Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“What about a ghost?”
“What about it?”
The Doctor looked at Clara through the central column of the Tardis, moving some levers, fiddling with some buttons, a hint of mischief in the eye, a little smile playing on his features.
“I don’t know, I was thinking that it would be appropriate, giving that technically is still Christmas, going hunting for a ghost.”
“You didn’t believe Robin Hood was real, and now you’re trying to convince me that you can show me a ghost?”
Clara was smiling from ear to ear, comfortable in the leather chair where she had settled after changing in something more suitable to travel, instead of her nightgown and slippers.
The Doctor was looking at her, thinking that the nightgown had not been so bad a choice after all, but the miniskirt was perhaps even better. For the running of course. More freedom, more legs movements, more… He abruptly returned his eyes to her face.
“Ah… yes. Well there’s actually a ghost in the Castle of Rhum Island: he’s been there for almost a hundred year I believe”
“No way!” she straighten to attention, the smile widening.
He moved from the console to the chair where Clara was seated and crunched in front of her, telling his story and moving madly his hands to emphasize every bit of it.
“They say (they being the few people who live on Rhum Island, a very small Island off the continent of Terim on the planet of Belg (it’s not that far away, we will be there in a few minutes)) they say that the owner of the Castle, he was some sort of Lord you know, wanted another wing to be built on the east side, but he wanted every man working for him to be dressed in the old costume of the Island, to have a more intense experience, you see… if you ask me, he was simply trying to lure some young boy in his bed, the old robes were merely a colourful clothed draped around the hips, but anyway, he was successful in finding workers in need enough to humour him and so he employed some fifty men and began giving orders and guiding the constructions. But!”
Clara was mesmerized by his speech and his infectious enthusiasm, and followed him when he abruptly sprang up to return to the console to adjust some parts and looking in the monitor for reference.
“But…?”
He leaned above her, lowering his voice
“But one night, one of the boys from the village was working late, to finish off some drawing he was composing on a far wall, the wall of the master room, and he was dangerously trying to reach for a high corner, not realizing that the scaffolding was loose… He fell, from thirty five feet to the ground. Swapt!”
Clara jumped in surprise while the Doctor mimicked the fall.
“and now he is a ghost?”
“No”
“I don’t understand”
“Well, it turned out that the Lord was the father’s boy, but he didn’t know it, because the mother never told, but the boy knew the truth and purposefully asked for the job, to give his father a masterpiece of art: the boy had a real talent, you can say he was some sort of Leonardo of Belg”
“Are you serious or are you telling me some space soap opera?”
Clara eyed the Doctor suspiciously, crossing her arms in disbelieve.
The Doctor glared at her, mocking a serious offence, and went on with an hand on his hearts:
“Clara! I would never pull your leg in so a serious matter!”
“mmfph. Go on then”
“Well…” he resumed, touching levers and button, looking at her sideways “the mother crying her eyes out, confessed all the story to the Lord”
The Doctor sighed
“and the Lord was so heart sickened that he no longer wanted to live. The boy was his only child, and although he never had the possibility to know him, he was very much affected by his gift. The only thing remaining was the beautiful painting in the master room. So he killed himself, leaping from the same spot in which his son slipped.”
Clara eyes went wide “Oh… So HE is the ghost”
“No”
“Doctor!”
“If you continue to interrupt me…”
“You are impossible! Who’s the ghost?”
“Well, the mother of course”
“The mother? She killed herself too?”
“No, she died of old age, but after spending all of her life trying to finish up the painting of her son. The work was only half made when the young boy met his death, but it was so utterly beautiful that she wanted to complete it, like a tribute for both of her men. It was quite a task and she failed to accomplish it, because for every brush she gave, twice she cancelled or remade. She was never satisfied with her work, she found always something wrong with the light, or the shadows, or the feeling of it, even if it was only her grief really…”
There was a pause and the Tardis landed with a soft thud, like she was listening too to the sad story and didn’t want to intrude.
Clara looked the Doctor with a sad expression:
“Why is she a ghost now?”
“Because her work was never finished, and she can’t rest in peace as long as the painting is not complete in all its beauty”
“And do you believe it? I mean, the story is beautiful, but do you really believe there is an actual ghost in the Castle?”
“I don’t know. But one thing is certain: I aimed for the Tardis to land inside the Castle, and we are instead on a nearby hill. Look at the readings: there’s a forcefield surrounding the main structure that is preventing us from materializing inside it. Perhaps it is the ghost… perhaps it’s not”
He looked at her grinning
“Care to take a look?”
and with that he grabbed her hand, like his old self was so used to do all the time, and run for the door.