Going down the pub had to stand in for a brooding bar, with Earl playing darts up one end, but Donna sometimes thought of Cheryl and her daft spook-books, when she found herself sketching stick figures out of beer dregs on a table top for the sixth night in seven, trying to sort out all the pictures in her dreams. They were, to the man, brooding, long-streak-of-nothing blokes they looked pretty interesting for five minutes, but get so wrapped up in their personal crises that they couldn’t see the criminal for the Cthulu.Ĭhiswick was not anyone’s Chicago or New York. Not the proper stuff-nothing like Agatha Christie-but the sort who sat in dark bars and glowered while the supernatural happened all around them. It started at the pub.ĭonna’s friend Cheryl was mad for detective novels. No, instead she strained for the face that had been added to snowside stories and Oodsong, shared-or so she had read-over telepathic link across entire planets. Not the face she had last seen from a hospital bed, shadowed as her whole body ached from the gift she had not known she would give. Not his current face-not that strange, daft mix of old and young and silly hats that had slipped behind even her infant eyes. River stood on the central planet of the Ood-Sphere, snow up to her ankles and music skittering up from glaciers to prick her skin, and tried to picture The Doctor’s face. Boxed-Up: A Collection of Timelord Ephemera. The Doctor, and perhaps his strongest and strangest Earth Companion. But to anyone interested in post-Gallifreyan, the Ood-and our treatment of them-do not just show us our own past, but also a faint, yet enduring, tale of The Doctor himself. They do, after all, show us a reflection of ourselves (Sawyer, 2745: 23). “The Ood have been more prominent in studies of ethics or politics than music or legend.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |