Garo
Boy Wonder
Welcome to the tenth round of the Zelda Dungeon Writing Community Competition, where each week, our gifted writers show off their skills by tackling a unique theme, our wonderful community gets to vote on their favorite, and we do it all over again the next round.
Last round we had four entries dealing with the theme "Power" - you voted, and the winner of round 10 is... A Link In Time! His piece about Ganondorf's fate in The Wind Waker won the readers' votes, and he'll receive an award for his postbit and be featured on the main page.
This round, the theme was "Hearts", a ubiquitous item within the Zelda series, but also an icon with much meaning outside the series. We had four entries this week as well, so make sure you read each one and vote for your favorite in the poll above.
As before, you have two weeks to enter the next competition with your own piece based on the theme...
Submissions are due in PM by Friday, October 6th at 9:00 PM EST.
Last round we had four entries dealing with the theme "Power" - you voted, and the winner of round 10 is... A Link In Time! His piece about Ganondorf's fate in The Wind Waker won the readers' votes, and he'll receive an award for his postbit and be featured on the main page.
This round, the theme was "Hearts", a ubiquitous item within the Zelda series, but also an icon with much meaning outside the series. We had four entries this week as well, so make sure you read each one and vote for your favorite in the poll above.
A Link In Time
The Power From Within
Left, right, left, right. The gravel crunched under feet. She fell. She rose. She fell. Why had the life evaporated from her veins? The memory came crashing in as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Hey babe,” a voice bellowed from behind. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing so far from home? It’s dangerous to be strolling these parts alone. There are a plethora of rapists on the loose.”
“What do you know?” she retorted, her red, dry lips parting for the rushed response. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be shunned.”
“Everyone here does,” the earlier voice resonated. Its speaker emerged from the shadows, an Indian man in his mid-fifties with a jagged scar running down his face line. “We’re here because we’re freaks. They jailed me time and time again in the normal world. I had to find requiem and this was the only place to offer it for me. What’s your story?”
She struggled to suppress her tears. Her heart was bound to give way. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and began her tale.
“I was always top of the class. My fellow students looked up to me for guidance and assistance. I was the star, the valedictorian to be. Everything changed, however, with one puff. One puff of white powder…”
“Ah, so you’re a druggie,” the scar-faced Indian interrupted.
“Shut the damn hell up,” the woman raged. “What gives you the right to throw accusations around? What’s your name, anyhow?! I’ll report you to the cops if you utter a word more. This time you won’t elude your cell”.
“Name’s Little Feather. On record, however, it’s Gavin. I had to change it in order to comply with Western norms; couldn’t risk being associated with the negative stereotypes of my people, the debauchery, the recklessness, the sex scandals.”
“Sex scandals, eh? Those are what ruined my life. Drug addictions led me to drop out of school. My parents abandoned me and I needed a way to sustain myself. I turned to prostitution”. The woman looked away in disgrace.
“Let’s walk on inside,” Gavin suggested. “We’ll fetch you some soup and a hot dinner to eat. Make yourself at home, hun.”
“Name’s Anita, by the way,” the lady whispered, wrapping her arm around Gavin’s back as they entered a nearby run-down motel.
***
Gavin directed her towards a table with a bald looking fellow already seated.
“Why are you at this freak asylum” Anita inquired. “You look fairly normal to me. What’s your story?”
“I’m gay. People couldn’t accept me for who I was. I was prejudiced against while applying for jobs; I couldn’t donate blood; my marriage was considered illegitimate by law.”
The blood coursed towards Anita’s forehead once more. She couldn’t take it. Soon she would explode. Without glancing back, her high heels banged across the tarmac as she dashed out.
***
The night stars greeted her eyes as she awoke from her slumber. Gavin was next to her, lightly snoring.
“Why are people so judgmental?” she wondered. Was there no such thing as a second chance?
To accept: That was the key towards living a true life. It didn’t matter what color someone’s skin was, their gender or sexual orientation; even past legal transgressions could be forgotten in hopes of paving a better tomorrow.
She made up her mind. She would set things right. Millions toiled amidst cruel conditions day-in and day-out. She would reverse that trend.
“You’re seriously not pondering departing, are you? Because if you are, you’re one hell of a woman. You’d have bigger balls than me; if you had any. You know you can’t win. The cogs have been twisting since the dawn of time; they’re twisting right now; they’ll twist tomorrow and the day after that”.
Gavin had awoken but his ramble did nothing to dampen her spirits.
“You’re right, Gavin. But I have all of you. Together we can band together to put an end to injustice. There are others in this same precarious situation. Everyone should be treated equally. The valor, optimism, and care spawned from the human heart knows only the limit of the human spirit.”
Cfrock
Friendly Competition
“I fold.” Steve Herz threw down his worthless cards and accepted another lost hand. That was the third one in a row. He was haemorrhaging money and had almost none left.
“Guess the Lady is smiling at me tonight.” Frank Bradford, a hulking brute of a man, laughed as he grabbed the money in the middle of the table and dragged it towards himself. Once more he had won the hand.
Frank made quite a show of stacking his winnings neatly. It wasn’t fair! Frank obviously had plenty of money; he didn’t need the several thousand pounds he’d already won in the game. Steve was in dire straits financially. He had just lost his job and with a baby on the way he couldn’t afford to lose like this.
One more hand, he told himself, just one more hand to win back my money.
“Well I’m spent. Night lads.” The only other player at the table left. For the next hand it would just be Steve and Frank.
Frank looked hard at Steve. “Are you gonna wimp out too? Or are you gonna let me take the last of your money?” Steve wanted to leave while he still had some cash. It would be selfish to play again. But what if he won? The money wasn’t just for him; it was for Julie and their unborn child. He had to at least try, for their sake.
Steve returned Frank’s stare. “One more.” Frank gave a derisive snort and began shuffling the cards. What have I done?! thought Steve. This £200 is all the money I have left. If I lose this…
Frank dealt the cards, two each. He checked his own, his face revealing nothing. Steve looked at his cards, a ten and a queen, both in hearts. He kept his face impassive. Steve opened with a small bet, £5. Frank matched it and proceeded to burn the top card on the deck and deal the flop.
Steve almost gasped as he saw Frank lay down the jack and ace of hearts next to the four of clubs. He fought to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let Frank know how fortuitous he had been.
I still need the king, Steve told himself in an effort to calm down. Without the king I could still lose.
“Bet.” ordered Frank.
Steve tried to leave emotion off his face. “£50.” He threw the bank notes into the centre of the table.
Frank looked again at his cards. “Check.” He threw £50 into the pot himself. His pile of money seemed undiminished.
Frank burnt the top card again and dealt the turn. It was a jack in spades. Useless to Steve but what did it mean to Frank? Steve tried to predict what hands Frank could make but his mind was too distracted by his desperation for that lovely king.
Steve noticed he was breathing rather fast and tried to stop so as not to give away his excitement. He noticed Frank staring at him and realised he had to move the game forward. “Check.” He didn’t want to commit more money before he saw the final card. Frank raised by £50, putting the cash with the rest of the pot.
Steve’s mouth went dry. He had to match the bet to stay in the game. Did Frank suspect he had a potentially miraculous hand? Was he trying to buy the pot? Without a word, Steve threw in another £50. He looked at Frank, hoping he looked cool and calm.
To Steve’s relief, Frank grunted and then burnt the top card before dealing the river, the fifth and final card. There was a brief flicker across Frank’s face that betrayed his disappointment. Steve remained master of his emotions enough to not show what he now felt. It was an internal battle he might lose at any moment. The river, that blessed fifth card, was the king of hearts. Steve was holding an unbeatable royal flush.
Frank—no doubt annoyed with a lacklustre hand—gave a sharp bark from across the table that brought Steve back to the reality of the game. Steve suddenly became aware that if he could get Frank to go all-in, he could walk away with £2,500. He had the highest possible hand, there was nothing to lose!
Steve made a show of swallowing, sniffed loudly and began to fidget a little. He wanted Frank to think he had no confidence in his cards, so that when he bet everything, Frank would see it as a bluff. “All-in.” Steve slowly pushed his remaining money into the middle of the table. He kept his eyes low to add to the effect and hoped Frank would be taken in by his ruse.
“Call!” The word was almost bellowed from across the table. Steve watched Frank shove his pile of cash into the middle of the table. This was it. Steve had got all of the money in play and he held onto a guaranteed winning hand. A smug grin spread across his face. He looked at Frank and turned over his cards, revealing the flush. Frank looked at the cards for a moment and when he realised what they meant, he swore loudly and tore up his own.
Unable to do anything about the result, Frank cursed Steve and left in a fury. Giddy with delight, Steve sorted his winnings and stuffed them into his wallet. He stood up and went to get a drink from the bar, a quiet celebration of his triumph.
It was two hours later. Steve, tipsy from his drinks, walked out into the street. He was still elated from his victory at the poker table. He didn’t notice the movement in the alleyway behind him. A strong hand gripped his collar and thrust him into the shadows. Steve felt a hot pain erupt from his chest as a knife slid deep between his ribs.
“Nobody takes Frank Bradford for a ride.”
MadameMajora
The once great Time Lord stood in his TARDIS, doors open as it drifted through the blackness of space. Tiny pinpricks in the sky winked at him, stars, galaxies, light years away.
The time was coming. He could feel it in his hearts, the ones that had resiliently kept beating for over 2000 years, through every regeneration, up until his very last. He could feel it. Oh yes, it wouldn't be long now.
The TARDIS groaned softly and he walked over and laid a hand on the console.
"Not yet, old girl," he whispered. "We've still got a bit of time yet."
The machine was old now, too, with contraptions scattered across the floor, and the blue paint finally beginning to peel from the box's exterior. He had never been able to fix that chameleon circuit after all, but perhaps, he thought, he liked it the way it was. His companions certainly had, at any rate.
His companions. So many, coming and going through the years, through every incarnation, and yet he remembered every single one. How he wished he could see them all again. His Sarah Jane, young Amelia Pond and her husband, Rose Tyler, stranded in another universe with the duplicate of his 10th incarnation. Adric, Ace, Nyssa...all gone now. What he wouldn't give to spend one last day with Donna Noble, take down hostile aliens with the ever-brave River Song, visit Ian and Barbara, his first companions, the first humans to ever set foot in his machine...
He'd known this day was coming, known it for the longest time, ever since he'd stolen the TARDIS and flown away while Gallifrey was destroyed behind him. The steady beat of his hearts acted like a timer, pounding away, ticking away the time he had left, through every regeneration. He remembered when he'd been young, youthful, full of energy, despite being over 900...
Well, he was old now, unspeakably old. He'd seen the universe, the entirety of time and space. His hands, ancient hands, wrinkled and thin, shook as he pressed them against the dying machine.
Funny, how all those monsters, unspeakably horrors, had chased him for years and yeaers, all shouting the same question after him.
"Doctor Who?"
He supposed he'd gotten the better of them in the long run, because here he was about to go, and they'd never know the answer. Nobody would. And that was alright with him, because the Doctor had always worked just fine. The Doctor. Yes, he'd always loved that.
The TARDIS shuddered one more time, and he knew it was time. He reached out shakily for one lever, and gave it one last good yank. The machine rocked. Groaned. And he piloted it far away, to the very end of the universe, when all the planets and all the stars to ever exist had collapsed and burned away. All the races were gone. Daleks, humans, Silurians, the Slitheen, and countless others, billions upon billions. Even the Universe itself was collapsing. But it was time.
He closed his eyes, and felt his hearts slowing down. His ever faithful hearts were finally finished their job. He touched the TARDIS fondly as the machine went dark.
"Thanks for the ride, you sexy thing,"
And with that final whisper, the Last of the Time Lords took his last breath.
fin.
Wiggy
Hearts
The rain descended so heavily that it obscured the land. Capt. Viscen could hardly see his men scour the scene for clues.
“Sir, it’s him again.” reported one officer; the officer motioned towards a small tuft of grass.
“Did we find a body with this one?” asked Viscen. The officer simply shook his head and carried on with his duties.
The length of the grass obscured its contents, but not the stench. It smelt like an abattoir. Viscen didn’t gag, it was the third one he had seen since it started and he was unimpressed this time. He admired the criminal. It was something he could never do, to care so little about consequence. That was a kind of freedom he never had. The heavy hand of the law had always weighed upon Viscen’s shoulders. Viscen could conceive of no reason for someone to do this; it was brutality for brutality’s sake. Had the teeth marks not been proven to be human, he would have dismissed the crime as the actions of a beast.
Viscen gently moved the grass aside, not startled nor moved by the pathetic mound of flesh in the middle.
“He took a bite out of it again, left it here,” Viscen muttered to himself, but why, he thought? A cannibal enjoys the taste of human flesh, why would they leave half a heart?
Years of experience had given Viscen a sense almost indistinguishable from precognition. Viscen was uneasy but focused. Somebody was there who shouldn’t be. Amongst the steel helms of the guard there was a hat, peaking above all, its emerald hue betraying its wearer.
“What interest has the Princess here, Link?” Link simply walked past, looked around, and then carried on.
Viscen grunted. How arrogant, he thought. Saved the world once, gets a cushy job, and refuses to acknowledge the world. Right hand man of the Princess? I save the damn day every damn day. Viscen returned to the grass, but the heart was gone. A cold dread filled Viscen. Someone had taken it. It could only have been Link, he was the closest.
Viscen panicked! He was here mere moments ago. He scanned the area for that hat, the rain stung his eyes. He couldn’t find the hat, but it didn’t matter, Epona was waiting dutifully for her master at the edge of the scene. “Quick! Somebody! Restrain that horse!” A couple of nearby guards took hold of Epona’s reins, she didn’t struggle. She was used to the guards. Link simply showed his royal seal to the guards, they didn’t move an inch.
Viscen stood behind Link, “How about you try showing them the heart?” The guards grabbed his arms and took him into the town.
Light burst into Links eyes. He blinked and he wrenched at his binds. He looks like an insect caught in a web, mused Viscen.
“Why don’t you eat all of them? Seems a bit half hearted, doesn’t it?” Viscen permitted himself a cackle. Link squirmed and shook his head violently. “Do you deny the charges? It is a lot of murders, not to mention the desecration.” Link nodded feverishly.
“I don’t need you to talk, I already know everything. You’re the killer. Why else would you try to steal the heart?” Viscen was waiting for the denial, the excuses. He had heard it all before, no one was ever guilty. Link remained silent. Viscen slammed his fist into the table. “What I don’t know is why?” Link’s silence was annoying Viscen. He wanted a reaction, he wanted to hear something. Link was facing the floor, avoiding his glare like a reprimanded child.
As he watched Link avoid his glare something felt wrong. Viscen had seen serial killers before, not many of them were sorry about their crimes, but Link seemed certainly that. Viscen’s thoughts were interrupted by a messenger.
“Sir, the Princess demands that you release Hero Link at once!” announced the messenger.
“And if I refuse?” replied Viscen.
“Then Link shall bring your badge with him when he returns to the castle.”
“Oh!”
“And another thing, escort Link yourself if you intend upon being a guard tomorrow.”
“Got it.” answered Viscen.
The messenger left without even looking at Link. Viscen thought this might happen, he didn’t really have a plan for it. He guessed he would just tell the Princess the truth. Dutifully, Viscen accompanied Link to the castle, a hand hovering over his blade.
The castle cut an impressive silhouette in the sky. The huge wooden doors were intimidating to guests; perhaps more so to attackers thought Viscen. His and Link’s steps made echoing taps upon the stonework inside. The castle seemed uninviting, almost unattended and left to nature.
Link lead the way, he diverted down a corridor away from the main hall and took Viscen down some cramped stairs. At the bottom was an iron door, link banged upon it until it was opened. Inside there was a massive furnace, big enough to service all of the town’s blacksmiths.
“Why have you brought me here?” demanded Viscen.
“Because he was ordered to.” The Princess emerged from the shadows behind Viscen. “By me.”
“My lady!” Viscen went to courtesy, but stopped himself. This situation was too worrying for etiquette. “Hero Link was found stealing evidence from a crime scene, I must arrest him.”
“There is no need for that Captain Viscen. He was carrying out my orders. You have a brave heart Capt. Viscen, it has served this town proudly, but like all things here, it ultimately belongs to me.”
A damning truth dawned on Viscen, his grip on his sword went numb and fear traced its way down his spine.
The Princess appeared unmoved: “Why else would he try to snatch the heart from in front of you when he has a perfectly good clawshot with him? I wanted you here.” She twirled her hair in her fingers. “Human hearts impart the most wisdom you know. It’s a secret to everybody, except me.”
The Power From Within
Left, right, left, right. The gravel crunched under feet. She fell. She rose. She fell. Why had the life evaporated from her veins? The memory came crashing in as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Hey babe,” a voice bellowed from behind. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing so far from home? It’s dangerous to be strolling these parts alone. There are a plethora of rapists on the loose.”
“What do you know?” she retorted, her red, dry lips parting for the rushed response. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be shunned.”
“Everyone here does,” the earlier voice resonated. Its speaker emerged from the shadows, an Indian man in his mid-fifties with a jagged scar running down his face line. “We’re here because we’re freaks. They jailed me time and time again in the normal world. I had to find requiem and this was the only place to offer it for me. What’s your story?”
She struggled to suppress her tears. Her heart was bound to give way. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and began her tale.
“I was always top of the class. My fellow students looked up to me for guidance and assistance. I was the star, the valedictorian to be. Everything changed, however, with one puff. One puff of white powder…”
“Ah, so you’re a druggie,” the scar-faced Indian interrupted.
“Shut the damn hell up,” the woman raged. “What gives you the right to throw accusations around? What’s your name, anyhow?! I’ll report you to the cops if you utter a word more. This time you won’t elude your cell”.
“Name’s Little Feather. On record, however, it’s Gavin. I had to change it in order to comply with Western norms; couldn’t risk being associated with the negative stereotypes of my people, the debauchery, the recklessness, the sex scandals.”
“Sex scandals, eh? Those are what ruined my life. Drug addictions led me to drop out of school. My parents abandoned me and I needed a way to sustain myself. I turned to prostitution”. The woman looked away in disgrace.
“Let’s walk on inside,” Gavin suggested. “We’ll fetch you some soup and a hot dinner to eat. Make yourself at home, hun.”
“Name’s Anita, by the way,” the lady whispered, wrapping her arm around Gavin’s back as they entered a nearby run-down motel.
***
Gavin directed her towards a table with a bald looking fellow already seated.
“Why are you at this freak asylum” Anita inquired. “You look fairly normal to me. What’s your story?”
“I’m gay. People couldn’t accept me for who I was. I was prejudiced against while applying for jobs; I couldn’t donate blood; my marriage was considered illegitimate by law.”
The blood coursed towards Anita’s forehead once more. She couldn’t take it. Soon she would explode. Without glancing back, her high heels banged across the tarmac as she dashed out.
***
The night stars greeted her eyes as she awoke from her slumber. Gavin was next to her, lightly snoring.
“Why are people so judgmental?” she wondered. Was there no such thing as a second chance?
To accept: That was the key towards living a true life. It didn’t matter what color someone’s skin was, their gender or sexual orientation; even past legal transgressions could be forgotten in hopes of paving a better tomorrow.
She made up her mind. She would set things right. Millions toiled amidst cruel conditions day-in and day-out. She would reverse that trend.
“You’re seriously not pondering departing, are you? Because if you are, you’re one hell of a woman. You’d have bigger balls than me; if you had any. You know you can’t win. The cogs have been twisting since the dawn of time; they’re twisting right now; they’ll twist tomorrow and the day after that”.
Gavin had awoken but his ramble did nothing to dampen her spirits.
“You’re right, Gavin. But I have all of you. Together we can band together to put an end to injustice. There are others in this same precarious situation. Everyone should be treated equally. The valor, optimism, and care spawned from the human heart knows only the limit of the human spirit.”
Cfrock
Friendly Competition
“I fold.” Steve Herz threw down his worthless cards and accepted another lost hand. That was the third one in a row. He was haemorrhaging money and had almost none left.
“Guess the Lady is smiling at me tonight.” Frank Bradford, a hulking brute of a man, laughed as he grabbed the money in the middle of the table and dragged it towards himself. Once more he had won the hand.
Frank made quite a show of stacking his winnings neatly. It wasn’t fair! Frank obviously had plenty of money; he didn’t need the several thousand pounds he’d already won in the game. Steve was in dire straits financially. He had just lost his job and with a baby on the way he couldn’t afford to lose like this.
One more hand, he told himself, just one more hand to win back my money.
“Well I’m spent. Night lads.” The only other player at the table left. For the next hand it would just be Steve and Frank.
Frank looked hard at Steve. “Are you gonna wimp out too? Or are you gonna let me take the last of your money?” Steve wanted to leave while he still had some cash. It would be selfish to play again. But what if he won? The money wasn’t just for him; it was for Julie and their unborn child. He had to at least try, for their sake.
Steve returned Frank’s stare. “One more.” Frank gave a derisive snort and began shuffling the cards. What have I done?! thought Steve. This £200 is all the money I have left. If I lose this…
Frank dealt the cards, two each. He checked his own, his face revealing nothing. Steve looked at his cards, a ten and a queen, both in hearts. He kept his face impassive. Steve opened with a small bet, £5. Frank matched it and proceeded to burn the top card on the deck and deal the flop.
Steve almost gasped as he saw Frank lay down the jack and ace of hearts next to the four of clubs. He fought to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let Frank know how fortuitous he had been.
I still need the king, Steve told himself in an effort to calm down. Without the king I could still lose.
“Bet.” ordered Frank.
Steve tried to leave emotion off his face. “£50.” He threw the bank notes into the centre of the table.
Frank looked again at his cards. “Check.” He threw £50 into the pot himself. His pile of money seemed undiminished.
Frank burnt the top card again and dealt the turn. It was a jack in spades. Useless to Steve but what did it mean to Frank? Steve tried to predict what hands Frank could make but his mind was too distracted by his desperation for that lovely king.
Steve noticed he was breathing rather fast and tried to stop so as not to give away his excitement. He noticed Frank staring at him and realised he had to move the game forward. “Check.” He didn’t want to commit more money before he saw the final card. Frank raised by £50, putting the cash with the rest of the pot.
Steve’s mouth went dry. He had to match the bet to stay in the game. Did Frank suspect he had a potentially miraculous hand? Was he trying to buy the pot? Without a word, Steve threw in another £50. He looked at Frank, hoping he looked cool and calm.
To Steve’s relief, Frank grunted and then burnt the top card before dealing the river, the fifth and final card. There was a brief flicker across Frank’s face that betrayed his disappointment. Steve remained master of his emotions enough to not show what he now felt. It was an internal battle he might lose at any moment. The river, that blessed fifth card, was the king of hearts. Steve was holding an unbeatable royal flush.
Frank—no doubt annoyed with a lacklustre hand—gave a sharp bark from across the table that brought Steve back to the reality of the game. Steve suddenly became aware that if he could get Frank to go all-in, he could walk away with £2,500. He had the highest possible hand, there was nothing to lose!
Steve made a show of swallowing, sniffed loudly and began to fidget a little. He wanted Frank to think he had no confidence in his cards, so that when he bet everything, Frank would see it as a bluff. “All-in.” Steve slowly pushed his remaining money into the middle of the table. He kept his eyes low to add to the effect and hoped Frank would be taken in by his ruse.
“Call!” The word was almost bellowed from across the table. Steve watched Frank shove his pile of cash into the middle of the table. This was it. Steve had got all of the money in play and he held onto a guaranteed winning hand. A smug grin spread across his face. He looked at Frank and turned over his cards, revealing the flush. Frank looked at the cards for a moment and when he realised what they meant, he swore loudly and tore up his own.
Unable to do anything about the result, Frank cursed Steve and left in a fury. Giddy with delight, Steve sorted his winnings and stuffed them into his wallet. He stood up and went to get a drink from the bar, a quiet celebration of his triumph.
It was two hours later. Steve, tipsy from his drinks, walked out into the street. He was still elated from his victory at the poker table. He didn’t notice the movement in the alleyway behind him. A strong hand gripped his collar and thrust him into the shadows. Steve felt a hot pain erupt from his chest as a knife slid deep between his ribs.
“Nobody takes Frank Bradford for a ride.”
MadameMajora
The once great Time Lord stood in his TARDIS, doors open as it drifted through the blackness of space. Tiny pinpricks in the sky winked at him, stars, galaxies, light years away.
The time was coming. He could feel it in his hearts, the ones that had resiliently kept beating for over 2000 years, through every regeneration, up until his very last. He could feel it. Oh yes, it wouldn't be long now.
The TARDIS groaned softly and he walked over and laid a hand on the console.
"Not yet, old girl," he whispered. "We've still got a bit of time yet."
The machine was old now, too, with contraptions scattered across the floor, and the blue paint finally beginning to peel from the box's exterior. He had never been able to fix that chameleon circuit after all, but perhaps, he thought, he liked it the way it was. His companions certainly had, at any rate.
His companions. So many, coming and going through the years, through every incarnation, and yet he remembered every single one. How he wished he could see them all again. His Sarah Jane, young Amelia Pond and her husband, Rose Tyler, stranded in another universe with the duplicate of his 10th incarnation. Adric, Ace, Nyssa...all gone now. What he wouldn't give to spend one last day with Donna Noble, take down hostile aliens with the ever-brave River Song, visit Ian and Barbara, his first companions, the first humans to ever set foot in his machine...
He'd known this day was coming, known it for the longest time, ever since he'd stolen the TARDIS and flown away while Gallifrey was destroyed behind him. The steady beat of his hearts acted like a timer, pounding away, ticking away the time he had left, through every regeneration. He remembered when he'd been young, youthful, full of energy, despite being over 900...
Well, he was old now, unspeakably old. He'd seen the universe, the entirety of time and space. His hands, ancient hands, wrinkled and thin, shook as he pressed them against the dying machine.
Funny, how all those monsters, unspeakably horrors, had chased him for years and yeaers, all shouting the same question after him.
"Doctor Who?"
He supposed he'd gotten the better of them in the long run, because here he was about to go, and they'd never know the answer. Nobody would. And that was alright with him, because the Doctor had always worked just fine. The Doctor. Yes, he'd always loved that.
The TARDIS shuddered one more time, and he knew it was time. He reached out shakily for one lever, and gave it one last good yank. The machine rocked. Groaned. And he piloted it far away, to the very end of the universe, when all the planets and all the stars to ever exist had collapsed and burned away. All the races were gone. Daleks, humans, Silurians, the Slitheen, and countless others, billions upon billions. Even the Universe itself was collapsing. But it was time.
He closed his eyes, and felt his hearts slowing down. His ever faithful hearts were finally finished their job. He touched the TARDIS fondly as the machine went dark.
"Thanks for the ride, you sexy thing,"
And with that final whisper, the Last of the Time Lords took his last breath.
fin.
Wiggy
Hearts
The rain descended so heavily that it obscured the land. Capt. Viscen could hardly see his men scour the scene for clues.
“Sir, it’s him again.” reported one officer; the officer motioned towards a small tuft of grass.
“Did we find a body with this one?” asked Viscen. The officer simply shook his head and carried on with his duties.
The length of the grass obscured its contents, but not the stench. It smelt like an abattoir. Viscen didn’t gag, it was the third one he had seen since it started and he was unimpressed this time. He admired the criminal. It was something he could never do, to care so little about consequence. That was a kind of freedom he never had. The heavy hand of the law had always weighed upon Viscen’s shoulders. Viscen could conceive of no reason for someone to do this; it was brutality for brutality’s sake. Had the teeth marks not been proven to be human, he would have dismissed the crime as the actions of a beast.
Viscen gently moved the grass aside, not startled nor moved by the pathetic mound of flesh in the middle.
“He took a bite out of it again, left it here,” Viscen muttered to himself, but why, he thought? A cannibal enjoys the taste of human flesh, why would they leave half a heart?
Years of experience had given Viscen a sense almost indistinguishable from precognition. Viscen was uneasy but focused. Somebody was there who shouldn’t be. Amongst the steel helms of the guard there was a hat, peaking above all, its emerald hue betraying its wearer.
“What interest has the Princess here, Link?” Link simply walked past, looked around, and then carried on.
Viscen grunted. How arrogant, he thought. Saved the world once, gets a cushy job, and refuses to acknowledge the world. Right hand man of the Princess? I save the damn day every damn day. Viscen returned to the grass, but the heart was gone. A cold dread filled Viscen. Someone had taken it. It could only have been Link, he was the closest.
Viscen panicked! He was here mere moments ago. He scanned the area for that hat, the rain stung his eyes. He couldn’t find the hat, but it didn’t matter, Epona was waiting dutifully for her master at the edge of the scene. “Quick! Somebody! Restrain that horse!” A couple of nearby guards took hold of Epona’s reins, she didn’t struggle. She was used to the guards. Link simply showed his royal seal to the guards, they didn’t move an inch.
Viscen stood behind Link, “How about you try showing them the heart?” The guards grabbed his arms and took him into the town.
Light burst into Links eyes. He blinked and he wrenched at his binds. He looks like an insect caught in a web, mused Viscen.
“Why don’t you eat all of them? Seems a bit half hearted, doesn’t it?” Viscen permitted himself a cackle. Link squirmed and shook his head violently. “Do you deny the charges? It is a lot of murders, not to mention the desecration.” Link nodded feverishly.
“I don’t need you to talk, I already know everything. You’re the killer. Why else would you try to steal the heart?” Viscen was waiting for the denial, the excuses. He had heard it all before, no one was ever guilty. Link remained silent. Viscen slammed his fist into the table. “What I don’t know is why?” Link’s silence was annoying Viscen. He wanted a reaction, he wanted to hear something. Link was facing the floor, avoiding his glare like a reprimanded child.
As he watched Link avoid his glare something felt wrong. Viscen had seen serial killers before, not many of them were sorry about their crimes, but Link seemed certainly that. Viscen’s thoughts were interrupted by a messenger.
“Sir, the Princess demands that you release Hero Link at once!” announced the messenger.
“And if I refuse?” replied Viscen.
“Then Link shall bring your badge with him when he returns to the castle.”
“Oh!”
“And another thing, escort Link yourself if you intend upon being a guard tomorrow.”
“Got it.” answered Viscen.
The messenger left without even looking at Link. Viscen thought this might happen, he didn’t really have a plan for it. He guessed he would just tell the Princess the truth. Dutifully, Viscen accompanied Link to the castle, a hand hovering over his blade.
The castle cut an impressive silhouette in the sky. The huge wooden doors were intimidating to guests; perhaps more so to attackers thought Viscen. His and Link’s steps made echoing taps upon the stonework inside. The castle seemed uninviting, almost unattended and left to nature.
Link lead the way, he diverted down a corridor away from the main hall and took Viscen down some cramped stairs. At the bottom was an iron door, link banged upon it until it was opened. Inside there was a massive furnace, big enough to service all of the town’s blacksmiths.
“Why have you brought me here?” demanded Viscen.
“Because he was ordered to.” The Princess emerged from the shadows behind Viscen. “By me.”
“My lady!” Viscen went to courtesy, but stopped himself. This situation was too worrying for etiquette. “Hero Link was found stealing evidence from a crime scene, I must arrest him.”
“There is no need for that Captain Viscen. He was carrying out my orders. You have a brave heart Capt. Viscen, it has served this town proudly, but like all things here, it ultimately belongs to me.”
A damning truth dawned on Viscen, his grip on his sword went numb and fear traced its way down his spine.
The Princess appeared unmoved: “Why else would he try to snatch the heart from in front of you when he has a perfectly good clawshot with him? I wanted you here.” She twirled her hair in her fingers. “Human hearts impart the most wisdom you know. It’s a secret to everybody, except me.”
As before, you have two weeks to enter the next competition with your own piece based on the theme...
Time
Max. 1000 words
Max. 1000 words
Submissions are due in PM by Friday, October 6th at 9:00 PM EST.
