The Little Monster That Ate The Village

There once was a little monster that lived in a village in the mountains and didn’t have a heart. He also didn’t have a name. He never had one and he didn’t know how he should be called. People used to call him however they liked, Book, Radio, Shoe, Dog… But the little monster never felt like anything of those names, so he started eating the people calling him names he didn’t like.

“Hello, Book”, said the baker.
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the baker was eaten.
And the monster grew.

“Hello, Radio”, said the fisherman.
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the fisherman was eaten.
And the monster grew more.

“Hello, Shoe”, said the sheep-herder.
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the sheep-herder was eaten.
And the monster grew more and more.

“Hello, Dog”, said the vicar.
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” vicar was eaten.
And the monster grew even more and more and even more.

After every “Hello” there was always a “GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” and soon the monster grew so big that he could see the whole village from above. And then he realized a terrible thing. There was no one else left in the village but the monster himself. All the houses were empty and there was no one to call the monster names he didn’t like. But he was all alone and he still didn’t have a name. He also still had no heart and that made him sad and he cried a lot.

When he couldn’t cry any more he started a journey to the next village. The people there didn’t know him at all.

“Hello, miller”, said the monster.
“Hello… Well you look like a ladder. I shall call you Ladder”
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the miller was eaten.
And the monster grew.

“Hello, lawyer”, said the monster.
“Hello… Well you look like a radiator. I shall call you Radiator”
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the lawyer was eaten.
And the monster grew more.

“Hello, fiddler”, said the monster.
“Hello… Well you look like a lamp. I shall call you Lamp”
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the fiddler was eaten.
And the monster grew even more and more.

“Hello, mayor”, said the monster.
“Hello… Well you look like a chair. I shall call you Chair”
“GOBBLE GOBBLE GRAR!” the mayor was eaten.
And the monster grew even more and more and even more.

The monster has eaten everyone in the new village as well. He was all alone, he still didn’t have a name, still had no heart and that made him sad and he cried again.
This happened to every village he went, until he was too tired and too big, so big that reached the sky. The sky was different, it was cool and clear. The monster liked it but he was still too sad.

“Hello”, said the Moon.
“Hello, Moon”, said the little monster that wasn’t little anymore.
“What is your name?”, said the Moon.
“I don’t have one”, said the monster and made some rain because he teared up.
“I shall call you Friend, then”, said the Moon. “Would you like that?”
The monster thought about it a bit and nodded.
“Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy you have a name now?”, said the Moon. It was a very curious moon.
“I can’t be happy because I don’t have a heart”, said the monster and made more rain.
“I have two hearts, each for every side of me, but I can work with one as well”, said the Moon and gave the monster one heart.

The monster that was now called Friend smiled and the rain stopped.


- Inspired by a story of Naoki Urasawa and dedicated to my Doctah

Saturday Noon Gratuitous Out-of-Context Rubbish Doctor/Master Slash

[...] He stands up and walks towards the other side of the bed, stands in front of him; he looks so tall and The Doctor so small, curled up like that. Even though he’s wearing only his trousers he looks so fierce. He reaches behind The Doctor’s head and tugs at his hair, hard. He tugs more, backwards, making him look at him, his gaze piercing. His voice comes out restrained but strict, tinted unmistakably by anger and a dash of disgust towards The Doctor's reaction.

"Listen here. I just gave you clothes and your own room. I took the pain of PERSONALLY giving you nourishment, when all you’ve been was ungrateful, and I changed you back in your proper age for this regeneration because I genuinely thought you’ve learned your lesson. You DON’T want to prove me wrong, Doctor." 

The Master looks at him and tugs harder, while gritting his teeth. He rather feels offended by The Doctor's cowardice and he isn't not willing to stand up with this.

"You are the only other Time Lord in existence. Stop sobbing and act like one. I am giving you the world in a silver platter. All you need to do is trust me. I’ve already shown you I trust you more, haven’t I…?" 

He leans closer. 

 "HAVEN’T. I?" [...]

All you do is talk and talk...

"It’s either this or I’ll destroy everything you love. Every single one of them, Doctor. I will parade them in front of you and I will kill them, slowly, in different, imaginative ways. Them AND their families, if they managed to make any families after you left them… And then I’ll stack them here, all the bodies. With name-tags, of course.
Or you’d rather see severed heads..?"

He glanced towards him and scratched his scruff.

"Mmm.. "

He paused for a brief moment.

"Maybe heads, better for identifying and remembering every name… "

"Beg, Doctor. You do it so gracefully… Beg and hope and pray for my benevolence. "

"Beg."

Gig

John was a bit bored to sing this night, he knew about the gig since several months ago, it wasn’t like they got to play that often anyway, but he felt moody and bored and his fingers didn’t quite want to move, as the rest of his body and, possibly, his soul. He’d be happier at home with a beer, or several, listening to Joy Division and The Cure, but that’d prolly make his mood worse. Plus, he wasn’t the type that’d ditch his band to go and get wasted; he wasn’t even sufficiently famous for that. Yet, his fingers moved mechanically and the microphone felt superfluous in his hand. He listened to his own voice as from afar and kinda hoped they’d get to finish earlier but, looking at the audience in the club, that started dancing in the meantime, there wasn’t even a chance. So he did his best to sound at least amused and get it over with. He’d need to drink a lot after and forget everything.

He felt almost grateful that they got away with no encore, they usually did some extra songs more, but the bar had gone out of stout, so they let them stop since they couldn’t sell more. John smiled bitterly, they were like sluts, venue managers used them to sell stuff and threw ‘em away when they were not needed any more. He slowly shrugged. At least he got to do something he liked, if it wasn’t for this bloody mood…

He stood leaning at the wall, then paced around a bit staring at his shoes, waiting for the rest of the band to finish with all the socializing and packing, he only had his mike and monitor, hardly cumbersome things to pack, anyway…

Sighed and lit a ciggie, gawd he needed that, threw his head backwards, leaning at a wall, listening to the noise in the background.

John was too preoccupied thinking about his cigarette and swallowing its’ smoke, it going down into his lungs and out again, mesmerized by the sound of music in his internal PA system, tapping his hand on his thigh, 'twas The Beatles now ..the Walrus, goo goo goo joob.. when his ears informed him he was not alone.

"Lend me a fag?"

Bleach

He growled between his teeth, the bleach stung and felt like it was eating through his flesh, but, in the same time he liked it in a weird way. It felt like it was provoking him to be angry and he liked angry, he needed angry, he felt so confused and angry and… powerful and was practically waiting for something or someone to taunt him, craving for release.

He dipped his hands into the water in the sink, still stung. He washed his face and waited, he haven’t kept the box so he’d have to estimate the amount of time it’d take for his hair to be completely different than before, he wouldn’t risk everything looking still like Harold Saxon, even if he was wearing old and tattered clothes now – a blessing he acquired from a VERY short lived friendship – he still looked like him so he needed something drastic.

He stretched his back and waited more, looking angrily at the mirror.

He shoved his head under the faucet and started rinsing maniacally, get rid of that stuff, the sting, off with it, off, he wasn’t going to be waiting any more, that ought to be enough, this thing was powerful the damage to his hair color would be considerable by now. He felt so hot and full of energy his hands were almost dry now so did his hair, it felt weird but good, starving though, really starving, he could eat a whole…

Man. In his bathroom. In his public bathroom, anyway, it was HIS regardless. He swiftly turned, there was a muffled sound of joints cracking, vertebrae.

"Why you…!"

He stopped and abruptly changed his tone, no need to be obvious, you are not desperate, Master… You were always more polite with your victims, now, don’t be an animal…

A wolf and a maiden in a lake

He looked at her sadly, a spark of rage about unresolved issues with the world gleaming in his stare. 
"The world, my lady, doesn't take kindly to dreamers. Nor treats people as it should. No matter how..."

He paused and looked at her affectionately, trying to be less offensive, as he genuinely knew she was not at fault for the ways of the world.

"..beautiful you start... you are not to be treated in equally beautiful ways. I know that. I feel that." 

He stroked the scars on his arm.

"Every day, I really do. And I have to constantly remind myself of my place. Your ways are kind, madame, you were raised as a person, you have compassion. I was raised as an animal and as an animal I struggle... Yet, you'd rather touch an animal and help him bathe..? As far as animal dreams go, this is sure the rarest and most wonderful in its' unpredictability..."

This is the longest he'd spoken in months. He nodded faintly and offered his hands to her.