The Light of Gravity [Doctor Who]

Chapter 1

My brunet sister Valeria pressed the ginger bread walls together. I rose my eyebrows at her; why was she creating an upright rectangular gingerbread house?

She saw me watch her from time to time. “Guess what, Zandra?” Her eyes beamed as if the star that goes on top on a tree was lit five days earlier. 

I shrugged my shoulders and approached the pile of fresh baked gingerbread cookies. “What?”

“On my way to school I noticed a blue police box!”

“What’s a police box?” I scolded. She would always mess my head with foolishness. My cheeks felt the steam coming out of me instead of the fresh baked cookies.  

“A police phone box used in England throughout the twentieth century,” She smiled, while she skipped towards the fridge for a bowl of blue frosting. At one bite the gingerbread cookies tasted like brittle sand bars. I spitted out the remains into a napkin.

“What the hell was there a blue box in Minnesota? Pshaw.” This time I got up to glance at the dry-up police model. Next to it there was another tray; this time sugar flat biscuit. Now these were my favorite!

“How would I know?” Valeria asked.

Without waiting for me to boom her with other questions and whipped out a small spatula, dipped into the blue cream and painted the walls blue. It was ocean blue. The navy blue reminded me of the sky. I remembered a dream I had long ago where the navy blue space carried an infinite of stars that seem to shine incessantly. In my dream I approached the last star, dying, I pushed my hair away from my face. A blue police box and an extending hand I couldn’t keep up. He repeated “No one will forget you!” And bam! I returned to the kitchen.

My sister pulled out another tray from the oven; chocolate chip cookies. I blurted out, “But that’s impossible.” Both for what I experienced in the fifth dimension and the delicious masterpiece she just baked. 

“I’m telling the truth!” Valeria flabbergasted as I took one of her freshly baked cookies from the steamy tray. She smacked my hand. 

“Ow!” This time my hands were as pink as my cheeks.

“Those are for the party later!”

My eyes focused on my sister, in flour powdered cheeks and dressed in a regular t-shirt and jeans and above that a red apron. After she noticed that I didn't released the poor baked soul, she shook her head and spread more of her fantasy into the gingerbread. 

I contemplated whether I should take another cookie or seek my memories for the blue box.

“Hey! Stop staring into space! Help me set the hot chocolate machine in the living room,” my sister snapped as the blueness in my mind faded. 

My sister’s flats slammed softly as she hurried off to open the door for our guests.  I removed the crumbs of the table and paced towards the flour covered kitchen. My god! I couldn’t believe she managed this mess on her own! From my peripheral view, more and more people entered the cinnamon scented casa.  

My mind flew past actions with no hesitation.  I spotted the metal jar and reached for it. As my hand grasped onto the handle for a facile grip, my fingers bumped into the metal surface.  

“Ah!” I yelped and released the silver apparatus.  I flexed my fingers to soften the numbness from the tips, as if warming up my fingers from frost bites.  As I was doing that I noticed that I had deliberately let go of the hot cocoa machine. But it didn’t crash into the white oak floor. It began to fly towards the stove. I wanted to see it smash into the stove but I heard a pair of footsteps approach.  The moment that the machine was suppose to collide it rushed to the counter where I was begging it to land in another universe.

I winced when I noticed that The party is at her house. She wears a vintage sweater, she cuts shook and rubbed my my wrists as I noticed the appliance abide to my thoughts.  The moment I wanted to say “What the hell”, the soft steps from the strangers’ boots stopped.  

“Hey, where are the mugs?” One of my sister’s guests asked. 

I fumbled through my thoughts as I remain rooted into the ground. It was as if I was relentlessly planted there.  I wanted to tell him the location of the mugs, but I had “What the hell” caged behind my teeth. So I pointed onto the cupboards above the stove. 

“Thanks!” He stepped forward and pulled out a couple of santa mugs.  The scrutinized the mugs and I hoped that they wouldn’t fall. But as the stranger reached for a couple his bare arms swung from the machine’s hot touch.

The stranger expelled, “Help I need a hand here!” I stepped forward but he shook his head.  “Someone is coming.” 

I wanted to help and I knew that I was in control where the chocolate machine would land. 

I nodded at the direction of the mugs, distorted my lips into a grimace. I began to walk away from the kitchen when the porcelain cups fell into my spell. I collected my Chesterfield coat and entered the spacious living room. I wanted to stop the waterfall of mugs but my mind felt the vibrations fade away. My arms shuddered, so I stopped thinking about it. As I travelled towards my exit, my ears collected phrases.

“What happened?!” A party goer cried out.

“The mugs rained down!” The same boy from the kitchen responded. 

“Where’s the hot chocolate, Zandra?” My sister asked.

“In the kitchen. I was about to bring, until the cups crashed down. Anyway, I will go down to the small pharmacy shop for some styrofoam cups,” I responded as I caught some of the disturb faces. Some twisted their necks, trying to loss the notting from the sudden crash of porcelain. 

I wanted to tell them what happened, but they wouldn’t believe me. I’m insane. 

I pushed the door into the blinding, wintery air. I walked down the street and watched the bright lamp posts. My hands began to shake along with the lamp posts. The shining lights started to twitched. Stop! Stop! As I speeded down the next few streets, the tree branches waved compulsively, as if I was pulling some their souls from them.

I blurted, “What the—What the hell!” My words jump from my lips and flew with my warm breath, dancing with the CO2 particles. It was one cold inferno.