she may not be you, but she looks just like you.

i think this was nice

i lovelovelove this. maybe it's just me. my favorite part are her antlers/branches and her reflection. maybe it's just me.

My name is Alexia Junker. When I was seven I had an imaginary friend. Today was my fifteenth birthday. My imaginary friend came back.

First of all, let me start by telling you exactly how pissed off this made me, because for years, years I tell you, I’d been going to counselors who told me the he was a creation of my own mind that was looking for stability. My imaginary friend, the Raggedy Doctor, he was a good man. I knew that he’d be there for me. As I child, I moved so many places that there was no telling what I’d be faced with. I’ve learned new languages and accents, cultures and mannerisms just to have to give them up in a matter of months. But the Raggedy Doctor, when I met him I was sure he’d stick with me.

He appeared in my front yard when I was seven years old and asked me if I would please give him a can of custard of some fish sticks, which wasn’t the easiest thing to find, but we managed to rummage around until we found some. “This can’t be happening to me again,” he mumbled. “What is this, do you have a crack in your wall too?”

“No crack. Nothing wrong with the wall.”

“Then what is it? I never visit places just because. Something special has to be there.”

“Aren’t I special enough?”

He fixed me with a stare I never forgot, a stare that made him seem so much older than he appeared. “Yes. Yes you are. Has anyone been telling you differently?”

“No. No I guess not.”

“That’s not something you guess at.”

“May I suppose instead?”

“You’re a snippy little thing.”

“My mother says I’m a spitfire.”

“Then what’s your name spitfire?”

“Alexia Junker.”

His face suddenly broke into a grin. “Well no wonder then. I know a girl named Alexia Junker. She’s a spitfire too. That’s a spitfire’s name.”

“I’m the only Alexia I know.”

“You’re the only Alexia I know as well.”

“But you just sai-”

“Never mind that. Tell me, do you like to ride horses? You ought to take an interest in it.”

It seemed like we talked for hours that night, just him and his fish sticks and me carefully staring at his face and replying when needed. It seemed as if he knew me, as if I was the most important thing in the world. I thought it would never end.

“I have to leave now, Alexia Junker.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Soon, I believe. Very soon.”

And then he went off into the blue box.

In the morning I told my parents, and they told me it was a lovely dream, but I held on hope that the Raggedy Doctor would return, just as he promised.

But days turned into months and months turned into years and today, today on my fifteenth birthday, soon arrived.

It had been a rather uneventful day. A few presents, a slice of cake, but nothing rather major had happened. It appeared the year would pass the same as the rest. It wasn’t until my mother asked me to get the mail that things got interesting.

I went into the front yard and down the driveway to reach the mailbox when a great mechanical sound started to get louder and louder. I turned around and looked and there, as if it had never left, was the blue box. And out walked, of all people, the Raggedy Doctor.

He looked at me carefully as I stared and cleared his throat. “What? Something on my face?”

“You’re back.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re back! You said soon!”

“I said nothing of the sort! Who are you?”

“Yes you did!” I proclaimed, approaching him. “You said soon and it’s been eight years and that’s not soon!” I came closer, placing my hands on his shoulders and pushing him against the door. “I learned how to ride a horse, just for you, and just like that-” I snapped my fingers, and suddenly the door of the blue box opened, and the Doctor fell back and I tumbled in behind him.

When I looked up, I was surrounded by a large room. A room much larger than the box it was it.

“It’s bigger on the inside, I mumbled.

He nodded. “I get that a lot.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Yet here it is.”

“After eight years, it best well be!”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m Alexia Junker! You said I was a spitfire!”

“Well that’s for sure!” He sighed and looked up. “We may have met in your past and my future.”

“What, you’re saying you’re a time traveler?” I scoffed.

He nodded. “Time and space, ya.”

I stared at him carefully. “You’re serious.”

He nodded again, carefully looking at me. “You opened my TARDIS.”

“Your what?”

“My TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. T-A-R-D-”

“Yes, I understand, It’s an acronym, don’t patronize me.”

“Why you’re a spitfir-”

“Yes you’ve told me that already! What’s so important about me being able to open your TARDIS?”

“Right. Only I can do that. Snap my fingers like that and open the door. Not even River can.”

“Who?”

“Never mind that.”

“Not that again.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. It hasn’t happened for me yet.”

“But it’s still not possible for you to move in time like this!”

“Time isn’t what you think it is.”

“Then what is it?”

“Complicated.”

“What have I told you about patronizing me?”

“Time isn’t a straight line of events... It’s more like a ball of stuff that rolls around and moves. I’ll explain it later.”

“No, do it now. Last time you saved things for later I waited eight years.”

He sighed. “Time can be rewritten. It can also loop. I have just met you, and in my future, I’ll remember you, and because it is your past, you will not. Unless something changes, this will continue forever, this loop between you and I.”

“And the fingers. The snapping.”

“Right. It must mean Sexy likes you.”

“Who?”

“My TARDIS. She’s also sexy.”

“Is she sexy, or is she known as Sexy?”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not, and that’s an oxymoronic statement.”

“Why aren’t you a-”

“We’ve been over this before. I’ve got it. Spitfire.”

“Sorry. You make me go in circles. I’m used to going in circles.”

“Well I’m not so you better get used to straight lines.”

“Why should I have to get used to that?”

“Well I wouldn’t want to disappoint Sexy. It’s my birthday and I say you have to make up that broken promise to me.”

“Alright. How?”

“If we leave, and you’re a time traveler, can you bring me back so I haven’t been gone?”

“Of course.”

“Then take me somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet. Give me options.”

“The whole entirety of time and space.”

“That’s redundant. Yes, I know, spitfire.”

“Well then Alexia Junker, all of time and space.”

“Those aren’t proper options.”

“You’re picky”

“You’re condescending.”

“Any event in the history of your world. The past is interesting to most humans.”

“What do you mean, humans. Aren’t you human?”

“No.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re a humanoid alien time and space traveler whose spaceship slash time machine is a blue police box that you call Sexy that’s bigger on the inside.”

“Right.”

“You made more sense when you were my imaginary friend.”

“You wanted to come.”

“That’s right. So you’re not human, right?”

“Who’s redundant now?”

“Don’t be a child. Let’s go to your planet.”

“It’s destroyed.”

“Then let’s go to your planet before it was destroyed.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not.”

“I don’t want to.”

“That’s selfish, it’s my birthday.”

“My planet is one of the subjects I don’t need to be logical on, alright. I’m placing a barrier of a no logic zone around my planet and past.”

“Does it keep the logic in, or ou-”

“Stop it. You know the answer.”

I took a pause, then sighed. “Where is Sexy from then?”

“My planet.”

“Hm.... Take me to the year where they cure cancer.”

“Won’t. Humans tend to want to steal things that’ll make the world better. That’d be cheating. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“But time can be rewritten.”

“But not always for the better. You’re-”

“Spitfire, yes!”

I was going to say clever.”

I peered at him. “Well thank you.”

He nodded. “So I need a place, Alexia Junker.”


I thought for a moment, but then it was suddenly obvious. “Russia, 1890. Moscow.”

“You’re Russian?”

“No, there’s someone I want to see.”

“A relative?”

“An idol.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting. Hold on, the transports a little rocky.” And suddenly he was running around, flipping switches and pushing buttons, and a low grinding sound started. Suddenly there was a jerk and the door was closed as we sped along before coming to a sudden halt.

I sat there, looking at him. “What now?”

“Well you can’t go out there in jeans and a t-shirt now can you.”

“Well where am I supposed to get clothes?”

“Wardrobe’s down the hall, 57 doors to the left.”

It seemed he had clothes form every era on Earth, and some I could assume were not from Earth at all, but I had a general idea of what I was going for, though I wasn’t sure if it’d be right. “Where’s Michaela to be critical of my style when you need her?” I muttered. All the same, by the end of my trip through the wardrobe I was properly dressed.

I came out of the wardrobe with a suit in my hands. “I brought you something too.”

The Doctor shook his head. “You look smashing, but I never change.”

“But you’re wearing a bowti-”

“Hey! Bowties are cool.”

I shook my head. “Fine. Let’s go then. We have to find him.”

“Who?”

“Tchaikovsky. Pytor Tchaikovsky.”

“Not ringing any bells.”

“The Pytor Tchaikovsky! Composer of the Nutcracker! And Swan Lake! And Overture of 1812?” He shook his head. “Are you stupid or something?”

“I was busy in the 1800’s.”

“I wasn’t born, but I know him!”