Doctor Who: Big Finish - Short Trips [025] - Transmissions by Richard Salter

Author:Richard Salter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
Publisher: Big Finish
Published: 2008-07-02T21:16:03+00:00

Driftwood

Dale Smith

An adventure of the Seventh Doctor,

with Mel

If you were there and you closed your eyes, you’d still be able to picture the scene. There was the static hiss of the waves pulling the shale into the sea and back again, sweeping in, sweeping out. There was the predatory caw of seagulls circling overhead: too far to be a nuisance; close enough to swoop should food be left unattended.

You might even imagine you could hear the sun as it fell lazily into the sea, and the crabgrass rustling in the breeze; so peaceful was the beach that morning.

If you kept your eyes closed, you would feel a delicate breeze tugging at your clothes as if trying to tell you there was no need for them. And you’d feel the warmth, too, seeping through cloth, skin, bone until all was gently shining in the sun. Then you’d realise you were missing the sunset, and you’d open your eyes and smile.

And, if you were there, you’d throw your arms wide and fly into the sky to join the gulls as they banked and cawed.

There, in the sky, you’d see golden sand spreading out unbroken in either direction, forming a gentle barrier between the crystal sea and the dusty land. The sea was cool and smooth, barely a wave breaking the surface. Some brave sand pioneers had – somehow – climbed the dunes to spread themselves like dew on the crabgrass.

The grass didn’t mind – it wasn’t farmland and it wasn’t cattle-fodder: why should it worry, on such a beautiful evening?

And, if you were there, you’d swoop – once, twice, again – and you’d dive at the soft sand, spinning up and away again before your nose scraped it. And then you’d fly away. You’d see the beach race with you, blurring to nothing but still the overall sense of sand and sea and grass. You’d spin, your mouth open to taste the sunlight, and who wouldn’t forgive you if you let out a whoop of pure joy at the feeling?

And you’d hear the tap-tap-tap before you saw the footprints, trailing from the dunes into the heart of the beach. How could you not follow them? The sand would speed away beneath you. The only world that existed would be those small footprints breaking the sand, and leading you away from your perfect evening.

Leading you away with a tap-tap-tap.

Still you’d race. On and on. Further and further.

tap-tap-tap

Until…

If you were there, you’d see a little fair-haired girl crouching down on the sand, her red swimming costume dappled with sand. In her hand would be a small plastic spade, and upturned on the sand in front of her a red plastic bucket. As she crouched on the ground, by the moat she had dug in the crumbling sand, her hand would drop down again. She would smile in innocent pleasure as the red spade hit the red bucket, once, twice, again.

tap-tap-tap

And once she had loosened the sand, she would pull away the upturned bucket to reveal a perfect sandcastle, drying in the evening sun.

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