• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 232 0

in a few months and her father had often warned her to be on her guard against ‘depressing thoughts’ as she got older. And, given what had happened lately, it was no surprise that the entire village seemed less lively than usual. Of course, everybody knew that death was a normal part of life, like night-time as a necessary opposite to day, but Jude had found herself dwelling on such things recently.

This morning there had been another empty desk in the schoolroom. Jude didn’t really know Farah all that well, but Sayan had said that Farah’s mother had been up since daybreak, searching the village, eyes raw and red with crying. The other children had tried to ignore the empty desk, but Jude kept looking over at it, still shocked by everyone’s resigned acceptance. Jude couldn’t just accept what had happened; she didn’t understand what caused the children to disappear, but she knew, somehow, that it must be fought against. It must be resisted, not given in to.

One window looked out towards the lake and its small island. Farah had played on the shore only yesterday, orchestrating some of the younger children into a game of catchball. She’d laughed when the mist seemed to roll off the surface of the lake and onto the fields, running through the fog and flapping her arms in defiance and laughter.

And now the fog had taken her…

Or had it?

Jude blinked, rubbing her eyes. Wasn’t there someone out there now? A dark form, its humanity stripped away by the obscuring grey haze, until it resembled little more than a child’s stick drawing flailing in the mist. It was probably nothing, some adult taking a shortcut behind the school on their way home.

Suddenly the fog parted, and Jude almost cried out in surprise. She continued to stare, ignoring everything around her, paying no heed to the icicle fingers that were now running up and down her spine.

Farah stood outside, drained of colour, seemingly drained of life, staring at the school with grim, uncomprehending fascination. Even her clothes, which suddenly seemed to hang from her pale, thin body, appeared as if bleached and drained of all vibrancy.

‘Jude, are you paying attention?’

Jude snapped her head back into the classroom. Mr Somo was standing over her, his face screwed up in irritation, a vein at the side of his head pulsing slowly. ‘Sir, it’s…’

Jude looked back towards the lake. In a moment, the fog seemed to have receded, leaving a pristine field of grass that cried out for children to play over it. Of the pale figure there was absolutely no sign.

‘What?’ Somo’s face leaned ever closer.

Jude shook her head, concerned – but aware that her own troubles were only just beginning if she couldn’t placate Mr Somo.

‘Sorry, sir… Just daydreaming.’

‘Perhaps a little extra homework would help you focus on the task at hand?’ Mr Somo stood staring for a few moments more, then returned to his position at the front of the class. ‘If you could all now begin the exercise in front of you…’

As Jude began to write she risked one last glance through the window.

There was no one there.

They walked into the village in silence. Martha wasn’t sure if in some strange way they had offended Saul, or if he now simply considered them mad and was giving them a wide berth.

As they approached the large, ceremonial building that dominated one end of the central green, the Doctor nudged Martha in the ribs. ‘What do you make of this place?’ he whispered.

‘Odd,’ said Martha, still struggling with the implications of what the Doctor had said to Saul. ‘I don’t see a supermarket or a fast food place anywhere,’ she added, trying to make light of the situation.

‘All right, given that,’ said the Doctor, patiently, ‘what do you think of its architecture, its style, its culture… In Earth terms, does it suggest anything at all?’

Martha looked around, trying to take it all in. ‘Well, I suppose… I don’t know really… Tibet?’

‘A mishmash of influences from Earth,’ said the Doctor. ‘All jumbled together, along with stuff