Twodle

Just the other day I hooked my 10 year old Newton up to my mac and copied all the old files that were on it off. I’ve not used this thing for almost 8 or so years, and I’ve been sifting through some of the old stories I wrote on it. Most of them are just fragments, story-ets if you like. This is one was written on 29th April 1995. A man stood on the edge of an invisible abyss. The time wind roared silently up the chasm and rushed past him. Bellowing his jacket and ruffling his hair without disturbing his hat. He turned a t’pence coin in his left hand, pondering the importance that it bared. Examining the coin by touch, becoming familiar with its every detail. Identifying the monarch by touch as Queen Elizabeth the third. A strange paradox that couldn’t exist. Origins that the coin held secret. Destinies that only he and the coin knew. He tossed the coin over the edge, for tossing was the proper thing to do with coins from Earth. He watched it slowly, as it instantly disappeared into the chasm. With a precision equal only to chaos, he waited. He gave it a head start. He liked it here, in the nothingness that underlines everything. This was the only place he could come and no body else could watch him. He turned and walked over to the tall blue box. Slowly he unlocked the door and went inside. The Police Box hurled itself over the edge of the abyss and into the vortex, in pursuit of the coin. The TARDIS was unlikely to catch it, but that was not its purpose. The coin hurtled faster and faster through the nothingness until it reached a maximum velocity. The vortex consumed the coin, the energy would be redistributed. The Doctor began to wonder just what future the coin had seen as they stood on the edge of the vortex, if it had seen the same destinies he had, if it had known what was going to happen next, and never gave the coin another thought.