20.

The weeks peeled away;
Now I ran through the park,
Streetlamps lit up
As I outran the dark.

I had loitered too long
But she’d begged me to stay
And with my hand in hers
I’d lost sight of the day.

I quickened my pace
As I entered my street,
My mind on the creatures
Trapped under my feet.

I reached my front door
With just minutes to go
Until sunset, and spotted
Some tracks in the snow.

I followed them quietly,
Close to the ground
In fear that some burglar
Was snooping around.

My voice quavered slightly:
“Is somebody there?”
And out stepped a figure
With close-shaven hair.

With the set of his jaw
And his worn leather coat
He looked like a navvie
Stepped straight from a boat.

I froze, torn between running
Or trying to fight –
But then spotted the TARDIS
Outlined by the night.

“Inside,” snapped the Doctor,
“Don’t make me ask twice.
The Sh’karri are not
In the mood to be nice.

The comet comes past
Every year, don’t forget,
And the closer it is
The more solid they get.”

He’d scraped all the snow
From the manhole, and pried
It loose with a crowbar,
Then tossed it aside.

“You’re not going down there
So late in the day!”
I grabbed for his arm,
But he knocked me away.

“I’ve got to go down there
And make them see reason.
I owe them that much.
Besides, I’ve got these on.”

He tapped at his wrists,
Decked in blue bands of light,
Then grinned, and dropped
Into the hole, out of sight.