by EH Walter
homes. To her left there were low level houses with porches at the front, to her right there was a little grocery store and a side road before the road continued with much larger houses – taller and with columns instead of modest porches. The mailbox that she had picked up the newspaper from was in front of a yellow and brown house, it seemed to nestle between the two sides of the street in size. A screen door opened and a small child stomped out. He sat on the top of a set of four steps and sunk his head between his hands. Clara recognised the look of a child trying desperately not to cry.
“Hey, kid…” she called out, “what town is this?”
He looked up. His brown eyes met her’s. “It’s Auburn, ma’m.”
Clara smiled. She loved how Americans were so polite, calling strangers sir and ma’m. “Is Auburn a nice town?”
The boy shrugged. “I liked it well enough.”
“Liked? Not like?”
He bit his lip.
“Can I sit a moment? I’ve travelled quite far.”
The boy shuffled along the step, even though there was already plenty of room.
Clara stuck out her hand. “I’m Clara.”
The boy took her hand and shook it seriously. “Mikey, Mikey King.”
“Please to meet you, Mikey. So, what’s wrong with Auburn?”
He shrugged. “I’m just having a bad day, s’all.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk to someone.”
“I would talk to Bobby, but I’m not allowed anymore.”
“Oh no. Why not?”
“Cos his daddy don’t want him playing with me now we go to different schools.”
“It’s hard when friends go to different schools, but it doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends.”
“His daddy don’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“Cos Bobby is white and goes to a white school. I’m black and go to a black school.”
She sighed. “Nineteen thirties America. I’m sorry, Mikey.”
“So I can’t tell Bobby about my problems.”
“Would it help to tell me?”
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try me.”
“You won’t laugh?”
“I promise.”
Mikey looked around, then lowered his voice. “Okay. I’ve been having nightmares. Really bad nightmares.”
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Mikey – we all get nightmares.”
“They’re the worst nightmares in the whole wide world.”
“You know, sometimes it helps to take something bad and concentrate on turning it into something good. So find the opposite of a nightmare and try to think about that instead.”
“Like a nice dream?”
“Yes, turn a nightmare into a dream. Can you do that?”
“No, I don’t think I can. These are different. These are really, really bad nightmares. I’m asleep, but it’s like I wake up but I can’t move and I can’t stop them. I can’t move, so I lie there in the dark whilst they… peck at me.”
“Peck at you?”
“They aren’t birds. They’re bigger and meaner. They come out of the shadows. I don’t want it to get dark. I don’t want to go to bed. They’re gonna eat me again. They’re gonna gobble me all up until nothing is left.”
“I think I know someone who can help you, Mikey. His name is the Doctor and he helps people solve their problems.”
“Can he help me with mine?”
“He can and will.”
Mikey began to smile. “You promise?”
“I do.”
“He ain’t gonna give me an injection, is he?”
“He’s not that kind of doctor. There are many doctors – he is the one who comes when people need a different type of help – no matter where or when you are.”
“A different kind of doctor?”
“Look – there he is now.”
Clara pointed to the right where the Doctor was approaching, eyes fixed on his screwdriver. He walked into the mailbox.
“Who put that there?” he asked.
“He’s gonna help me?”
“He is. It’s best to think of him like a mad scientist, a man so focused on science he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.”
“Like a mailbox?”
“Like a mailbox.”
“Ah, Clara, small child…” the Doctor began, “hello small child.”
“I’m Mikey.”
“I’ve been around the block,” the Doctor said, “actually several times. There is a definite cluster of them, but the main energy tracks back to here.”
Clara put her hands over Mikey’s ears. “Would the person under attack be getting nightmares?”
“Oh most definitely. A child would probably experience nightmares, whereas an adult would probably describe night terrors.”
Clara signalled the boy with her eyes. “Then I think we’ve found our victim.”
The Doctor put his hands on Clara’s and pulled them off Mikey’s ears. “Hello, I’m the Doctor – but you can call me Doctor.”
The boy put out his hand. “I’m Mikey.”
Crouching the Doctor looked deep into his eyes. “I hear you’ve been having some nightmares young Mikey.”
The boy nodded.
“Every night?”
“Two nights now, sir.”
“Two nights. Okay.” The Doctor sprang up and turned to Clara, keeping his back to Mikey. “That’s enough to do some damage, but hopefully not too much.” He spun back to Mikey, “your dreams are caused by the monsters that live under your bed…”
“My momma says monsters don’t exist.”
“That’s because all adults have forgotten about them, the monsters only like to nibble on children.”
“They’ve been nibbling on me?”
“Doctor,” Clara interrupted, “should you be telling him all this?”
“Why not, Clara. I need him to be angry, I need him to be very angry. Tonight, Mikey, those monsters are going to try and creep out from under the bed and out of the shadows in the closet. They want to nibble on your soul Mikey, but with your help I will make sure they’re not going to manage it. We are going to fight them off.”
“Fight them? How?”
The Doctor looked upwards, as if he was doing a very complex calculation. “I’m going to need a funnel, a sonic screwdriver and an energy source. The bigger the better. Luckily I already have a sonic screwdriver.”
“What’s an energy source?” Mikey asked.
“Something that gives out electricity,” Clara said, “like a plug socket or a battery.”
“Daddy’s car has a battery – he showed me it when he explained to me how it worked.”
“Perfect.” The Doctor said, “Now if we put it all together now we should have enough time for a cup of tea before it all kicks off.”
“Daddy’s car is parked on the street.”
“Lead they way, young man, lead the way.”
Mikey smiled for the first time. Clara put out her hand and helped him to his feet.
“It’s this way.”
Mikey down the path and past the mail box. He pointed to a shiny red car with a black trim. “That’s it.”
“Nice car,” Clara said.
“Model Y Ford,” the Doctor said with a smile, patting the side of the car, “if I’m not very much mistaken. And I’m not. She reminds me of Bessie.” He walked around to the side of the car and slid up the side of the bonnet.
Clara peered inside. There was an abundance of wires. “It looks… busy.”
“Ah, after tinkering with the insides of the TARDIS this is nothing…” and he began to pull off the wires with a mixture of confidence and ignorance.
“Hey, this ain’t gonna hurt Daddy’s car, is it?” Mikey asked, “I mean, you can put it back together – right?”
“Oh, yes.” The Doctor looked at a
wire in confusion. “Now what do you do?”
Mikey looked at Clara.
“Don’t worry – we’ll fix it.”
“I sure hope so, or Daddy’s gonna be mad.”
“Help me, Clara,” the Doctor said, “it’s rather hefty.”
“And dirty.”
“Skin has this amazing property, Clara, it’s waterproof and wipe clean.”
She took a breath and put her hands on the battery.
“One, two, three…” the Doctor said.
He was right, it was hefty. Between them, they managed to pull it out and set it on the ground.
“We need to get this up to Mikey’s room. One, two, three… Mikey, lead the way.”
“Come round the back.”
Clara and the Doctor lugged the car battery after Mikey, who went up the steps and turned right under the porch. Around the back Mikey held open a screen door for them and they carried the battery into the kitchen.
“Mikey King what are you up to?” a woman asked.
“Momma, this is the Doctor and Clara.”
The woman dried her hands on a towel and looked at the two strangers suspiciously.
“Where are my manners?” the Doctor said and rummaged in his pocket for his psychic paper. “Here we are…” and he held the paper out in front of her. “You got the letter through the school I take it?”
She took the paper in her hand and inspected it closely. “No.”
“Really? They forgot to send it? It’s most important we carry out our experiment on dream states…”
“What university is this?” Mikey’s mother asked.
“Edinburgh,” the Doctor said.
“Hence the funny accent,” Clara said.
“I think it’s a very fine accent, Doctor. Please go ahead and set up your equipment, but I won’t have Mikey’s sleep disturbed. His daddy gets back from Germany tomorrow and I want him well rested to welcome him home.”
“Ma’m, our little experiment will ensure Mikey sleeps soundly.”
“Go ahead then.”
The Doctor and Clara lifted the battery through the kitchen. The Doctor turned. “I don’t suppose