For those who are curious as to how Karen would be like as the Doctor
CONTEXT
The Doctor: Karen Gillan
Matthias Lake: Young Matt Smith
Episode: The Eleventh Hour
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Stars decorate the sky, much like fireflies dancing around in the forest of the night. At the edge of Leadworth, an old yet sturdy house rests. An owl hoots in the distance, shattering the fragile silence of the evening. The slight breeze blows against a swing set in the yard, giving rise to small squeaks. Everyone seemed to have turned in after another day, yet there was a light in a room at the corner of the house.
In that room of blue walls and yellow ceiling, a young boy, no bigger than seven, kneels beside his bed with his hands intertwined with each other. His eyes are shut tight and he leans forward such that his hands touch his mouth. Exhaling, he readies himself.
"Dear Santa," he starts, "Thanks for the figurines and pencils and the badger puppet. It's Easter now, so hopefully I didn't wake you, but honestly, it's an emergency."
The boy opens his eyes and turns to the wall behind him. Speaking a little louder, he continues, "There's a crack, giant crack, in my wall." He pauses, because to him, it adds more 'drama' to his prayers. He turns back and closes his eyes once more.
"Aunt Sharon says it's just an ordinary crack," he shifts slightly, uncomfortable for staying still for so long but he perseveres, "but I don't think it is, because at night I hear voices, so please, please, could you send someone to fix it? Or a policeman. Or a-"
CRASH!
He jumps, hands coming apart. He recovers from his shock and shakes his head, disappointed that he got scared so easily. Big boys, according to him, wouldn't, no, shouldn't be frightened by a loud noise.
"Give me a moment," he says to particularly no one.
He gets up and takes two steps towards a stool, pulling it to below the window still. Stepping up, he pushes aside the translucent curtains and takes a quick peak out of the window. The child cups his hands around his face and squints. It was hard to see in the dark.
His face brightens up. There was something out there, and it was glowing.
He reaches for the blue torch, labelled 'Matthias Lake', sitting on his drawer. Jumping off the stool, the boy races out the door, slamming it loudly behind him. All seemed quiet as the room was empty. Suddenly, the door opens once again, and the boy re-enters the room.
"Thank you so much, Santa!" He shouts to the air, and sprints out the door once again.
Matthias leaps down the stairs and flings the back door open. As the cool night air greets him, he freezes for a moment. A million thoughts rush through his head. What if he was just seeing things? Maybe he was in a dream, and the crash wasn't real at all. Perhaps it was another one of his neighbour's cats falling off the tree into their yard, or the wind knocking the metal sheet off the shed, which was used to patch up the hole in its roof.
No, he tells himself, I did everything my best friend told me to do, this has to be happening.
He pinches himself and notes the sharp pain. Not sleeping, good.
Switching on his torch, Matthias takes a small step out of his house and into his garden, barefoot. He carefully makes his way through the metal arch without success as he hears a snap from a twig that he stepped on. He ignores it and steps forward, only for his eyes to feast upon a large blue box that lay sideways on the soil. Yellow light rays travelled out of the box, but other than that, it was still.
