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Description
Not So Alone: Part 2

But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Jack leaned forward as much as he dared, his lips pursed as he scanned the night sky for any sign of the odd object. In search of a less-obstructed view, he leapt down softly from his perch on the tree branch and onto the pond below, the still water freezing instantly beneath his feet, a thin layer of swirling ice sprouting from wherever he stepped.

His search proving fruitless, he shrugged and turned around, a quick bout of Winter wind lifting him from his place on the water and setting him down on the nearby land.

It was his eyes playing tricks, after all.

A subtle change in the air brought a smile to his face. He knew what that change was. He could just feel the clouds forming in the atmosphere, see all of the new patterns for snowflakes in his mind’s eye. It was already Spring, the pond no longer capable of remaining frozen and what little snow was left dotting the earth’s face like strange little white freckles. But that wouldn’t stop him—the Jack Frost—from conjuring up as much Winter weather as he possibly could, whenever Mother Nature allowed it.

And, well, sometimes even when she didn’t.

But that took a heck of a lot of difficult scheming, even for the master trickster.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, subconsciously calling out to the snowflakes and commanding them to him. To the earth.

He chuckled lightly as he felt the first crystal fall square onto his nose. He lifted it gently with his index finger, the tiny sculpture resting peacefully on the uppermost joint. It stayed perfectly intact, his abnormally cool body temperature permitting its sustained life. He admired its structure—it was just as he had imagined it—and then blew on it, causing it to take to the air once more, multiplying into a few more flakes as it flew. Others from the heavens soon joined it, turning quickly into a good, steady snowfall.

He was just about to head into town when he heard a noise to his left, catching him off-guard.

He turned to face its source and raised his staff defensively, a million questions and possibilities racing through his brain.

A million possibilities besides the one that he soon faced.

The noise continued, growing louder and louder. It was a sound unlike anything that Jack had ever heard before. It was like massive engines groaning while also inhaling and exhaling like a live person, but with a strained wheeze attached to each breath. It was organic yet mechanical all at the same time.

With each undulation, something began to materialize before Jack from seemingly out of nowhere. It would fade in, then out, then in again, but each time becoming increasingly more solid. A light at its top would shine brightly each time the thing became more tangible, diminishing likewise with the cycle.

It was a box. A large, rectangular…box.

Could this be the same box-thing he had seen in the sky just a minute or two ago?

His eyebrows furrowed, he continued to stare at the thing, wondering somewhere in the plethora of questions what this thing was and what its appearance meant. And what it carried.

If it carried anything.

The noise ended with a defining thump, the object that had been manifesting now completely solidified, standing tall and quiet in the fresh layer of snow.

It was so unmistakably normal that it was abnormal. Jack blinked quickly a few times, his head cocked to the side questioningly.

He had seen sisters of this one before, on his past Winter visits to England. They used to stand idly on street corners, just a part of everyday life a few decades back.

A box it was, indeed. Four-sided, rectangular, and a good three or four feet taller than the Winter spirit. A thin, rectangular sign on its front, which was facing Jack, read “POLICE Public Call BOX” in plastered white letters set on a black background for extra emphasis. The face was split into two doors, both with three equally-sized square inset panels on its front. Above these panels were two windows—again one on each side—which were each broken into six equal parts by wooden grids. The uppermost of the panels on Jack’s left side hosted a white poster specifying the basic purpose of the box, finishing with a definitive “PULL TO OPEN.” The right side bore a slim handle and, a few inches beneath it, a small keyhole. Though why a Police Box meant for the emergency use of the public should ever be locked was beyond Jack’s reasoning. The box was a deep, beautiful blue, not quite navy but not a pure blue, either. Sitting proudly on its stepped top was a cylindrical light, a lid and cage of matching blue guarding its delicate glass. All quite ordinary. It easily could have just been another one of the English Police Boxes of old, passed by on the street without a second thought given to it.

But those ones didn’t appear out of nowhere and weren’t spotted flying around in the night sky.

At least, not to the best of his centuries-old knowledge.

And, for that reason, Jack couldn’t just simply say that this thing that had appeared before him was a simple Police Box.

The snow continued to fall.

After a few more seconds of taking it all in, Jack braved a few cautious steps toward it, wondering what he would see if he opened the door. His staff still held at the ready, he freed one hand, reaching it out towards the long, metal handle that was just begging to be pulled.

But, just as his fingertips were about to make contact, a soft click came from the door, the wood creaking slightly as the door was pulled open from the inside.

In a flurry of instinct-driven movements, Jack yanked his hand away from the mysterious box and ran to the nearest tree, leaving no footprints in the soft snow. He half-ran and half-flew up to the lowest tree branch, crouching down on the balls of his feet and resting his staff-less hand on the sturdy tree trunk. It was a good hiding place—leaves and falling snow provided him with good cover, but he could easily observe the strange box without issue.

The door swung open completely, casting a golden light upon the ground. In it was the silhouette of a man.

Then, a head poked out from inside the box. Jack strained to see, but all he could make out from his distance was a lively head of brown hair. The head was then followed by the rest of a body. Tall and slim, stepping out onto the snow. The man thrust his hands into his pockets, pushing aside his long coat as he turned his face up to the sky.

“Blimey, would you look at that!” he said, the wonder and smile apparent in his voice. Jack picked up a British accent. Goes right along with the English-style Police Box.

“Snow! Real, actual snow!”

The man—who Jack assumed to be fairly young, based off of the body structure and voice—then proceeded to casually walk around, whistling as he took in the scenery, often looking back up at the clouds and chuckling lightly.

A few minutes later, Jack felt it was safe enough to approach the man who had emerged from the box.

Just as he landed back onto the now-thick blanket of snow, the man stopped in his tracks, cutting off his whistling. He turned to face Jack, who stood frozen and wide-eyed in his spot a good ways away, not having had the time to raise his staff in defense.

For a brief second, the spirit of Winter thought he felt dangerous intent coming from the man. But it was quickly gone, now nothing more than a fleeting memory.

“Oh, hello!” he greeted Jack.

Jack wasted no time, forgetting a very huge detail in all the excitement. He took a few cautious side-steps toward the man, gripping his staff tightly and never taking his eyes off of him. He still couldn’t make his details out very well from this distance. It didn’t help that it was night, or that the light from the box was between them, making all else seem so much darker.

“Who are you?” he asked. He nodded over at the Police Box. “And what’s that?”

Seeming to understand that Jack knew it was more than just your average box, the man answered. “That,” he said, also seeming to nod at the box, “is called the TARDIS. Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. And me…”

Hands still in his pockets, he strolled towards Jack, who raised his staff slightly. The man stepped into the light being cast by the TARDIS.

He smiled wide.

“…I’m The Doctor!”

Description
Not So Alone: Part 2

But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Jack leaned forward as much as he dared, his lips pursed as he scanned the night sky for any sign of the odd object. In search of a less-obstructed view, he leapt down softly from his perch on the tree branch and onto the pond below, the still water freezing instantly beneath his feet, a thin layer of swirling ice sprouting from wherever he stepped.

His search proving fruitless, he shrugged and turned around, a quick bout of Winter wind lifting him from his place on the water and setting him down on the nearby land.

It was his eyes playing tricks, after all.

A subtle change in the air brought a smile to his face. He knew what that change was. He could just feel the clouds forming in the atmosphere, see all of the new patterns for snowflakes in his mind’s eye. It was already Spring, the pond no longer capable of remaining frozen and what little snow was left dotting the earth’s face like strange little white freckles. But that wouldn’t stop him—the Jack Frost—from conjuring up as much Winter weather as he possibly could, whenever Mother Nature allowed it.

And, well, sometimes even when she didn’t.

But that took a heck of a lot of difficult scheming, even for the master trickster.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, subconsciously calling out to the snowflakes and commanding them to him. To the earth.

He chuckled lightly as he felt the first crystal fall square onto his nose. He lifted it gently with his index finger, the tiny sculpture resting peacefully on the uppermost joint. It stayed perfectly intact, his abnormally cool body temperature permitting its sustained life. He admired its structure—it was just as he had imagined it—and then blew on it, causing it to take to the air once more, multiplying into a few more flakes as it flew. Others from the heavens soon joined it, turning quickly into a good, steady snowfall.

He was just about to head into town when he heard a noise to his left, catching him off-guard.

He turned to face its source and raised his staff defensively, a million questions and possibilities racing through his brain.

A million possibilities besides the one that he soon faced.

The noise continued, growing louder and louder. It was a sound unlike anything that Jack had ever heard before. It was like massive engines groaning while also inhaling and exhaling like a live person, but with a strained wheeze attached to each breath. It was organic yet mechanical all at the same time.

With each undulation, something began to materialize before Jack from seemingly out of nowhere. It would fade in, then out, then in again, but each time becoming increasingly more solid. A light at its top would shine brightly each time the thing became more tangible, diminishing likewise with the cycle.

It was a box. A large, rectangular…box.

Could this be the same box-thing he had seen in the sky just a minute or two ago?

His eyebrows furrowed, he continued to stare at the thing, wondering somewhere in the plethora of questions what this thing was and what its appearance meant. And what it carried.

If it carried anything.

The noise ended with a defining thump, the object that had been manifesting now completely solidified, standing tall and quiet in the fresh layer of snow.

It was so unmistakably normal that it was abnormal. Jack blinked quickly a few times, his head cocked to the side questioningly.

He had seen sisters of this one before, on his past Winter visits to England. They used to stand idly on street corners, just a part of everyday life a few decades back.

A box it was, indeed. Four-sided, rectangular, and a good three or four feet taller than the Winter spirit. A thin, rectangular sign on its front, which was facing Jack, read “POLICE Public Call BOX” in plastered white letters set on a black background for extra emphasis. The face was split into two doors, both with three equally-sized square inset panels on its front. Above these panels were two windows—again one on each side—which were each broken into six equal parts by wooden grids. The uppermost of the panels on Jack’s left side hosted a white poster specifying the basic purpose of the box, finishing with a definitive “PULL TO OPEN.” The right side bore a slim handle and, a few inches beneath it, a small keyhole. Though why a Police Box meant for the emergency use of the public should ever be locked was beyond Jack’s reasoning. The box was a deep, beautiful blue, not quite navy but not a pure blue, either. Sitting proudly on its stepped top was a cylindrical light, a lid and cage of matching blue guarding its delicate glass. All quite ordinary. It easily could have just been another one of the English Police Boxes of old, passed by on the street without a second thought given to it.

But those ones didn’t appear out of nowhere and weren’t spotted flying around in the night sky.

At least, not to the best of his centuries-old knowledge.

And, for that reason, Jack couldn’t just simply say that this thing that had appeared before him was a simple Police Box.

The snow continued to fall.

After a few more seconds of taking it all in, Jack braved a few cautious steps toward it, wondering what he would see if he opened the door. His staff still held at the ready, he freed one hand, reaching it out towards the long, metal handle that was just begging to be pulled.

But, just as his fingertips were about to make contact, a soft click came from the door, the wood creaking slightly as the door was pulled open from the inside.

In a flurry of instinct-driven movements, Jack yanked his hand away from the mysterious box and ran to the nearest tree, leaving no footprints in the soft snow. He half-ran and half-flew up to the lowest tree branch, crouching down on the balls of his feet and resting his staff-less hand on the sturdy tree trunk. It was a good hiding place—leaves and falling snow provided him with good cover, but he could easily observe the strange box without issue.

The door swung open completely, casting a golden light upon the ground. In it was the silhouette of a man.

Then, a head poked out from inside the box. Jack strained to see, but all he could make out from his distance was a lively head of brown hair. The head was then followed by the rest of a body. Tall and slim, stepping out onto the snow. The man thrust his hands into his pockets, pushing aside his long coat as he turned his face up to the sky.

“Blimey, would you look at that!” he said, the wonder and smile apparent in his voice. Jack picked up a British accent. Goes right along with the English-style Police Box.

“Snow! Real, actual snow!”

The man—who Jack assumed to be fairly young, based off of the body structure and voice—then proceeded to casually walk around, whistling as he took in the scenery, often looking back up at the clouds and chuckling lightly.

A few minutes later, Jack felt it was safe enough to approach the man who had emerged from the box.

Just as he landed back onto the now-thick blanket of snow, the man stopped in his tracks, cutting off his whistling. He turned to face Jack, who stood frozen and wide-eyed in his spot a good ways away, not having had the time to raise his staff in defense.

For a brief second, the spirit of Winter thought he felt dangerous intent coming from the man. But it was quickly gone, now nothing more than a fleeting memory.

“Oh, hello!” he greeted Jack.

Jack wasted no time, forgetting a very huge detail in all the excitement. He took a few cautious side-steps toward the man, gripping his staff tightly and never taking his eyes off of him. He still couldn’t make his details out very well from this distance. It didn’t help that it was night, or that the light from the box was between them, making all else seem so much darker.

“Who are you?” he asked. He nodded over at the Police Box. “And what’s that?”

Seeming to understand that Jack knew it was more than just your average box, the man answered. “That,” he said, also seeming to nod at the box, “is called the TARDIS. Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. And me…”

Hands still in his pockets, he strolled towards Jack, who raised his staff slightly. The man stepped into the light being cast by the TARDIS.

He smiled wide.

“…I’m The Doctor!”