Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Doctor Who and Start Of It All ❯ Chapter 1 ( Prologue )
[ A - All Readers ]
1963 London
It was a dark and gloomy winter's night. The fog was starting to roll in when the sound of
footsteps sounded though the thickest part of the dark walkway, the sound a keys tinkling
against each other. As the foot fall draw ever near.A tall figure of a local caped policeman
that was patrolling his local beat walked through the fog towards the only lamp post.
Walking past the lamp post he pulled out his torch
to shine down the roll of local shops up till the street and sidewalk ended at a high blank wall.
placing his club that he was carrying into his belt loop he noticed a blank wall at the end of the side walkway.
There in the wall where two high gates that happened to lead to the local junk yard well that
what the sign that said after saying "I. M. Foreman Merchant" and just below that in bright bold
red paint "Private-Keep out" The Police man walked closer to the entry-gate he placed his hands
on it and with a soft yet squeaky sound the gate opened just alittle. He decided to check for
intruders.
Shinning his torch around the small yard. He came up with no intruders just a lot of old broken
stuff such as radios, furniture that where missing pieces and cars that where dismantled, Marble
statues that where missing limbs such as feet, arms, legs and a couple that where missing there
heads.
He turned and his light shined up a large blue square box in the far right hand corner of the
yard. he saw to his wonder the familiar shape of a call box, this box was very common to London
streets. Inside this special box was a phone to be used by the police, or even the common people
to get in contact for help in an emergency.
It was a very odd thing to find in a junk yard. He thought, may be this one was sold for scraps,
or even it could of been sold. It would soon be phased out and walkie-talkies brought in. He
couldn't wait until he got his own. 'That'll be the day', he thought. Still the owner must of
got is some where; it was unlikely that he stole it and brought it to his yard with out getting
caught.
He could see it now telling his desk-sergeant, the look on his face would be the high light of
his day. To see if anyone reported a missing police box. He paused his thoughts for a moment to
listen. A tiny hum from some corner it sounded like some electrical. Probably a small generator.
As he stepped out of the yard thought the double gates he pulled them close. He could here his
hot sweet tea and sausage sandwiches calling for him at home after his long patrol. Not looking
back he decided to go back the way he came. If he would of looked back he would of notice a few things happening like the small latch on the gate didn't catch as it creped open slowly again or see golden mist form out of thin air and form in to a golden wolf that seemed to be howling but no noise was heard, as what looked like the words "BAD WOLF" form in small golden letters once the fog turned green and disappeared to show a full-moon, which light shined down on the words and the doors.
The words where so small only those who knew what to look for would see them. That is if they knew they where looking for them in the first place. Maybe that would jog there memory on what they forgot, that is if they forgot something in the first place.
It was a dark and gloomy winter's night. The fog was starting to roll in when the sound of
footsteps sounded though the thickest part of the dark walkway, the sound a keys tinkling
against each other. As the foot fall draw ever near.A tall figure of a local caped policeman
that was patrolling his local beat walked through the fog towards the only lamp post.
Walking past the lamp post he pulled out his torch
to shine down the roll of local shops up till the street and sidewalk ended at a high blank wall.
placing his club that he was carrying into his belt loop he noticed a blank wall at the end of the side walkway.
There in the wall where two high gates that happened to lead to the local junk yard well that
what the sign that said after saying "I. M. Foreman Merchant" and just below that in bright bold
red paint "Private-Keep out" The Police man walked closer to the entry-gate he placed his hands
on it and with a soft yet squeaky sound the gate opened just alittle. He decided to check for
intruders.
Shinning his torch around the small yard. He came up with no intruders just a lot of old broken
stuff such as radios, furniture that where missing pieces and cars that where dismantled, Marble
statues that where missing limbs such as feet, arms, legs and a couple that where missing there
heads.
He turned and his light shined up a large blue square box in the far right hand corner of the
yard. he saw to his wonder the familiar shape of a call box, this box was very common to London
streets. Inside this special box was a phone to be used by the police, or even the common people
to get in contact for help in an emergency.
It was a very odd thing to find in a junk yard. He thought, may be this one was sold for scraps,
or even it could of been sold. It would soon be phased out and walkie-talkies brought in. He
couldn't wait until he got his own. 'That'll be the day', he thought. Still the owner must of
got is some where; it was unlikely that he stole it and brought it to his yard with out getting
caught.
He could see it now telling his desk-sergeant, the look on his face would be the high light of
his day. To see if anyone reported a missing police box. He paused his thoughts for a moment to
listen. A tiny hum from some corner it sounded like some electrical. Probably a small generator.
As he stepped out of the yard thought the double gates he pulled them close. He could here his
hot sweet tea and sausage sandwiches calling for him at home after his long patrol. Not looking
back he decided to go back the way he came. If he would of looked back he would of notice a few things happening like the small latch on the gate didn't catch as it creped open slowly again or see golden mist form out of thin air and form in to a golden wolf that seemed to be howling but no noise was heard, as what looked like the words "BAD WOLF" form in small golden letters once the fog turned green and disappeared to show a full-moon, which light shined down on the words and the doors.
The words where so small only those who knew what to look for would see them. That is if they knew they where looking for them in the first place. Maybe that would jog there memory on what they forgot, that is if they forgot something in the first place.