• Published 14th Apr 2013
  • 2,061 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.

  • ...
8
 54
 2,061

Raindrop Threnody

1024 AC, ? Month, ? Day, ? h/min/s

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Where am I?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Am I... home?

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I don't know what is this...

Why...

Why am I writing this...?

Is this some sort of journal? I pretty much seen a lot of meaningless words at the previous pages, but did I really write this? Would I... would I record something senseless as... as where am I right now...?

Celestia, look at all this gibberish I wrote...

To whomever that will read this, which I suspect not, I'm sorry. It's that I'm voicing out whatever thoughts that could occur to me now. I found this... this logbook in my hooves and I'm just writing whatever that I could begin with to prosper these empty pages. There was a previous entry that stated strange things about me, such as this... disease I've contracted. It doesn't seem to me like I'm having Alzheimer's, no. It surely doesn't seem that way. I'm still fit, alive and the Doctor I was meant to be. At least, before my supposedly twelfth cycle begins.

Cut things short, there were a list of... dates. Dates that spanned from the day I was born to... to when? What day was this? Was the last date on the list yesterday? I can't really tell. All I know is that I'm stuck in this... this prison; stone walls decrepit and teeming with moss and mouse-holes, five wooden planks chained to the wall for a bed and a small, metal-barred window that gives me a dull view of the full moon covered in dense clouds. Cold wind brushed through my hair, keeping them straight up with every creeping caress against my skin like it was the eve of winter, which I believe it is, judging from the snow piling at the ledge outside of the window. The moisture was heavy and suffocating, which is what I expected to be from a prison like this. Caged like a common animal, with only a black book to spare me from total lethargy. Celestia, that's one hell of a bloody lengthy description...

Seeing this now...

It seems this is some sort of logbook to record important things perhaps? I don't really know, but maybe I could fill in what I could remember from just a few mere minutes ago. It seemed right. The same wind that blew now sent shivers in my sleep before all of this. I could feel my warm breath becoming chilly as I cringed tighter inwards. It was then, with the creaking metal gate separating me from the world opening, that I awoke from my nightmarish slumber.

"Doctor."

The voice said my name. Well, actually, it said my title, but with all the habitual calling of my title, it's really hard to tell. Anyways, it certainly was somepony I know... but I've been alone all this time, aren't I? Was I really alone all this time?

When I came to, I found myself on the aforementioned 'bed', clutching the logbook in which I'm writing down right now and turning to the figure whose shadow loomed over me. I expected to stare into the face of a total stranger, but no, her face was distinguishable as much as her shunning voice, what with her eyes sternly narrowed and her mane sparkling in the stream of moonlight. It was a face that instilled fear every single time she called, and now she called for me.

"Pr-Princess... Luna...?"

The cerulean alicorn said nothing. There wasn't remorse or pity in her eyes, only an unforgiving look, stone-cold and firm. I'm quite surprised she didn't use her royal voice to scream in my face yet. Emphasize on the 'yet'.

"Doctor," she repeated, much softer this time. "Do you know why are you here?"

Like the bloody hell I know, I wanted to scream! It was then that I realize of my surroundings, this cold, damp darkness that they call a jail cell. Airless and remorseless to hold the worst of the worst in Equestria. And suddenly I'm thrown in here to be compared to those half-witted scums!

"Wh-Why am I here?" I carefully stammered my question, trying not to further anger the Princess before me. "If I may ask, Your Highness...?"

"You don't remember?"

"I... I-I..."

It was then that I forced my head to think, my eyes clenching shut and sending me into the spiraling darkness of my head, wanting to nitpick something that would solve this demented question: why the hay am I here? But in the end, it was all in vain. Fruitless as an orchard in the frozen north, figuratively speaking.

"I d-don't know, Your Highness..."

Princess Luna squinted her eyes, doubting my words perhaps, or figuring on how to settle this. Suddenly, her eyes caught this exact logbook that I was clutching onto, and with that horn of hers, she just grabbed it! Not even a please or thank you, no! Just snatched it from my bloody hooves! If I wasn't that bloody tired and, if I may add, if she wasn't a bloody princess, I would've get it back, thank you! Of course, she seemed not to care of my words. I see her expression changing from confusion, to realization, to disgruntlement. Always looking serious, that alicorn, unlike her sister, whom I met a few times before. For once, can't she smile for me?

"It seems you have a rather... permanent complication," she mused. "Perhaps you might need to reflect on your past deeds? Recall what you can? Maybe then, you know what you did wrong..."

With that, she left, escorted by those... batguards of hers (the very, very protective ones, to be accurate). It was after four minutes of staring at these empty pages that I decided to write this despite my reluctance and now here I am, putting the final full stop on this be-damned sentence.

But now... what shall I do? Where shall I begin? It just... I'm...

I'm lost...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I'm perfectly lost...

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

But there must be something. Some sort of clue. No, the Princess wouldn't be so cold as to leave me here to ponder about events long past. No, she wouldn't. No way with her sister on the sworn throne would she bind me to the void I'm in: empty from what I've faced in the past, and what I am facing now. No, there must be something...

...

...

I flipped back to the first pages of this... this logbook. I found a date circled in red. Was it done by her, or was it done by... by me? I myself don't remember doing this, but it seems it's the first plausible choice I could make. For some reason, when I waved my hoof over it, my heart pulsated with a tingle, as if there was something... magical over it. A touch of magic that somepony had made? Was it my doing? Just as I mouthed the date aloud (993 AC, First Summer, 23 to be exact), something stung my head. Something made me grunt, made me collapse onto the cold, hard floor, with all my parts aching. It was... it was just... something! I don't know what! I want to know...

I want to know...

To know...

Maybe that's it... maybe that's what it was... that aching feeling.

Of knowledge......
.
.
.
.
.
.
.


.
.
.

1024 AC, Second Winter, 17, 12:00:00

This is it.

It's high noon, and already I could feel it sinking in.

I flipped back a hundred times already, making sure I remembered every written date. Some of them were blurring, some starting to leak out from my memory stream, but otherwise intact yet incomplete. I've strained to memorize what I could from only the numbers before me, for that day will arrive soon. I don't know when, but the doctor said in the next few months or so, and I want every single link of my memory intact. The warm hearth of the fireplace blazed, reminding me of the little time I have left before I turned to dust like burning wood turning into ash and soot. It was freezing cold; one of the coldest winters in Equestria according to... somepony...

Somepony told me that...

I... I can't remember... who...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Celestia please have mercy on my fragile mind......

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

My TARDIS awaits me in the freezing winter outside however, the form it has taken (an otherworldly, blue police box, to be exact) already covered in the white snow gently drifting in the chilling currents of air, icicles decorating its edges with windows fogged up from the radiating heat of the activated engine inside like how my breath would cloud the glass of the window pane.

The cup of steaming hot chocolate, complete with marshmallow islands swimming around its bowels like turtles, was the only comfort I had besides my scarf and earmuffs. The fireplace was excluded, probably because of my ridiculous distance from it, and I guarantee, heat doesn't travel far even in this house.

"T-Turner?"

A stranger's voice, full with absurd concern. It was female; you don't need a glance at the owner of the voice to know that, of course. In fact, I never saw a glimpse of her, nor her face, which I guessed by appearance, but the way she calls me soothes me of my growing problems somehow, even though I don't know who exactly she is.

She was the owner of this house and, to my luck, was kind enough to let me stay here for this winter. Despite the other noisier inhabitants in the house, no doubt a family or even a bunch of young ponies fresh from university, I somehow put up with it. I try to keep my sociability to the minimum: there's no point meeting somepony new when your memory is already fading away. "Yes, milady?" I responded, gaze still frozen to the whirring TARDIS outside the window.

"I'm going to the park with... you know..."

"Alright."

Trotting hooves soon followed my voice and, with that done, my ears caught the sound of the front door latching shut. The thudding sounds of the room above stilled immediately, the other tenants no doubt followed her out. I sometimes question why she would tell me such things only to invite those living above me, but now's not the time. Once I'm sure they were gone, I crept towards the back door, placing the half-empty mug on the kitchen table. I normally would see it as half-full, but with times like these calls for drastic changes. Don't judge me.

Stepping into the wintry afternoon, with a barrage of air and snow slamming into my face, I trudged across the frozen garden, already violently shivering even though I had been through countless winters in my lifetime. The TARDIS stood there, patiently awaiting my hesitant arrival. Trust me, it was not the first time I had done this, and by 'this', I also mean the exact date I'm about to head to. If I recalled correctly, this would be the eight time I would be venturing back, but this time...

This time... it's different.

Not for the sake of knowing...

But for the sake of remembering...
.
.
.


.
.
.

993 AC, First Summer, 23, 03:17:24

Damp and dark was the morning, with most of the population in the city still asleep. All around me, I was surrounded by rows of antiquate buildings, with windows mostly oval-shaped and doors rickety as the hinges that grasped on them. The rain was heavy, with the only sources of light being a few iron street lamps and the subtle streaks of lightning that flashed through the entirety of the world below it. Lightning... it seemed so sudden, yet in that minuscule interval, it showed so much power and fury.

I felt like that the first time I came here, concealing myself in the shrouding darkness of the alleyways. It became a routine for me to hide here to the point where I can remember everything that happened. One flash of lightning later, a mouse would scurry between my hooves, then a few dogs - a quartet, probably - would bark in the distance. Then, the sky would flash two consecutive times, before comes the eventful scene.

Stepping out of the shadows was a mare, protecting herself with a raincoat, safe from the rain that pattered on its rubber surface. She glanced around warily, the torch she was holding swinging in the light breeze whilst she cradled what seemed to be a small foal in her hooves. Just as she turned towards me, the lightning flashed once, and at that very instant I would whirl back and close my eyes. The first time I did that, I wondered why. It was the reason I came here in this timeline in the first place: to see her face, but as I grew, I soon understood that her face was never meant to be shown. Necessary steps must be taken.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I will not see her.

I don't need her anymore.

I'm sorry...

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Amid the booming thunder, she crept towards one of the buildings, placing the foal down in a basket onto the pavement, shielded only by the small roof over it. I watched as she knelt down, giving a quick peck on the baby's forehead and a tear to stain the blanket, before scurrying off in the rain. Hatred fueled in me like the prowess of lightning at my first glance, but I understand now why she had to do it. I could've saved it by bringing it back to my time, where I can find somepony kind enough to nurture it, but that would cause a chaos in time and space.

It was not meant to be.

A smile crept up to my face like how I was creeping up to the baby, being careful not to wake him up. It soon grew wider at the sight of his small tuft of dark amber on the tip of his quaint forehead, his coat colored in a brighter shade. Luckily for me, he was fast asleep, and no matter how loud the thunder rang, or how the dogs howl in the distance, he never woke.

Time passed and I sat there, in front of the door of some stranger's house, glancing down at this sleeping foal tucked like a doll in the basket. The winds whipped my tail and mane fiercely like it whips the baby's, the rain pattering against my back that shielded him from its barrage of droplets. It was a burden, yet it made me feel comfortable.

It was not meant to be, for us to be together.

Sometimes he would scrunch his cheeks, sometimes he would drool, sometimes he would even let out a snore louder than those blasted dogs, but I remained there. All the time my eyes gaze down upon him, my hooves just aching to give his puffy cheeks a gentle caress, but all I could do was stare. I could've told him how he was going to grow up and become a great pony, but all I could do was stare. I could've told him he would be important in Equestria as much as he was important to himself, but all I could do was stare.

It was not meant to be, for us to be together.

It's better to stare...

Soon, the rain stopped and, with that, the storm in my heart. Half an hour had past since my arrival, yet I don't mind. I would muster up all the patience in the world if I'm forced to watch this foal for time infinite, and I could watch him grow up, watch him become curious of his surroundings... like a real child.

"Lucky you," I muttered. Lucky you, all right.

Yeah...

Lucky me.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

It was not meant to be, for us to be together.

It's better to stare, than to interfere.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Perhaps it is why this cycle bring out the strange things in me: instead of being born anew as a full-fledged stallion, I came back as a small little child, fresh from the womb. I was unfortunate enough to have lost my memory of my previous cycles, but it was a speck compared to how lucky I was exploring the world as a child once again.

To be a child... imagine the freedom... the spark of creativity... the cheerfulness of adults to you instead of each other...

To be innocent, primarily.... or.... more so...

To have the love of a mother and father...

I remembered having a mother, though not officially. I can't remember how she was like, but I could faintly register a few little details about her. She would be a mare that I would forever respect if she had nurtured me, but as you can see, I was placed here in the damp darkness of the city, and by city, it was the prestigious Canterlot. Perhaps if she had taken care of me, I would have a different life, even if she isn't my real mother. But as you can see, it was meant to be. I had no right to interfere her choices.

She was a mother that never was, and never meant to be.

And as I gaze down at myself, having shielded the rain from my infant self, I would be the father that never was.

The father of myself...

That seemed a little awkward.

After giving a few knocks on the door, I soon said my farewells silently, slowly sneaking away and slinking back into the darkness from whence I came. The TARDIS awaited me patiently like a sentinel-- no... a guide. Yes... a guide to show me the little parts of my life that I had missed. The little parts such as this...

I never understood why I did what I did the first time I came here, but it grew on me. Ever since, it was to comfort me and, though I suspect that I would see myself shielding over him if I had came later, it never happened. It was as if the TARDIS wanted me to be there every time I came back, so that I could relive the same, serene experience over and over and over and over and over and over and over and ov and that's...

That's a good thing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

To whomever that left me there, I'm sorry.

I will not see you.

For I don't need you anymore.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

It was not meant to be, for us to be together.

It's better to stare, than to interfere.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

And to the foal that would one day become the stallion I know very well...

You're not lost.

Don't ask where you are.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

You are home

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.