The Boy Who Sang About the Stars

Chapter 21

I pad down the hallway walking beside the red headed Dalek slave towards my Chamber. I've walked this path so many times that I'm amazed I haven't worn a hole through the slick metallic material. We walk the same path as usual. Although the all the walls and doorways appear the same to me, I've come to know them fairly well.

Today is the 200th day I've been prisoner of the Daleks.

For the 175th time since I arrived we stop in fromt of the grey paneled door that reeks of hot metal and motor oil. The slave places her hand onto the doorframe and the panels slide up into the ceiling to reveal the blank white Chamber. Without being told I walk in and sit down in the far left corner and bring my knees up to my chest, staring blankly at the wall in front of me.

When the door closes it blends in with the walls, making the Chamber feel as if I am sitting in an endless abyss of white nothing. I listen for the telltale hiss of the hidden vents that signal the beginning of my daily torture.

I count the seconds, which turn into minutes, before I hear the snakelike hiss come from above me. Immediately I shut my eyes as tightly as I can and do my best to steady my breathing. I've been exposed to the mysterious purple gas for so long now that my body has built an immunity and I no longer black out only to find myself sitting back in my drab cell. Although the immunity is present I've found that steadying my breathing helps to cope with the panic that comes with facing the hallucinatic nightmares that appear.

The gas smells sickeningly sweet, and when a wisp snakes it's way into my nostrils it takes all my will power to keep myself from coughing. I bury my face in my knees and try to focus on something positive to take my mind off of the situation.

I think about the time when the Doctor took me to the North Pole back on earth. I think about the bitter cold that was subdues by the breathtaking Northern Lights above our heads. The colors mixed and swirled like colored ink running through a current of water.

The memory feels old and distant, and it soon fades like the ending of an old worn out film strip. I try and think of something else positive to focus on. Almost immediately I begin thinking of Clara.

It's amazing how quickly I formed a bond with that young girl. I guess being stranded and on the run will bond two people together in an unusual way. I feel a small smile creep onto my lips when I think of her sassy come backs and her small brown eyes rolling back into her head when I said something stupid.

I'm not sure how long I reply the memories the seven year old and I shared, but at some point I find myself cracking my eyes open. I shift my gaze from my knees to the Chamber around me. The purple gas still swirls in the air, but it's completley free of anything unusual.

I shrug and rest my head back down and start trying to find something else to think about when I hear a small cough next to me. I know I am alone, so the sound startles me and I look over to see Claras small figure sitting next to me on the floor.

She looks up at me and she smiles. "This stuff smells awful."

I don't say anything. I know she isn't real, nothing in this room is real. In fact, I'm not even sure if I'm real anymore. I scoot closer to the wall and away from the young girl beside me.

Clara tilts her head and examines me. "You need a hair cut, you look like one of those dudes in those rock bands back home. You also have weird brownish stuff on your face, it looks like chocolate powder"

I shake my head. "I've finally gone crazy." my voice comes out scratchy from not talking in over four months. I laugh at myself and bury my face in my hands. "It's finally happened."

"You've always been weird. You sang a song to me about ballets in the sky, you also disappeared when you walked into a blue box. You're like...the ultimate weird person."