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Sally Sparrow

“Excuse me?”

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Sally Sparrow
13 October 2008 @ 06:20 am
At least someone found the entire ordeal amusing. Although I'm not entirely clear about that DVD boxset. Hardly surprising I suppose, considering the fact that I apparenly lack a proper amount of DVDs, according to certain people.

Sally Sparrow
“Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there”
Eleanor Rigby: The Beatles

It was odd. After all this time spent looking for the Doctor, looking for something more than a bookshop and the same boring day to day routine. She somehow found him. On a street corner. When she had finally given up. He told her she could come. She couldn’t even pretend to hesitate.

She was beginning to think she knew why he asked her to come so quickly. He was alone. He was lonely. He wanted someone else to fill the silence. She wasn’t sure if she was completely prepared for that task. He spoke sometimes, when he didn’t think she was there. And he would turn on his heels, waiting for a response that never came. She would give one if she knew what he was talking about, but she always seemed to appear too late. When the thought had gotten away and there was no way to know what he was talking about or what he wanted to hear.

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Muse: Sally Sparrow
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 715
Role play (y/n): doesn't matter

Sally Sparrow
19 September 2008 @ 08:17 pm
The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity. -Dorothy Parker

Blink and you miss it.  Him.  Blink and you miss him.  Bad choice of words.  Blink.  But it’s true.  

Watching the President of America, announcing a new era.  Aliens and outer space and it would have all seemed so immensely huge months ago. 

Now it’s all too real. 

The camera pans out, showing the entire room.  The Prime Minister and his wife and advisors and aids and security personnel.  She wonders where he is.  She’s been seeing him all over the news.  They are calling him a terrorist.

Where are you?  You have to be there, she thinks.

Like magic she suddenly sees him, sweeping across the back of the room.  As if the desire to see him has made him suddenly visible on the screen. 

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Sally Sparrow


Your thirteenth birthday.

Dad’s supposed to be here. Driving down from Lancashire. From his new family. Just like he was supposed to do last year and the year before.

You sit, and refuse to look out the window. You read a book and pretend you don’t care.

Mum asks if you’re okay.

“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She doesn’t say anything, and walks away. You keep reading.

You refuse to look at the clock. You refuse to let your expression change. You can’t be disappointed without expectations. But when you go to bed that night, and you stare at the shadows, and watch the clock tick past the day you let yourself admit in those twilight moments between sleep that you will always expect and that you will always be disappointed.

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