The Silence – Part 5

This is the final part of my Doctor Who fanfiction about the Silence. Last week, Karen discovered it was the Silence that was following her, and Amy Pond told her to find the Doctor.

I turn back to the diary, my hands shaking. I take one more look around the room and, reassured for the moment that I am alone, search the few pages left for an answer.

The next thing I remember, I was walking back to my house with Anthony. The afternoon had been such a blur. I remember eating a muffin, saying good-bye to Mrs. Williams, and now I was here. Still, I felt like I was forgetting something. We arrived at my house, and Anthony gave me a smile and a wave, before turning to walk home.

“See you tomorrow,” I called.

“Bye!” Anthony called back as he rounded the corner.

Digging my door key out of my pocket, my fingers brushed a scrap of paper. I pulled the paper out and unfolded it. There were black marks all over the page and three simple words, “Find the Doctor.”

Suddenly, everything I’d forgotten came flooding back. Huddling on the floor with the Silence surrounding us in Anthony’s apartment, Mrs. William’s instructions, and my absolute terror. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, eager to get inside, though it wasn’t like the Silence couldn’t be in there, too.

I rushed into the living room, calling my parents. “Mother! Father?” I gripped the note in my hand and shouted for them again, but the only response was the echoing of my own voice. There was no sign of my parents, in fact, it was just like I’d left it this morning. Where are they? They’re usually home at this time.

Unsure of what to do, I unfolded the note again and smoothed the paper, rereading it, looking for direction. “Doctor who?” I asked out loud. “How am I supposed to find him? Who knows how many doctors there are in New York?”

I looked up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror and covered my mouth with my hand, a scream stuck in my throat. Tally marks covered every inch of my face. The Silence were here. I didn’t know what to do. Escape? Run? No, they’d just track me down again. What I needed to do was to remember. Mrs. Williams said they’d erase my memory of them. I’d write it all down. That way I couldn’t forget. I raced out of the living room and dashed up the stairs to my room. And that is where I am now. Writing down what happened to me. I don’t want to forget.

That’s where it ended. I look over the faded page. The rest of the page is filled with tally marks, once black but now turned grey with age. There has to be more. There has to be help. How did Karen escape? Desperately, I turn the page, and in my haste I rip it out of the book. Holding it up, scrawled across the page in big, black letters it says,

FIND THE DOCTOR. REMEMBER.

That can’t be it! That can’t be all there is! I pick up the diary again, clawing through the pages. What did I miss?! There has to be an answer! There has to be a way out. The pages bend back, revealing one more page in the diary. My fingers tremble as I yank it free from the binding.

THEY ARE HERE.

Tally marks make the page almost black, they’re so many of them.

“NO!” I shriek. My heart feels like it stops beating for a moment as I realize what that means. Karen never got free. Karen couldn’t escape. “NO!” I stand up, burying my face in my hands. There’s no way out. I’m trapped. I stand, facing the window, trying to collect my panicked thoughts enough to think of a plan.

My eyes catch sight of something moving behind me. I spin around, and there are the Silence. I don’t know how many. They stare at me with their hollow eyes sunk into their long gray faces. The Silence in front of me tilts his head as he raises a three fingered hand.

In that moment I remember my mom. Where was she? Why wasn’t she downstairs? Had they killed her? Trembling, I take a wobbly step backwards, trying to get away from the monsters. Poor Karen never had a chance to find the Doctor, and I don’t think I will either. My boots slip on the edge of the rug, and I twist, catching myself on the window sill.

“What was I doing?” I ask out loud. Sitting on the carpet, I rub my wrist that is aching and red. I don’t remember hitting it. I know I was frightened of something, but of what, I couldn’t remember. It was something about my mom, which is funny because she is downstairs, cleaning. I stand up, dusting myself off, turning towards the window. As I do, I catch sight of my face in the window. It’s covered with tally marks. And then I remember.

Thanks for reading!

~ Kayla

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The Silence – Part 3

Last Tuesday, I posted the second part of my Doctor Who fanfiction about the Silence. Bree had stopped reading Karen’s diary entry, realizing she was being followed, too. I mentioned last week that Karen’s name was a reference to the actress who plays Amy Pond. Well, I snuck in another reference to the show in the date of the diary entry. April 23 is the date that “The Impossible Astronaut,” the episode that introduced the Silence, first aired. There’s another reference, as well, to a deleted scene from the last episode the Ponds were in. Anthony was the name of the son the Ponds adopted, and in my story, he’s Karen’s best friend. Also Kaz, Anthony’s nickname for Karen, is the same as Matt Smith’s (Eleventh Doctor) nickname for Karen Gillan (Amy Pond).

April 23, 1960

Where do I begin? After I finally felt safe enough to come out last night, I went downstairs and saw my parents had come home. They didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. I didn’t sleep much last night and could barely drag myself out of bed for school. I was terrified of walking to school all alone, where that shadow could find me and follow me there, too. I forced myself to do it, though. Some parts of it are very clear in my mind. My pounding heart, my feet hammering against the concrete, fearful of something, but not knowing of what. Most of that walk, however, is just gone, giant blank gaps in my memory. I do remember running into school, stopping by the door, out of breath, trying to remember why I was running and why I was so scared …

I forced myself to breathe normally as I stepped inside the school, pushing past the other students chatting by their lockers. “Anthony!” I called to a brown haired boy putting his extra books in his locker. He turned, hearing my shout, and gave me a wave. I scooted past a group of chattering girls to join Anthony.

He shut his locker door, locked it, and leaned against it. “Hello, Kaz.”

“Kaz” is the nickname he gave me years ago that he uses to drive me crazy. However, I wasn’t in the mood to play games today.

“Anthony, I need to talk to you. I need your help.”

The smile faded on Anthony’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something following me,” I told him in a low whisper, clutching at his arm. “I saw a shadow yesterday while I was walking home. I know it followed me. And the mirror. I saw something in the mirror, but I can’t remember what it was.” The words spilled out of my mouth, one on top of another.

Anthony didn’t say anything for a moment. “Are you sure?” he said slowly.

I nodded. “I know you must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Anthony reassured. “Are you doing anything this afternoon?”

Confused, I shook my head. “I don’t think so, why?”

“I think you need to talk to my parents.” The bell cut our conversation off, and we hurried to our class. I slipped into the seat in front of his, and I felt something poke my arm. I looked down to see a folded paper. I grabbed it, unfolded it, and read the note to myself. “Meet me at my house after school. We’ll talk to my parents there.” Tucking the paper into my pocket, I felt like I could relax, at least a little bit.

I sat through school as best I could, jittery and nervous. When that last bell sounded, I was the first one out the door. I waited outside until Anthony walked up.

“You coming?” he asked, taking my books from me.

“Thanks,” I said as we walked along the street.

“Look, what my parents are going to tell you isn’t going to sound normal. You’re probably not even going to believe them,” Anthony warned.

“At this point, Anthony, I’ll believe anything,” I assured him.

I must have zoned out, because the next thing I remember was passing shop windows and being half-way to Anthony’s house.

“Quick walk,” I commented.

Anthony shrugged, not saying anything.

My eyes rested on the black marks on the back of his hand. “Hey, what’s on your hand?”

Anthony looked down. “It’s noth-” he stopped, staring at the black lines that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Karen,” he said slowly.

“Yes?” I asked, wondering why he sounded so nervous.

“Run,” he whispered, grabbing my hand.

Thanks for reading! Part 4 next week.

~ Kayla

The Silence – Part 2

Last week, I posted the first part of a Doctor Who fanfiction about the Silence. We left off just as Bree opened the diary she had found and read the first sentence from a girl named Karen Helms who claimed she was being followed. I chose the name Karen as a bit of an Easter egg. The actress who plays Amy Pond, the Eleventh Doctor’s companion who also meets the Silence, is named Karen Gillan. I decided it’d be fun to name my character after Ms. Gillan and make the subtle connection back to the show! 🙂

I don’t know by what, and I don’t know by whom. I just know there is someone – or something – following me. I feel like I should write everything down in case something happens to me. It’s a strange feeling, like there’s something over my shoulder, something always watching me. I can’t escape the feeling, even now, in my room, with the door locked.

It started today when I was walking down one of the back streets on my way home. I never use the main sidewalks, if I can help it, since they’re so crowded. It was wet and rainy, and I could see my reflection in the rainwater pooled in the dips of the black asphalt street. Only when I looked down did I realize there was more than just my face and the brick buildings reflected in those puddles. I stopped, staring at the rippling water. Behind, me there was a murky black shape, like a shadow. I looked up quickly, but there was no one there. Nothing was casting that shadow. I started to walk again, much more quickly, staring down into the puddles on the road. From broken reflection to broken reflection, I could see the shadow following me. My stomach twisted into knots as I dashed across the road, and stepped onto the busy New York City sidewalk, pushing through the crowds. I bumped into a few people, who shouted at me angrily, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away from whatever was behind me. I caught a glimpse of a puddle beside me, but there were too many shadows and reflections for me to tell if the shape was still following me. I jogged up the first couple steps to my front door, glancing over my shoulder quickly as I did so. There was nothing behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I inserted the key into the hole and twisted it, opened the door, and relocked it behind me. There. Now no shadows could get in.

I sat my textbooks down on the coffee table. As I did, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror hanging above the fireplace. Looking at the mirror, I had the strangest feeling, like there was something I’d forgotten. Something important, but I couldn’t remember what. I stepped closer to the mirror, putting my hand on the cool glass, trying to remember what I’d forgotten. Suddenly, my stomach twisted in fear, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I knew I had to get out of there, but I didn’t know why. Not even thinking about my decision, I raced up the stairs and flung open the door to my room, shutting it and locking it. I slid down onto the floor, the feeling of terror overwhelming me.

That’s where I am now. My back still against the solid wooden door, writing in this diary. I want to tell someone, but I’m afraid Mom and Dad will only think I’m being silly or playing a prank on them. Maybe I’ll tell Anthony tomorrow. Anthony is one of my closest friends. Most of the others avoid him since his family is …different. No one has ever forgotten the day in seventh grade when he proudly told the class that his parents once met a man from space. Of course, after today, I’d being willing to believe that.

The writing abruptly stops. I flip the page over and find another entry, but it doesn’t pick up where the previous page left off. I’m about to begin reading again, but then I realize my hands are gripping the edge of the book so tightly my knuckles are white. I can almost feel someone’s eyes on me as I sit here, the diary open in my lap. I can’t help but think of Karen as I glance behind me only to find nothing. I’m being followed.

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for part 3 next week.

~Kayla

The Silence – Part 1

I’ve been taking a teen writing class at the library. Every month, I have a new writing prompt about which I’m supposed to write a short story. In October, the prompt was to write a spooky story. Well, one of the spookiest things I can think of is from Doctor Who. The Silence are one of the only Doctor Who monsters that I have been honest-to-goodness scared of. So, I knew my spooky story would have to be about the Silence. Today I’m sharing the first part of that story. I hope you aren’t too scared! 😉

My mom sits the supplies down on the floor and runs her fingers through her hair. “Where to begin?” she sighs.

I look around me at the peeling, ancient wallpaper, the beat up floor, and the cobweb filled curtains and wrinkle my nose at the musty smell. I can easily think of a dozen other things I would rather be doing on this Saturday afternoon than clean out my grandfather’s old house.

“Bree, can you start upstairs to see if there are any boxes we’ve missed?” Mom pulls on yellow rubber gloves. “I’m going to get started in the kitchen.”

“Sure.” The stairs squeak under my weight as I climb the grand staircase to the second floor. The house is being sold soon, and it’s our job to clean and fix it up before it’s put on the market. At the top of the stairs, I stop suddenly. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, my stomach clenches, my heart pounds. I happily visited my grandfather’s house many times in the past, but standing here now, I’m so scared it’s hard to even breathe. I can’t control the urge to look at what’s behind me. I slowly turn my head, glancing back, heart pounding. The only thing I see are the stairs spiraling down. I can’t shake the feeling that there is something behind me, though.

It’s nothing. Just this creepy old house, I tell myself. I’m probably just jumpy because of that scary sci-fi movie I watched last night. Mom always says I have too much imagination.

I can hear Mom’s voice in the kitchen, singing along to one of her favorite songs. My body relaxes, and I feel embarrassed at my reaction. I’m glad nobody saw me, I think. I walk forward, the floors creaking under my feet. The carpet under my brown boots is a faded red color and a style from a bygone age. Hand on the doorknob, I’m about to turn it, when I see a black shape out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head quickly, but there’s nothing there again.

“It’s just an old house. Nothing more. Nothing is living in here,” I tell myself under my breath, but my hands shake as I push the door open. I half expect something to jump out at me, but nothing does to my relief. It’s just a bedroom. I look around, examining the sagging floral wallpaper and the grimy carpet. The meager light from the rainy day makes the four poster bed’s shadows look like monsters climbing the walls. I run my hand over the dust-covered carved wood of the footboard, brushing some of the dirt off onto the floor. Someone must have already cleared this room, because there are no boxes in here. There’s only the bed and a small three drawer chest next to it.

Better check to make sure there’s nothing in there, I think. I kneel down on the floor, and my hands grip the delicate gold handles of the carved cherry wood nightstand, sliding open the first drawer. I reach my hand inside the dark hole, my fingertips brushing the smooth wood. There’s nothing in there. My hands move to the next drawer, and slowly slide it open. I reach my hand in again, and feel something slightly rough. I grip it and pull it out of the darkness to the light. It’s a little book. I run my hands over it, feeling the soft leather of the cover, examining the embossed flowers and birds. I carefully pull back the leather cover, revealing a faded, yellowed page. Like a delicate spider web, the swirly handwriting spirals across the page.

April 22, 1960

My name is Karen Helms. And I am being followed.

Thanks for reading!

~ Kayla