Doctor Who

by Justin Richards

  At last, the day that Melina and Varan were to be married arrived.

  Melina made sure to be at the ceremony in good time. She looked beautiful in her stunning white robes. Her hair had been braided and her appearance was immaculate. The guests were waiting, and everything was perfect – except for one thing.

  There was no sign of Varan.

  The time of the wedding ceremony slipped by, and still Varan did not appear.

  Varan’s best friend tried to reassure Melina; he told her that he had seen Varan the previous night and all had been well. But, as time moved on and the guests became restless, Melina’s anxiety grew. Varan’s friend left to try to find him.

  When Varan’s friend returned, he was alone. His face was grave. He could find no trace of Varan anywhere. It was as if Varan had vanished off the face of the world …

  It became clear that there would be no wedding. Slowly, the guests drifted away. Eventually there was just Melina and a single guest left. She didn’t know the man and assumed he must be a friend of Varan’s. He was tall and slim, with a shock of dark hair and was dressed smartly in a deep blue pinstriped suit. He walked slowly up to Melina, and took her hands in his, looking deep into her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said gently. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ Then he turned and walked quickly away, leaving Melina alone.

  Finally Melina made her way back to the cottage. At this time, she and Varan had been meant to return there together, ready to start their married life full of joy and hope. Instead she was all alone, weighed down with despair and worry.

  She sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. She had managed to hold back the tears until now – but, just as the first of them welled up in her eyes, there was a knock at the door. Melina jumped out of the chair and ran to answer it. She was sure that it must be Varan – or at least someone with news of what had happened to him.

  Instead, waiting on the doorstep, she found the man who had given her the money.

  ‘I have come to collect your debt,’ he said, and pushed past Melina into the cottage. He opened his briefcase and took out a glass jar with an opening that was wide and curved, but Melina scarcely noticed what he was doing. The man set the jar on the table, and gestured for Melina to sit down close to it.

  ‘Lean forward,’ he said gently. He stood behind her and took her shoulders, pushing her forward so that her head was above the jar. ‘Let the tears flow.’

  It was at this moment that Melina knew her dreams were ruined. There would be no happily-ever-after with Varan. She would never see him again. At last, she cried. The tears ran down her cheeks and dripped into the jar below. Her shoulders and her whole body heaved with grief.

  When the jar was full, the man sealed it with a glass lid held in place by a metal clasp. Then he placed another jar on the table beneath Melina to catch the tears, which continued to flow.

  How long Melina cried, how many jars she filled with her tears, she did not know. It was turning to evening by the time she realised that her eyes and her heart were empty. She had no more tears to cry. She leaned back and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

  ‘Thank you,’ the man said. He sealed the last of the jars and packed it into his briefcase. Then he opened the door, and was gone.

  For a moment, Melina sat in silence. Her mind was numb. But slowly she realised that she was not alone. The man from the wedding – the man in the dark blue suit – was standing quietly just inside the door of the cottage, watching her.

  ‘How do you suppose,’ the man said quietly and thoughtfully, ‘that he knew Varan would be missing?’

  Melina shook her head. The question hadn’t occurred to her.

  ‘How did he know to come for your tears?’

  Again, she shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed.

  ‘Don’t you want to find out?’ The man raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled sadly, turned back towards the door and slipped away.

  Whoever he was, the man was right. Melina did want to know more – in fact, she was desperate to discover what had happened to Varan. Without thinking, Melina hurried to the door. She grabbed a cloak and threw it over her wedding robes, then she set off after the man who had taken her tears. She hurried back towards the town as quickly as she could, and before long she saw him walking briskly in the distance. Keeping well back, making sure he did not see her, she followed the man through the outskirts of the town. It was getting dark by the time he reached his destination: a large mansion at the edge of town.

  The mansion was set in its own grounds. From the road, Melina watched the man walk up a curving driveway to the house. He produced a key from his pocket, opened the door and went inside. Melina watched the house for a while, but night soon fell and it became completely dark. Finally, unable to see any more, she turned and started the long, lonely walk back to the cottage.

  When she got home, she found the man from the wedding sitting in an armchair, waiting for her. ‘I made tea,’ he said, gesturing to a cup on the table beside another armchair.

  ‘You keep turning up uninvited,’ Melina said. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

  The man was calm and spoke softly. ‘I’m the Doctor,’ he said. ‘But, more to the point, who was the man who took your tears? Do you actually know anything about him?’

  ‘He gave me money,’ Melina confessed. She slumped down in the chair. Without really knowing why, she told the Doctor everything that had happened, finishing with her following the man to his house.

  ‘So you don’t even know his name?’ the Doctor said quietly.

  Melina shook her head and sipped at her tea. Then a thought occurred to her. She went over to her desk and hunted through the papers inside it until she found the agreement she had signed. There was no address on it, nothing to indicate who the man was – except for his signature, beside Melina’s, on the last page. She realised that she had never bothered to try to read it. Now, she stared closely at the neat handwriting and saw that it was not a name at all. The agreement was signed ‘The Grief Collector’.

  ‘I’ve never heard of the Grief Collector,’ Melina said. ‘Have you?’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of him. He’s famous. Well, infamous. Well, notorious. Well, if you know who he is.’

  ‘And who is he?’

  The Doctor finished his tea and stood up. ‘That’s something else you should find out, I think.’

  ‘Won’t you tell me?’

  ‘Oh that would be too easy. If you want to get your husband back – sorry, your fiancé,’ he corrected himself, ‘if you want to get him back, you’ll need to visit the Grief Collector yourself.’

  ‘But is it possible?’ Melina asked, feeling hopeful for the first time since she had left the wedding.

  ‘Anything’s possible,’ the Doctor said. ‘Anything at all. Especially when it’s driven by love.’ Before Melina could respond, he added. ‘I’ll see you again soon, I expect.’ Then, with a smile and nod, he was gone.

  Now that she was alone again, Melina resolved to learn as much as she could about the Grief Collector. Over the next few weeks she began to ask if others had heard of him, and she came across his name more and more. She met people who had lost husbands, wives, children; people who had agreed to give their tears to the Grief Collector in return for money, or a piece of land, or a lucrative business deal …

  The list went on. Every single person had thought that a few tears – tears they did not believe they would shed – were a small price to pay. Every single person had lost a loved one.

  This cannot, Melina decided, be a coincidence. Somehow, the Grief Collector knew that people would disappear. How exactly, Melina could not guess – but she was determined to find out.

  She gathered as many people who had entered into an agreement with the Grief Collector as she could, and together they went to the mansion at the edge of the town. Melina’s plan had been for them all to confront the Grief Collector together – but the others wouldn’t
dare. They had lost so much already that they were afraid to risk anything or anyone else. Melina however, having come this far, refused to give up. Bravely, she walked up to the mansion alone. The others watched from the road outside.

  But when she reached the door her resolve melted away. She glanced back at the others. Could she back out now, and beg someone else to go inside? As she hesitated, she saw a figure standing on the other side of the road. Leaning against a large blue box, which Melina had not seen before, was the man who called himself the Doctor. For a moment, despite the distance between them, her eyes connected with his. He nodded and smiled. And all Melina’s uncertainty was gone in an instant.

  Melina turned and knocked at the door, but there was no answer. She knocked again, louder, but still no one came. Melina turned back, checking that the Doctor was still watching her. Then she hammered on the door as loud as she could. When that still produced no result, she tried the handle. To her surprise, the door swung open – it was unlocked.

  Glancing back at the people watching her from the street, and the Doctor watching from across the road, Melina took a deep breath then entered the mansion. She found herself in a large entrance hallway – at the end, a wide staircase swept to the upper floor, and ornate doors set with wooden carvings dotted either side.

  Melina stood still for a moment while she decided what to do. She thought about calling out, but no one had come when she had knocked. Instead, she tried the door nearest to her. It opened into a very ordinary-looking drawing room. Disappointed, Melina tried the next door. This one led into a nondescript library, its walls lined with books. Just as Melina was about to close the door again and try the next one, she saw another door on the opposite side of the room.

  Something made her sure that this was where she needed to go. Perhaps it was just a feeling, or perhaps it was to do with the fact that, whereas the other doors she had seen were intricately carved, this one was notably plain and ordinary. It stood out to Melina because it was so uninteresting. She crossed the library and opened it.

  Beyond this door was another library of sorts. In this one, though, the floor-to-ceiling shelves were not filled with books. They were lined with glass jars.

  Melina instantly recognised the distinctive shape of the jars. She knew at once what they contained. Every jar was labelled: a name neatly handwritten on card was attached to the shelf below each one. Melina looked around in horror. There must have been thousands of jars – tens of thousands – all filled with tears. The outpourings of so much grief …

  Melina walked slowly through the large room, staring incredulously at the jars as she passed them. Somewhere here were the tears that she had cried for Varan. She could feel more tears welling up inside her, but Melina was determined not to cry. Not here.

  At the back of the large room was yet another plain door. Could there be more jars, with more tears, beyond? Melina hardly dared to look – but she summoned what courage she could and opened the door … and stepped into a nightmare.

  This room too was filled with glass jars. But these jars were far larger, and they were not filled with tears. These jars contained people.

  Pale, haunted figures stood or sat inside their glass prisons; each jar held just one captive. Some turned to look at Melina. Some hammered on the inside of their jar, or shouted, but the glass was too thick for them to be heard. Some sat, silent and still, staring off into space.

  Numb with disbelief, Melina walked slowly among the jars. When she peered between and through them she could see even more – they stretched into the distance, and everyone single one held a person trapped inside. Men, women, old and young – even children.

  Suddenly Melina realised that she was staring at Varan.

  He smiled sadly at her, placing his hand against the side of his jar. She placed her own hand on the other side of the glass from his – but all she could feel was the cold, unforgiving jar. This was too much for Melina. She screamed.

  Every ounce of Melina’s anguish and outrage was channelled into that one scream. A high-pitched shriek, it reverberated around the room. As she continued to scream, she fell to her knees.

  At that same moment, the jar in front of her – the one that contained Varan – exploded into fragments.

  Then, one by one, all around Melina, each of the jars shattered.

  The people stepped out of their broken prisons, looking about them in astonishment and relief, but Melina scarcely noticed. Her attention was all on Varan. She grabbed him, and pulled him to her. Neither of them saw the other people making their way out of the room. Neither of them heard the words of thanks. They only saw and heard each other. As they stood there, holding each other tightly, they lost all track of time. Eventually, though, they drew apart, and Melina led Varan back through the room, now full of broken glass. The other prisoners had all made their escape.

  The sound of a door opening made them stop and turn. Behind them, from the distant doorway on the other side of the room, a figure stood staring at them.

  The Grief Collector.

  ‘What have you done?’ the man roared. His face was twisted into an angry snarl. ‘I need my prisoners! You have ruined everything – you will both suffer for this!’

  Furiously, he strode towards them, his feet crunching on the shards that littered the floor. Melina grabbed Varan’s hand and they started to run towards the door through which Melina had entered the room. Behind them, they could hear the Grief Collector’s cries of rage, and the glass crunching under his feet as he chased them.

  ‘You cannot escape me,’ the Grief Collector shouted, following them into the room full of tears. He flung the door shut behind him as he flew through it.

  Perhaps Melina could have outrun the man, but Varan was weak and exhausted from his imprisonment. They had almost reached the door that would lead them out of the room of tears when the Grief Collector at last caught up with them. He shoved Varan aside, and grabbed Melina by the shoulder, spinning her to face him. All around the Grief Collector, Melina could see the light glinting on the jars of tears.

  Varan was struggling to his feet, but Melina knew he was too frail to have any chance of fighting off the Grief Collector. So she did the only thing she could think of. She screamed again. This scream, though, wasn’t out of fear or horror. It was deliberate, and full of anger.

  The jars on the shelves behind the Grief Collector exploded. Clear, salty liquid poured down, splashing to the floor. The Grief Collector turned in alarm, and Melina twisted out of his grip. She grabbed Varan’s hand and pulled him after her. As they ran, she screamed again – and kept screaming.

  Jars exploded all around the room. Shards of glass rained down on the Grief Collector. His feet splashed in the flood of tears as he ran after Melina and Varan. Yet more jars shattered. The tears were now gushing down in a torrent.

  The Grief Collector’s feet slipped out from under him and he fell.

  Melina and Varan fled through the door, and Melina slammed it shut behind them. Had they been able to look back into the room, they would have seen the Grief Collector struggling back to his feet. They would have seen the tears crashing down on him and filling the room. They would have seen him desperately trying to climb the shelves to escape the rising tide of tears until, inevitably, it closed over his head. Finally, the Grief Collector was engulfed by the tears he had taken.

  Melina and Varan saw none of this. Instead, they hurried out of the library, along the hall and emerged through the front door into the sunlight. There, they saw the people who had come to the mansion with Melina waiting for them, reunited with the loved ones they had lost. Like Melina and Varan, they were crying – but the tears they were crying were tears of joy, not grief.

  As she held Varan tightly, Melina saw the Doctor over Varan’s shoulder. She saw him smile and nod, and pull open a door in the blue box. She saw him go inside before tears of joy blurred her vision. When she blinked them away, both the Doctor and the box were gone.

  There were
once three brothers named Gruff who lived together on a farm far away from the nearest town. Although they were brothers, they were very different from one another.

  The eldest, Carl Gruff, was incredibly strong. As well as being the oldest of the brothers he was also the tallest and broadest.

  The middle brother was called Meklan Gruff. He was nowhere near as strong as his older brother, but he was extremely brave and was willing to take great risks to bring respect and glory to his name.

  The youngest was Naze Gruff. He was of much slighter build than either of his older brothers. He was not very strong or terribly brave, but he was far and away the cleverest of the brothers Gruff.

  The three brothers worked well together, each appreciating the talents of the others. Their farm was well run, and every few months the brothers would travel to the town to buy provisions. While they were gone, the workers they employed looked after the farm. The journey to the town was long, but the brothers enjoyed having time together away from the farm.

  Part of the journey to the town wound through a narrow valley with steep, rocky walls that made the whole place seem desolate and grey. The valley was a stark contrast to the rolling, open countryside of the rest of the journey.

  One sunny afternoon, the brothers were travelling through this valley on their way back home. They were in high spirits, having found a provisioner who would arrange for everything they had bought to be delivered to their farm in the next few days. Free of the burden of carrying their provisions home themselves, they walked through the grey valley without any undue apprehension or caution, expecting to emerge into the rolling countryside in a few hours.

  But, halfway through the valley, Carl stopped. ‘I don’t remember seeing that before,’ he said, pointing to something a short way up the side of the valley.