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"Your song is ending sir. It is returning. It is returning through the dark. And then, Doctor… oh, but then…he will knock four times."


our song is ending, sir. Sir? Hey, buddy, your song’s ending.'

He blinked, forcing himself to focus on his freckle-faced, pig-tailed, gum-chewing dance partner. She blew a particularly large bubble, pink and aromatic, and very sticky when it burst on the end of his nose.

'Oh, golly, Doc, I’m sorry,' the girl told him, dabbing it off his skin with the rest of the gooey glob pulled from her mouth. She smiled sweetly and he forgave her instantly. 'Didja want another song?'

'What?' he asked, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

'Another song?'

'Is it over already?'

'They done played it four times,' she told him, popping her chewing gum back into her mouth before straightening her rumpled frock. He realised he had been holding her rather closely. It was that sort of song.

Love me tender,
Love me dear,
Tell me you are mine.
I'll be yours through all the years,
Till the end of...

'No, no,' he said, looking down at his watch then around the mostly empty dance hall. A lone figure clad in a leather jacket stood in the shadows. The night watchman, he supposed. 'Time I should go, I expect.'

'Yeah. It’s almost 11 o’clock,' the girl told him. 'You know where to find me, though. See you next Friday night?'

'Friday?'

'You been comin’ ‘round every Friday since you got here.'

'Have I?' he asked, not entirely remembering when it was he’d first arrived in the area. He was rather sure he had been trying to forget there had ever been a time he hadn’t been here. 'Friday then,' he agreed, turning to leave. 'Good night, Rose.'

'Daisy,' she called after him
.
'Daisy,' he sang to himself.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do,
I’m half crazy…

'Good night Daisy Rose.'
 
The rickety, old blue Chevy truck coughed and jolted and though he talked sweetly to the old girl she finally puttered to a halt about four miles out of town. He banged his head against the steering wheel. Rubbish recharged battery. This era in Earth’s history did have its drawbacks. He sat back with a sigh, then scooted across the seat to lift the door latch on the passenger side. The driver‘s side had been jammed for weeks but this one… no longer worked either. It clicked and clunked and wouldn’t budge. In the end he slid open the back window and squeezed through the narrow space, dropping into the hay-filled bed of the truck with a thud. He found a torch amid empty sacks of chicken feed and binder twine, then swung his long legs over the duct-taped tailgate. From there it was a short drop to the gravel road. The stars watched him. He whistled while he worked. Then sang:


I know a ditty nutty as a fruitcake
Goofy as a goon and silly as a loon
Some call it pretty, others call it crazy
But they all sing this tune:

Mairzy doats and dozy doats
and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
Yes! Mairzy doats and dozy doats
and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
 

'You know, if you stand in the dark singing nonsense, people may begin to wonder what you’re about.' He started, banging his head soundly on the rim of the bonnet.

'Oh, I say!' said the little man standing beside him, 'I am sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, young man. Though I must say, that was a catchy little ditty you were singing there. Care to hum a bit more so I can play along?'

He watched as the mop-headed hobo pulled a recorder from his pocket and held it to his lips.

'Go on. I’m ready.'

But he could no longer remember the words or the tune.

'I’m sorry. I seem to have lost it.'

'Really?' the little man said, looking terribly dejected as he tucked the recorder back into his pocket. 'That is a shame.'

 
artwork by ANDY LAMBERT
used with permission
 
Welcome to inferno-fiction.co.uk.
 
Inferno Fiction is an on-line Doctor Who Fiction Fanzine. First created in the 80's when fanzines in the printed form were the norm, the fanzine has now leapt onto the world wide web and is enjoyed by many across the world!
 
The stories featured are from the original pages of the printed fanzine and now include a collection of new material.
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Inferno Fiction and Inferno Productions are copyright to Colin-John Rodgers 2009-2017.
All written material and artwork is copyright to their respective authors, artists and to Inferno Productions 2017.
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