Doctor Who: The Bright Asylum


“… and the next minute we’re machete-ing through this thick jungle-y stuff, across a ridiculous rope bridge, in our own head! Preposterous! Ludicrous, even! Course, if Peri were here, I’d trick her into doing it for me... hrm!”

“Well, I for one rather wish that Sarah Jane were here. I miss her muttering at me… Say, Seven… what shall we do now?”

“Really? Grace would have liked Peri… I think. This view is beautiful, though.”


“I think we should cross the bridge! What do you think, Ten?”

“I think someone should try building a tea caddy out of celery sticks and a cricket bat, for all the good it would do. I’m out of ginger beer again.” –He snaps his fingers, and a new bottle appears in his hand- “One, would you like another?”

“Celery sticks! I swear, every time I see it… hahahahaha! Still, I would have liked for Romana to be here…”

“I’m just glad the Rani isn’t. But I do wonder if Death has a marker in here somehow…”

…a clink, as of teacups knocking softly together.

“That does seem sound at this point, Ten. Eight seems reasonably in possession of a noticeable degree of sanity. Strange, though… he appears to be distracted.”

“Eight? Eight! No, you’ll fall! Hold on! Oh dear, someone help me wake him! Eight!”

…the sound of a small table being scuffed over thick planks or reeds quickly, as though someone has risen with a sudden fright.

… finally, the tapping of a cane; the screech of a dog whistle.

…a shuffle of resultant quiet, and then, nine anxious pairs of feet resume the bridge.

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