've never been in here before. I'm not one for churches - too cold."
He'd only gone into this one because of childish worry. He thought he was over all petty fears as an old man, but no amount of age would shake the fear of the dark, it seemed.
"This was the sight of a convent, back in the 1300s." His gaze was so far away as she spoke to him, "It's said a demon fell from the sky. Then a man appeared. A man in a blue box. They called him the sainted physician. He smote the demon and then disappeared."
"That's a bit of a coincidence," He chuckled softly, staring at the blue box, the one that delivered his granddaughter home and the one that took all her memories with it.
"It's said there's no such thing as a coincidence. Who knows?" She paused, "Perhaps he's coming back."
"Oh, that would make my Christmas," The old man hummed, "Especially if he brought his partner with him."
"Ah. His partner needed to leave him."
He furrowed his brows. Leave him? He turned to question her. He was met only by the cold air of winter, confined in the church walls like a coffin. His eyes darted around for the sight of her, but she was nowhere, like a ghost. He shivered.
