Friday, December 05, 2008

Personal Literary Archaeology

Laura and I were rewatching Season IV of Dr Who last night and it rang a very faint memory bell for me. A little work with spotlight and hey presto I'd dug out the three pieces of a Dr Who themed serial that I'd written for a zine called Pirate Radio Neptune back around the end of 1994, years before my first actual sale. Anyway, I thought I'd post them here as a window into the head of a developing writer. There were supposed to be two more, and if people are sufficiently entertained I might even write them. Here's the first.

Melvin rubbed at his eyes. Staring into a computer monitor for hours on end could really take it out of you. But, it was well worth it. After thirty two straight hours he had solved the Dalek riddle. Now he would have some real status in the Dr Who MUD. He got up from his desk and put on his world war two surplus trench and the real Dr. Who scarf that his mother had made for him. Then it was down the stairs and out the door. He was going to SA to grab a case of Mountain Dew and some jelly beans. Nothing like caffeine and sugar to pick you up. It was dark out. No surprise. It was close to midnight. He was about half a block from the store when he felt the tug on his scarf. At first he thought that he had caught it on something. By the time he saw the shadowy figure it was too late. Whoever they were they had a firm grip on his scarf. He felt the wool stretch tight across his windpipe. He fought, but his computer-mushroom lifestyle hadn't prepared him for a death struggle. It was over quickly. The dark figure stood over the body and let out a harsh laugh. Then it bent and took the scarf. "There can be only one!" said the figure.

To be continued.

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