Doctor Who Club of Australia

[uhumanite]

As many will be aware the winner of the Big Finish competition has been finaly revealed and the runners up.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/news/cult/news/drwho/2007/06/19/46091.shtml

This is the place where Australian writers can share their submitted stories, review and give feed back on what has been posted and generate support.

We all have a story to tell and if you have a bit of fan fiction to share then post it

The Key rule is to post a story you have to review another as this is a guidence and support thread.

Read, enjoy and review

"Do you want to come with me?"

[uhumanite]

I thought I'd start off with my failed entery

DOCTOR WHO: A QUALITY OF LIFE

By Scott A Fitzpatrick.

How the Doctor changed my life is not a story of glamour, but you will find excitement can be found in even the dullest places on Earth.

Over the course of forty years I was slowly removed from a life of being free, a luxurious house, fine wines and fast cars to a world of being imprisoned in white corridors that smelt of urine and aspirin, medication and monthly coach trips to the seaside with people who suffer badly from arthritis or polio- I had become a resident of a nursing home. My daughters had found me to be a problem and it had become obvious they wanted a relationship with their father’s money and not a relationship with their father so I was condemned to rot while they could enjoy their inheritance, free of the burden that was supposedly me. I began to lose confidence in myself, and what was left of my life…until The Doctor came.

My new residence was known as the Sunshine Home, which was rather odd as sunshine around the place was as rare as solid food. Sunshine was…cheap and it had been this fact as to why I had been shoved in there. The supposed explanation was the alarming amount of deaths of its occupants. The younger generation had accounted this to simply old age but when a person dies every second week on a Tuesday night something is obviously wrong. As soon as I had moved in a lovely woman by the name of Julie pointed this out to me; she had reminded me of my late wife and over time I had gotten to know her and her little circle of friends. They showed me the ropes so to speak, what to eat, what not to eat, what to drink, what not to drink, where to go, where not to go (the basement was strictly off limits) and what staff to avoid. In fact all of the staff were worth avoiding for hidden behind sugary sweet smiles lay faces of hostility and impatience. One particular staff member to avoid was The Matron, a woman so cold a man’s loins could freeze just by looking at her. We had no idea what her full name was as she would only bark orders at the rest of the staff which oddly enough only consisted of women. We were happy to sit in the garden and talk and over time we all became close, but those days ended when Julie died one dreaded Tuesday. We had finished our meal and said goodnight to each other as usual but the next time we saw her she was in a body bag. We found ourselves with an empty space in our hearts and as we sat in the garden we sat in silence with our memories playing of when the circle had the life within it that had been Julie. Days past yet we still sat in silence until the next Tuesday arrived and so did The Doctor.

Heavy wind and rain poured down on Sunshine so the garden was closed off by its glass sliding doors and we were all marched into the sitting room. There we sat for hours doing nothing until the most curious thing occurred, The Matron kept pointing at our group to the staff, something horribly half expected would surely take place.

Suddenly there was a loud thumping coming from the garden doors as if whoever wanted to get in was very desperate. The staff ran to see what the matter was only to be followed by the residents, anxious for some sort of excitement. The Matron brushed aside the crowd to open the doors herself; her sharp nails curled around the handle and tugged as a man in the strangest and most revolting multi-coloured coat collapsed through the doorway. Although distorted by the rain, a large blue box sat at the end of the garden but the far more interesting man was in a poor state, his hair was blonde and curly even though affected by the rain. In one hand he clutched firmly a very colourful mangled umbrella, two of the staff turned him over and prised it from his grip and The Matron looked him up and down with her cold stare. Almost instantly his eyes snapped open and he stood upright, his eyes narrowed at the staff member with his umbrella. “You broke my umbrella!” he exclaimed snatching it from her grip. The Matron walked close to the man’s face and stared him in the eye.
“Who are you?” she whispered but the man quickly darted behind her and made his way into the sitting room calling behind him, “I’m The Doctor!”

We all followed in a large group into the sitting room. The Matron was furious as she stormed her way towards The Doctor who sat neatly on a sofa near the fireplace, his coat draped over his knees as he began to inspect it with care, “Good to see my clothing is still in one piece,” he mumbled to himself. The Matron snatched the coat from its owner, “How on Earth did you get into the garden? These are private grounds!”
The Doctor simply sat there and shrugged. “ Oh I don’t think you could say I came via The Earth but you see I simply went for a stroll and lost my sense of direction. Do tell if you find it because it can be valuable to a person who can use it.” The Matron did not find this at all amusing; screwing her nose up she began to break what was left of her cool, “You could not get in here unless you are a resident or a visitor and frankly you are neither!”
The Doctor looked at me and smiled, “Oh but I am a visitor! I’ve come to visit my old Dad!” he made his way over to me and gave me a hug; in doing so he whispered in my ear, “I’m here to help.” He then turned and smiled at The Matron with one arm around me.
“You have not spoken of a son, is this true?” The Matron looked at me with a smile but the Doctor’s hand felt a great comfort as a voice inside me helped me realise what the Doctor was saying was strangely the truth. “Of course he is…can’t you see the resemblance?” With my frayed black hair against his blonde curls it must have seemed obvious we were not related but The Matron simply kept smiling and looked at The Doctor once more but this time with the sugary sweet smile I was used to from the staff.
“ I am sorry for any inconvenience, I’m sure our girls will tend to your wet clothing,” she handed The Doctor back his coat, turned her heels and walked towards the stairs that lead to the basement.

That evening I got talking to this mysterious Doctor but I found aside from famous quotations from this strange man I got very little else as he let me do most of the talking but all he could assure me was he was here to help. When I told him about the deaths, the staff and the basement his eyes lit up and from that moment on my life would never be the same again, The Doctor was like a whirlwind and it was very easy to be caught up in his world.

It was not long after that I noticed the staff entering my room at the top of the stairs but The Doctor tugged at my sleeve for directions to the basement so I could not investigate. Once there I showed him the door that was naturally locked, he extracted a long silver object from his coat pocket and upon flicking its switch the door flung open. When I asked him what the object was he simply replied, “ Some things are best left a mystery” it had become obvious that The Doctor was not interested in talking and more interested in the basement and once entering it I could see why.

Inside the stench of decay met my nostrils instantly. The Doctor walked cautiously around the room and towards a lightly curtained object in the centre of the area. The rain and wind pounded against the basement window as The Doctor drew the curtain; within lay a beast- like corpse cemented to an iron table as machinery worked busily pumping energy into its lifeless body. The Doctor busily studied the machinery, “Life matter!” he shouted angrily. “They’re pumping it full of life matter!” he turned to face me his anger quickly fading to a look of amazement. It was then I noticed he was looking beyond me at The Matron and what seemed like the entire staff who, had appeared out of thin air. The Doctor clapped his hands slowly “Teleports! A bit clichéd but you lot always were!”
The Matron snarled with a face I had not seen before, “ Then we shall turn off our image translators so you may see our perfect shape!” There was a flickering of light and where The Matron and the staff once stood a group of large black- furred beasts stood proudly, their sharp claws out stretched, their eyes glowing a faint orange. My heart began to pound in fear; I had expected my life to flash before my eyes but I found I couldn’t remember much of it.
The Doctor simply looked them up and down and cringed, “ Ah the women of Evelon…” he sighed but the beast that had been The Matron began to chuckle.
The Doctor stepped forward unafraid, “ You may as well explain what you’ve been up to before you kill us…last time I chose to remember Evelons loved the sound of their own voices before anything else!”
The beasts all laughed this time and then their leader spoke, “Your loudmouthed arrogance Doctor is far more unbearable than the pride of our species! Our men were wiped out in the battle of Onraa, we found the corpse of one of the slain and frankly his reanimation will ensure the future of our species! We must breed Doctor or the Evelon will be extinct and for breeding you need a woman…and a man.
The Doctor began to get hostile…“AND WHAT OF THE DEATHS! THEY ARE INNOCENT HUMAN BEINGS! THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF ONE RACE TO AID ANOTHER!”
The beast hissed back…“We needed to collect life matter to do this and what better source than the elderly! Their lives are practically over! They are sent to places like this to die! The life matter is wasted on them! They have enjoyed the golden age of their lives and now they can help the Evelon to rebuild! It is their privilege! The man you have brought to us was already on our list for life matter draining tonight! We thankyou for luring him here!” My heart skipped a beat but The Doctor walked even further towards the beasts until the tip of his nose could have touched one of the beast’s neck, “ I won’t allow you to do this” he murmured through clenched teeth.

The Beast stepped back but then fell into a fit of laughter, “Then we shall kill you!” cried all the beasts.
The Doctor turned his back and walked towards the table but I could see a broad smile on his face, “Oh please! I am a time lord! I told my companion to stay aboard the TARDIS for everyone knows Evelon aren’t much of a threat! I told her “Mel! I’ll be back in time for your bloody carrot juice for every race knows the Evelon are weak! That’s why your men lost the war of Onraa! Your race is simply flawed!”

The beasts began to hiss. “LIES!” they screamed as their leader sharpened her claws. “The death of a time lord will contain more than enough life matter to reanimate our man! He shall make your TARDIS the coffin of your companion and we shall dominate this planet! The Evelon are strong! The Evelon are mighty! We are the ultimate race!” The Doctor placed one hand within his poisonous looking coat. “ You know I’ve heard similar speeches made by the most vial dictators, species of creatures so terrifying both my hearts would throb in fear and I must say your speech truly lacked passion, I don’t fear you, I don’t even respect or acknowledge your existence. I haven’t even asked for your name. You could have used your real talents rather than seek war. You could have created such beauty but you chose to cut yourselves off from the universe. Look at this primitive planet… humans have created such beauty, as they know the power of expression, art and emotion! ” The beasts all yelled at once “ Human Kind will fall! We are unique! We are perfect!”

The Doctor extracted the long silver object once more and yelled, “ This was your own doing!” Aiming it directly at the body of the male beast, the machinery supporting it began to spark as it started to overload. The Doctor grabbed my hand and headed for the door as the beasts tried to repair the problem. Once at the door The Doctor aimed the object at the basement window and exclaimed, “Water doesn’t mix well with electricity!” Suddenly the window broke apart as the rainwater poured down upon the machinery, electrocuting the beasts as they wailed in pain.

As we ran into the lounge all the residents crowded round, likely due to the vile screaming from the basement. The Doctor put his hand one last time on my shoulder. “Some beings think they are perfect because they have not witnessed the beauty of the rest of the universe. Don’t lock yourself into a self-obsessed shoebox like the Evelon. See and explore…” The Doctor removed his hand from my shoulder and made his way through the crowd.

I never saw The Doctor after this. He and the blue box vanished from the garden and from the walls of Sunshine but I had learnt a lesson…my life still had meaning, for I had thought I had seen everything this world had to offer but I had not seen the universe.

Even with age I still have more to learn and contribute.

The Doctor changed my life.

Scott A Fitzpatrick 2007

[dave]

I quite enjoyed this, Scott, and I'm not generally one for fan-fic. You write the sixth Doctor well, and you make a nice comment on nursing homes and how we treat the aged. Some of the paragraphs were a bit long, and there were a few spelling errors - using the wrong word (past instead of passed and vial instead of vile were the two I noticed), but generally I thought it a great story.

You should really call that sonic lance such in the story though, otherwise everyone's going to think it's s'posed to be the sonic screwdriver.

[Sulp Niar]

This is the version I sent to Big Finish - not the version I would have liked to have written (damn word count). Still, you'll have to judge it on the merits showed here, not what I originally intended. I'm still fond of the concept, but I don't like the way I did the story.

I, Yin and My Yang by Dom Kelly

Skylights, sweeping over him.
As he ran, cradling his oil spitting kneecap, he heard the whirring of engines and the clink of cogs in the night breeze. The wardens were coming.
It was no use. Farrington slid to the earth as the intense white faded and the shrouding black enveloped his mind.

The white had returned.
Farrington's thoughts swam incoherently.
Then it was clear. He was back in the facility.
He could hear something. Like the sound of sandpaper on a wall.
Farrington opened his eyes and winced as the blinding white of the skylight bared into his pupils. Not a warden; he was lying on a table, being reprocessed for prison.
He blinked. He saw what the noise was.
And he screamed in absolute, blinding terror.
Two robotic arms were sawing at his kneecap, tearing the exposed flesh to remove the hardened oil stains. Farrington screamed again, and again.
It was only when a third arm stabbed into his scalp that the black returned.

Black. Screams.
Click. White.
He lies in bed, the sheets drawn up to his chin, the light's switch intensely gripped.
His heart is hammering from his cage in a desperate bid to get out.
Yet there's nothing to fear. He lets his hand drop onto his bedside table. The sound of wood. Reality. It was a dream. A dream, nothing more.
Click. Black.
A discarded memory, nothing more.

White. The joyful experience of life.
The normal and the mundane.
Cade Smith blinks the sleep from his eyes and rolls, groaning, to the other side of his bed. No-one to shove him away, or he'd moan in their ear. I'm not a morning person, he thinks.
A new day to face. A happy one, as always.
Cade is, despite what he thinks, a morning person. It's the night that scares him.
He eventually pushes himself out of bed, his eyes still drooped and blurry, and stumbles drunkenly to the bathroom. Shaver, shaver, shaver... he thinks futilely. The world's problems ironed out by Cade Smith shaving his chin.
He thinks of this while soul searching through the eyes mirrored before him. He thanks God for his life, though he isn't religious. His devotion is of the "thank God for [insert lucky event here]" variety.
Cade sympathises with God. If Cade was God he'd treat humanity as he did his neighbours: a "hi!" and smile daily, but best left alone. An intervention from a deity figure, that scared Cade to death. Peoples' lives changing direction no matter their will. A glorified witness protection.
Cade's life is perfect the way it is, he thinks.
Except for that trickle of blood the shaver brings forth.

What's a spot of blood on a perfect day? The sun shining - if he wasn't so self-conscious, Cade would sing of it. The public would join him, too. He had that effect on people, his presence guaranteeing genuine smiles.
There was the night. That came later though.
Now it's the welcoming sun and the infectious tapping of his polished black shoes as he traverses the cheery streets to work. Cade gets almost too much attention: young exercise outfitted blondes, teeth shining as white as a halogen skylight; housewives, teeth shining less white but no less bright; even a punk rocker with bulldog collar armbands. All the stereotypes were out to play, and play they did when Cade was around.
He isn't entirely sure why he's so attractive to all. He has piercing steel blue eyes, the eyes of an assassin - though Cade had never held a gun. Him with a gun? In his dreams. His immaculately slicked back darkened hair and his impeccable dark skin.
Or perhaps it was just the suit.

Before he knows it, Cade finds himself entering a procession of women and men all moving in the same direction as if on a conveyer belt at a robotics factory, waiting to have robotic limbs and genitalia assembled. Strangely, this sends a shiver of familiarity down Cade's spine.
Whoosh! Into the revolving doors the suits go. Whoosh! Out they come, like a box of trick snakes. In the middle of the mall, the smells of fast food, the smell of vomit mixed with perfume... his second home.
Cade criss-crosses the crowd and arrives at his workplace: the bank.
Which bank? The Commonwealth bank. A joke cracked so often that his customers were liable to hit him. Not that they ever did; they all loved him. Even a robber wearing a balaclava had become distracted by Cade and said he loved him. It was a relief when the police barged in and took the madman away.
His workmates are the same.
"Cade, son," Mark says as Cade breezes into the back office, immediately heading towards the coffee machine. Mark frowns slightly. "I should charge you for all the coffee you drink. But..." He can't think of a reason not to, and simply leaves Cade to glow inside.

Work o'clock is finished.
Sweat drips from each jab of a number.
The phone dials, insisting an answer.
Click! There is none.
Leave a message…
"Hello, honey. I hope you're alright. (chuckle) If you ever do recover, you'll have a lot of these to listen to. (pause) Well, I was just checking to see how you were. (voice cracks) I love you."
Click.
The phone is placed back where it belongs.
He goes back to where he belongs.
She never left where she belongs.

He hovered outside the bank, hesitating.
He had everything prepared. In his pocket, his trusty Colt .45. Little did his grandad know he’d polish it up and use it.
He had his balaclava too. His wife's present. It was meant only for the cold. Not that she could protest now, eh? Two bullets to the chest. Stupid careless bitch. He still cried at night for her.
He took a deep breath. Then he unravelled the balaclava over his head.
Fingering his Colt .45, Martin kicked the bank's doors open and burst inside.

White. Yawn o'clock.
Cade rises from his bed again, yawning, then stops. His pillow is damp. Sweat? Drool? Piss?
His dream comes back to him. It was almost as if he were the robber he'd thought of yesterday. It didn't feel as if it were his bank though.
Dreams forgotten, put to one side, Cade sets about preparing himself for work.
From memory deleted to experience gained.

A phone call, Mark tells him at work.
Cade springs from his daydreams and walks out back. His daydreams are much safer than those of the night. He has control. He'd been thinking of her.
He pauses as he picks up the receiver.
Could it be her?
"Hello?" A nasally whine squawking in his ear.
"Hello," Cade's mouth says without consulting his brain.
"Ah, it's you! Listen, I have a proposition for you - "
"Who is this?"
"You don't remember?" The voice isn't disappointed; he thinks Cade's joking. "It's Martoni. Picture this; fifty kilograms of goods, not sure what yet..."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hear me out. Let's just say ecstasy, okay? What you'll be doing, right, is delivering the goods to your contact, who -"
"Delivering drugs?!"
"Well, yes." The tone is apologetic. "I'm sorry, but we could only make you the delivery man, not the main force behind affairs."
Yeah, that was bothering him…
Cade slams down the phone in anger. Then he breathes heavily.
This too seems familiar.

Cade sits in the black shadows of a bar during lunch break. He isn’t in the white, where he can be recognised by those he doesn’t. He's tired of it.
It's been a while since beer o'clock. Not since... her.
A shadow is hanging over Cade's day.
Cade closes his eyes and takes a heavy sip, before resting his chin on the neck for comfort. He opens his eyes.
A shadow is hanging over Cade's head.
He cringes. Someone's recognised him.
"Excuse me?" A soft voice, yet masculine.
Cade looks up.
A soft man, yet masculine. The most bizarre man Cade's ever seen. Cade isn’t a historian, but he knows a Victorian gentlemen when he sees one. An overhanging green (or was it purple? He couldn't tell in the dark) cravat that swept the floor, an exquisite silver tie thing... he didn't even know the appropriate words. The man himself was deathly white, with startling blue eyes and long brown hair.
He looked like a madman. But Cade doesn’t care. He gives the newcomer the benefit of the doubt.
"Hello."
"Have you noticed anything strange around here?"
Cade decides it's nicer to say no.
"Hmm. You see, my equipment points to this area being highly focused concerning - I'm the Doctor."
It takes a couple of seconds to register this. "I'm Cade."
"Cade," the Doctor mulls it over. "Cade Cade Cade."
A stab of annoyance. "Don't do that."
"What?"
"That 'Cade Cade Cade' thing. You sound like my mother."
"But Cade, you may have been spectacularly naughty." The Doctor moves to the chair adjacent to Cade's. "May I?"
"May you what?"
"Sit down."
"Oh!" Cade nods too enthusiastically. "Sorry, I'm not myself today."
The Doctor smiles and sits down. "I'd say you were drunk."
Cade looks at him suspiciously. "What are you, an officer?"
"An officer?" The Doctor looks struck by the thought as he considers it. "Well, I do enforce laws. The Laws of Time, usually."
"So you're impatient. Me too." Cade feels the need for another swig and raises his bitter to his lips.
"I wouldn't."
The urge suddenly dies and Cade finds himself putting down the bottle. "You'd be a good therapist."
"I'm the Doctor." A self-indulgent smile.
"So... what do you want again?"
The Doctor doesn't pay him attention. His eyes are lighting up. Cade has a terrible sinking feeling...
"Do I know you?"
"No." Cade stands up, stumbling slightly, and leaves the table in annoyance. A ruse to talk to him. Another bloody person he doesn't recognise.
The Doctor jumps up beside him. "Where are we going?"
"I'm going home. You're not."
"How do you know about that?" the Doctor asks, astonished.
Great. A bum. "I meant, goodbye."
He sets off.
"Wait, do you know of phantasmagoria?"
"No. But I know crap when I hear it.”

"Bring him in."
Jimmy, the Sly Fox, was thrown at the Boss' feet.
"Where's the fucking money?"
The Sly Fox tried to scramble onto his feet like a flapping fish out of water, but two cronies reached over and pushed him down.
"I don't know. They said it was coming to me, but they didn't make it. Blame them, Boss, not me."
The Boss blew a smoke ring with his cigar. "Time you understood. I own you. I can also disown you." He patted the Sly Fox on the cheek. "So next time, bring the money, alright?"
Then he incinerated the Sly Fox’s tongue with his cigar.

It's the middle of the night, the darkness. Cade's awoken from his dream, but the darkness still frightens him.
He's pissing. The trinkling of the toilet is the only thing he can hear. He looks away from the mirror. The light is on, resplendent in white, but he doesn't want to see.
"Cade?"
Cade pisses himself in fear.

They trudge through the darkness, feets squelching through the rain, leaves and mud sticking to Cade's boots. He doesn't know why he believes the Doctor. He doesn't know why he's following the Doctor. He doesn't know what the hell is going on.
He just needs to know. He feels it deep, deep inside.
He waits.

They've reached their destination. If Cade was afraid before, now he's even more afraid. The night air chills his bones and his soul. His soul feels like it's being searched, to meet with the other dead souls out tonight.
They're at a graveyard.
The Doctor looks at him gravely. And he leads Cade inside.
He waits.

Cade feels as if they're all watching him, connecting with him. Spiritually? Cade isn't a spiritual man though, is he?
How wrong he is.
He anticipates.

Suddenly an explosion of blinding white light penetrates the darkness with impossible intensity. Cade can't see, and he can. He can't see the real world, he can't see what he expects to, the graveyard. He can see the spiritual world, he can see what he doesn't expect to see, ghosts dripping blood on their levitating gravestones and searching through his soul with their eyeless sockets, the black holes.
Cade feels them - he can feel them - as they hover there, tearing at his soul inside without so much as lifting a trailing torn rag. He tries to yell in pain, but he can't.
He can hear the Doctor yelling, and he turns to look at him. The Doctor looks as he always does, unaffected by the bizarre white light, avoiding the soul searching spotlight. The Doctor doesn't look out of place at all. He too looks deep into Cade's eyes, but whilst his gaze is penetrating too, it is not accusing as the spectres are, but warm and inviting.
"I can free you," he mouths.
There is an explosion of pain in Cade's mind that ripples torrents of pain down his entire body and rips out his heart. His head swims and the blackness comes...
He is free.

"It's Martin's gravestone," the Doctor says, pointing.
MARTIN DIEHM. 1782-1819.
"That’s all that he got, and he can't have more." He looks up. "His soul possessed you."
"I know," Cade whispers. He shivers, as afraid of the gravestone as his other self. He tries to crack a smile. "When I played the part, I didn't think it'd take me over quite so literally."
The Doctor's smile is also fake. "You channelled him."
Cade laughs, despite himself.
"Martin was attracted to your life, so he infected your body. He wanted to live his ideal life. Before his wife was shot."
"Infected? No. True, I've been trying to get out. Dreaming. But you know what? I like the life he was leading. It was perfect."

Cade resurfaces. The first voice he hears isn’t the Doctor’s.
Hello, Martin.
Hello, Cade replies.

They're standing under a flickering streetlight. Out of the graveyard, where he belonged.
You didn't belong there.
The Doctor scrutinises Cade’s face. "You're back in the driving seat. You can go back to your real lifestyle. You can travel the world. Once you remember who you are, the universe is your oyster."
"I hate oysters."
The Doctor pauses.
"I'm happy with the life I'm leading now. And so is… Cade. He's happy. He only wants to experience."
He knows he's right. There's a warm glow inside.
The Doctor shrugs defeatedly. "I suppose you know best." He looks almost offended as he sweeps off like an obscure shadow. Cade doesn't bid him farewell.

The dawn of a new day. What will tomorrow bring?
Same old, same old.

[Sulp Niar]

Just read your story Scott - and I really liked it! I didn't think there was any huge flaw in it, but I do think I know what the Big Finish staff would have objected to. Apparently - and I wasn't aware of this, it wasn't in their guidelines - because of the New Series, all of Big Finish's output is a lot more family friendly. So no mentions of rape or anything (ala 'Nekromanteia') is allowed. You spoke of urine, which probably turned them off straight away. I know it's a tiny detail - they probably should have said a bit more about their restrictions.

Same happened with me, although I was a lot ruder. A bit of swearing and realism. I shouldn't have made that mistake.