Doctor Who: The Bright Asylum

Time Lord of the Pies

Clara’s eyes flick again to the pie, for the hundredth time.

“Are you in there, pie person?” she manages, having finally bitten off some of the wax over her mouth.

A noise from the kitchen interrupts her, though, and she freezes. Or rather her tongue freezes, as she waits for what must be an intruder to come in and…




Clara waits, shivering in her coat of cold cold wax.



Two young feet in a moon-themed light blue jimjam follow two knees and two hands and a familiar face into her living room. Yes, her living room. It’s hers. She’s claimed it.

‘This is my living room!” she cries out, wiggling the wax figure for emphasis, “What are you doing in here in your jimjams? Did you get lonely again?”

“No,” the boy answers, sniffing a drop of snot back up into his nose. “I just smelled the pie. Oo and what’s that then?”

He runs to the Wand and takes it, swinging it around like a sword.

Swish! Swish!


The Heart Wand suddenly beams a jet of little hearts at Clara, and her wax starts to melt.

The boy jumps back, with another mistimed ‘Ahhh’, grabs the pie with a grin and runs into the kitchen.

Clara stumbles over the chair, but manages to crawl out of the last of the wax and scramble awkwardly toward the kitchen, just in time to hear the boy say, “Not your living room! Bye!”

Pie-foot has disappeared, when she gets there. But there are tracks, telling tracks in sticky thick red.

Hence the name, Pie-foot.

“Pie-foot! Wait, you! Doctor!”

But he is nowhere to be seen. Not in the cupboards, she checks with dismay, rattling them a bit. Not under the table- she knows because she hit her head there a minute ago. But oh what’s that, over in the corner?

A big… black… pot.

The footprints lead up to it.

Clara crawls her way to the big cookpot and looks inside. A single sticky handprint, in glorious cherry flavor.

As she gets back up again, she notices the small kitchen window, just a little square on the Eastern side of the house, is pushed inward, toward her.

Must have been how you got in here, my little mouse!” she calls, slumping on the only chair for a breather, “I’ll leave it for the next one!”

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