Drabble again

A bit of spring cleaning has turned up some more drabbles that I wrote. I mentioned the ones I had published in this post, whereas these are three examples that I wrote in 1991 but did not submit.

It’s interesting to see what was on my mind in 1991 – a rather grumbly observation about intellectual property licensing; pondering what would happen if and when the Doctor reached a thirteenth regeneration; and killing off K-9 several years before I wrote my Decalog 3 story “Moving On” (1996) and audio play Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre (2002), each of which put the tin dog out of action. (Read more about the latter here.)

My other two drabbles were published in Drabble Who in 1993 to celebrate Doctor Who‘s 30th anniversary and to raise money for the Royal National Institute for Blind People (RNIB) Talking Books Fund.

If you would like to contribute to the RNIB, their online donation page is here.

SENSOR BALLS

Don’t expect any charitable contributions from us – we’re the guys in the black (and gold), and the only thing we’ll give you is trouble.

Asking us for favours, you’ll come to realise, is as productive as trying to squeeze the contents out of a sealed tin can.

Look us in the eye, and we’ll stare you down in unblinking, uncaring incomprehension.

Exterminate any hope you may entertain of a deal – and if you dare to take the plunge without prior permission, we’ll give you some stick.

Kindly don’t argue when we roll up again: we are Terry Nation’s muscle.

TRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA

When you’re practically immortal, the only end of age always seems an impossibly long journey distant. To you, a thousand years old can barely be conceived. To a mayfly, you are the god.

Today, I face my middle age with equanimity.

The flaw, perhaps, is that living fast means dying young.

Borusa escaped, after a fashion, by challenging Rassilon, his continued existence evidenced by the furious flashing of his eyes.

The Master took one life for thirteen more.

On the whole, though, it’s unlucky for most.

What must a Time Lord do when time finally runs out? Cheat, of course.

BUILT-IN OBSOLESCENCE

Five months later, some of the novelty had worn off. A journalist knows the currency of a recent story, and the transience of human interest.

She should have guessed when the gears first started to crunch and the print-out was exhausted. Now, crouched by the side of the machine, so was she.

Brendan honked. “Again?”

She withered him with a glance. “The problem with self-diagnostics is what to do when they go wrong.”

“Sounds recursive.” Brendan munched, disinterested. “First year psychology. Logic.”

Crumbs bounced.

She slapped the side of the computer, piqued.

“So typical of the Doctor to forget the instruction book.”

Doctor Who at 60

Today is the 60th anniversary of Doctor Who, first broadcast on Saturday 23rd November 1963.

I’ve always been a fan. How lucky I am since 1996 to have written professionally published Doctor Who novels, short stories and audio plays. And more recently, to produce and script edit Doctor Who Short Trips audios for Big Finish Productions

Half Doctor Who‘s lifetime ago, I contributed to a collection called Drabble Who. David J Howe and David B Wake commissioned 100 short stories each of exactly 100 words (a drabble), to celebrate the programme’s 30th anniversary and to raise money for the Royal National Institute for Blind People (RNIB) Talking Books Fund.

It was published at a time when Doctor Who was off the air, kept alive by fans and fanzines and conventions, reruns and video releases, and a series of original fiction published by Virgin Books to which I would later contribute.

It seemed appropriate that Drabble Who was written by a large representative group of those people: fans, researchers, TV actors and writers and production team, novel writers and editors.

To my delight, two of my drabbles were included. Better still, each shared a page with a contribution written by an actor from the TV series: Colin Baker (the Sixth Doctor) and Louise Jameson (Leela). What a delight it has been to work with them subsequently on Big Finish audios that I produced and script edited.

The print run for Drabble Who was limited to 1,000 copies, and thirty years later the book is long out of print. So as my celebration for this year, here are my two contributions to that publication.

If you would like to contribute to the RNIB, their online donation page is here.

INITIAL PARAGRAPHS FROM A DRAFT LETTER TO MY OLDEST COMPANION

PETER ANGHELIDES
(Writer/Researcher)

Theft and disguise started my career, I suppose, though appearing first on that monochrome world Earth established my distinctive style.

Afterwards, my look changed several times – shifting shades of light and dark, subtle variations of line and effect, though I could on occasion transform completely, be unrecognisable or obvious, camouflaged or transparent even to you.

Recognition’s rarely a problem now in our spins around the universe.

Doubtless my looks belie my age, but then I transcend more than expectations.

I’ve known many of your friends, Doctor, yet remain your truest companion.

Sharing the changing times is what keeps us close.

MARK FOUR

PETER ANGHELIDES
(Writer/Researcher)

Working from memory isn’t always easy, but working from reports is perhaps more difficult. A few months’ effort though, and you’d have thought I’d had blueprints.

One last minor adjustment, and the lights blinked on. The tail aerial wagged a wary greeting. The radar sensors pricked into life.

I flicked briefly over the tongue of ticker tape.

“Old technology. You’re a collector’s item already.” It hummed, a mechanical question in a rising note.

“I hardly suppose I need to introduce myself,” I murmured, running a clean finger along the burnished black casing.

“Affirmative, Master,” whirred K-9. “I will obey you.”