• Published 14th Apr 2013
  • 2,053 Views, 54 Comments

Perhaps Death - WritingSpirit

The Doctor finds himself stuck in prison, unable to remember anything he had experienced prior to his awakening. With the help of his diary, enchanted with magic, he tries to piece his life back together, not knowing what might await him at the end.

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To Be The Doctor

How to start it... how to start it...

What would a professional author begin a biography with...

But I have nothing.


There was nothing......



Really fascinating way to start a small tale. If Ditzy were here now, she would've laughed in my face, and that's saying something, having her to laugh in my face. She is my companion, and a life-long one at that as well. Did you see how blooming lovely she is? But enough of my hindering blabber.

I'm the Doctor. You could call me the Doctor, though most of you would know me by Doctor Whooves. To my fellow ponies around me, they would know me as Time Turner, or Turner, if you're that much of a close friend. To my colleagues, they just know me by Turner Whooves, and by colleagues I mean my companions. There are a few, some relatively distant, some closely acquainted, but I'm satisfied with the ones stuck with me right now.

An Equestrian's mode of travel is by hoof. Walking, trotting, galloping, prancing, dancing, all sorts of methods of self-transportation. It is basically movement of one's body in its most primitive of forms, only able to take you through a dimension of space and not time. In order for one to break through the space-time continuum, one must be sent at a speed of at least ten thousand times the speed of light, the figure of it increasing if the time frame between your intended destination and your current time is-- no,no,no,no,no!

There I go again, me and my tendency of digressing. Don't mistake it for enthusiasm; I dare say, I'm not a fan of knowledge. Bow ties, however, are a different story. They're cool, so why not?

Now, back to the business at hoof. To be frightfully honest, I'm not entirely sure where to begin, actually. Do I really have to start at a specific way, like 'it began on a midsummer's eve' or 'as the first rays of light shine upon me' or some metaphorical sense at that? Truthfully, I've spent time and time again talking about myself that I couldn't fathom if anypony reading this would understand this! But then again, this is about myself, after all.

Let's see... Ah! There we go! You'd probably be wondering what all this lingual hullabaloo is all about! Why would I bring up topics of family and companionship and mix it together with the wonders of time and life? Well I'll begin it this way.

To be the Doctor, or Time Lord, if accuracy is a matter, requires deduction and cunning abilities. Throughout time, problems arisen that can be difficult to solve, and yes, we Time Lords are sent to solve them, basically. Travelling through time requires you to take something called a TARDIS; a Time and Relative Dimension in Space. In reality, it's a time machine and space craft, built specifically for travel only. And no, it's not a battleship.

Okay... after TARDIS... comes the subject of importance. Sometimes, we face difficulties along the way that would impede our duties, and it is with that in mind that I have an ability to regenerate. I'd rather call it reincarnation; you don't get the same body and personality back. Maybe in the next regeneration my fascination with bow ties would be obsolete, for example.

It's like a form of immortality, spanning in an infinite cycle of rebirth over and over again, minus all that tissue regeneration and whatsoever. Ponies would definitely be shocked at the idea, possessing the powers that even alicorns themselves are foreign to.

Perhaps it's destined. That a strange little colt like me acquired these powers at his birth. In fact, I've been through eleven cycles of life, and being number eleven surely brings out a curious side of me. Who else would share my interests of bow ties, fezzes, bunk beds and glasses?

So this is basically it about me as the Doctor. If anypony wants to be one then be my guest, but be ready to face the time paradoxes you have to fix. That's why I have companions, like the ever-cheerful Ditzy Doo, who accompanied me for... um, for...... she didn't do much, really.

And why, you may ask? Maybe it's my testimony of protecting all those put in danger because of me, or maybe it's how... how I feel for her. We were married for a reason, after all, and I'm extremely sure she was the perfect mare of my life.

She made feel like I'm something more than just 'the Doctor'.

And that might be the hardest thing to forget. Along with something else.

Just today (and by today, I do mean 'as-you-are-reading-this' today) I discovered something unforgettable, for it was a simple secret that I stored in the head. A small, infectious secret that corrupts my mind in such xenophobia that I violate the Laws of Time to avoid it from happening at all costs.

And now... you could say my time is running out. I've spent these days thinking and thinking, for it was too soon for me to leave my family. They love me for who I am, and probably their idea of me coming back as a different pony... I can't fathom the consequences that might happen to my family.

So, I'll begin with a simple introduction of time measurements in Equestria.

Years here are measured in ascensionem Celestius, shortened AC and means past Celestia's ascension. There are twelve months, with each month named along with its corresponding seasons. Per say, what you call 'January' will be known as 'First Spring'. 'February' would be 'Second Spring', 'August' would be 'Second Fall' and so on and so forth. Days, hours, minutes and seconds are not a worry; they're exactly the same as your world.

So, where to begin, where to begin... ah, yes! We'll start at this exact time, on how I found out about it.

About how I am going to lose them all.

1012 AC, Second Summer, 14, 14:03:35

"Are you sure about this, Doctor?"

Believe me, I hope it was another client talking to me, but this time I was the client and the pony before me was the doctor, flaunting elegantly in a white suit and stethoscope around his neck, which I put it as simply exceptional. I myself never had a white suit, but if the rare opportunity comes up, I might just have to get one for myself.

Rambles aside, it was another one of my appointments with the staff of Ponyville Hospital. I was a frequent visitor, probably due to the routinely checkups I arranged every month so as to hopefully not attain any accidental infections from the places I've been or the beasts I faced. Equestria can be pretty wild in my area of work, even wilder than the Everfree, so one must be careful when trudging through the wilderness in different time zones.

The doctor placed down his clipboard, looking at me in this grim fashion that could quite possibly scare me senseless if I was five years old. He arranged his glasses, sniffling a little as he glanced back down at the small notes in his watch, I assumed probably to avoid my gaze judging from those sweat droplets trailing down his neck. With a teeter and a totter forward, he stared at me again, shuffling his hooves nervously as he opened his mouth to speak... then he stopped.

For the next five minutes, I stared at his jaws, queerly opening and closing in a silent stutter. A few times he withdrew curiously, constantly scratching his head and shaking his hooves fervently; a sign he was nervous. Not just 'nervous' nervous, but extreme, pressurized, death-incoming nervous.

"S-Sir..." he finally began. "I have some news for you, Mr..."

"Oh, I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor, if you don't mind."

It's a habit for new psychiatrists, pharmacists and such to look strangely at me after my introduction. No surgeons yet, mind you; I haven't gone through a major accident yet. Sometimes they would ask about my background and when I respond, they added a trip to the psychologist in the prescription for some reason. Strange indeed.

"So how's the news?" I began, curious to know. "Is it fantastic? A global achievement? Something that would land me in the Equestrian Book of Records? Come on, speak up! I haven't got all day!"

"W-Well, the good news is... the 'spider-bite' you were referring to is harmless. It's a tarantula bite, which causes a lot of pain but injects no venom whatsoever."

"Oh! Oh!!"

You would never believe how overjoyed I was. I was practically prancing about the room and never caring about that extra pair of eyes just watching me like I'm some deranged nanny who had finished the last of her duties! Perhaps I had already expected him to write up a meeting with the psychologist, yet none of that seemed to matter to him, at least.

"So is it done then? Then, I bid you adieu, doctor! Farewell! Until we meet again!"

"W-Wait!" he shouted, stopping me in my tracks. "There are some bad news as well, I'm afraid to say."

Curiosity lulled me back. After all, what side-effects does a mere tarantula bite possess other than intense, agonizing pain that wreaks mind, body and soul for near eternity? Okay, maybe I exaggerated quite a little about the pain, but for those who had been through it, you know what I mean.

"It was during one of your previous body scans," the doctor began, which I admit, I was a little paranoid about parasites in my skin. Can you imagine, a tapeworm roosting and laying eggs in your head? That's abhorrent if not horrifying! "My colleagues and I discovered that as we are speaking in this very instant, the microtobules in your brain cells are disintegrating."


"I'm sorry to tell you this, but..." He coughed silently, almost too silently for my taste. Already I could feel my heart sinking slowly and as he opened his mouth to speak, my breath came to a halt, remaining taut, firm and frozen as he uttered what I never thought to hear.

"You are currently suffering from Alzheimer's."

Ah, Alzheimer's. Heard of it before, that notorious disease that weakens one's memory. It would be the greatest thief in the world if it manifested itself into a pony, stealing everyone's precious little mementos from the back of their head. For a moment there you could see me sighing and laugh in relief, only to glance back at the doctor's paling face, almost as if he was questioning my sanity (which I assumed it was a daily routine of his).

"It's just a disease, isn't it doc?" I asked, leaning back against that raggedy chair of his. "You know what they say, every disease has a cure!"

"I'm afraid to say, sir, but..." the doctor hesitantly began. "Alzheimer's is... ch-chronic, sir..."


"There is no cure."


There was nothing.

It all came crashing to me and made me realize...

"W-What do you..."

Everything was a drone. A long, languid and nonsensical explanation like the one being given to me now. That doesn't matter to me. His words don't matter, for they don't fit, but yet they somehow do. Death was frequent to me in my line of work. All in all, death was my friend; every time I've been brought into his clutches, he takes me into his embrace, cradles me, fondles me and brings me back anew, in flesh and blood and in personality, yet my memories still retain. But it seems even I would one day fall blind to his mangled tricks.

That day seemed to arrive quicker than I expected.



It was rude, to snap me out of my deductions, but I held back my tempest spirit. The doctor stared me with this... this look of concern; one that many of his colleagues wouldn't dare to do so in my presence, and also one I readily appreciated. "Do you need somepony to look after you?" he suggested, to which I shook my head. "But the disease..."

"I have my own prescriptions, my friend," I humbly replied. "After all, I am the Doctor."

And doctors prepare themselves for everything. That's what it takes to be the Doctor: that I prepare myself for whatever obstacles that are thrown at me. There's much more to me than just being a little pony on the verge of death: I'm a Time Lord and I make sure all those around me know me and my existence. With my head held high up to the setting sun, I walked right out of the hospital, my head already whirring to prepare the first of what would be the most brilliant, craftiest plan a Doctor like me could make.

This is it!

This is it, isn't it?

This is what's left of me.

To be the Doctor?


There was nothing.

It all came crashing to me and made me realize...

I knew nothing.

I remembered nothing.