Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction
A gift for the future By Hannah Bacon
Abraham had not expected a call from The Doctor that morning. He had always been diligent about his appointments, so it was with great trepidation that Abraham knocked on
The Doctor’s door and entered.
“Abraham, come in.” The Doctor smiled, he nodded to the chair opposite him. Abraham removed his cap and sat down. The Doctor began to rummage through a large box of files at his feet.
“What is this regarding, Doctor? I haven’t missed an appointment have I?” Abraham asked, turning his cap over in his hands.
“No Abraham, it’s not about your appointments. Ah! Here it is!” The Doctor threw a thin blue file down on the desk between them. Abraham gripped his cap tightly. He had seen his usual folder, a thick tattered brown thing, many times over the forty years he had known the doctor. This was not that folder.
“No, not already.” Abraham whimpered. The Doctor leaned over and patted Abraham’s hand.
“Afraid so.” The Doctor pulled out the contract.
“Who...” Abraham paused. “Who is it?”
The Doctor gave Abraham a sympathetic smile before picking up his telephone.
“Thomas? Could you send Evelyn in?”
Abraham dropped his cap.
“Not her!” He cried, grabbing the contract, desperately scanning it for a way out. Had he really done this? It had been so long ago, such an easy thing to agree to when it had been so far in the future. When he hadn’t known who.
“You can’t possibly hold me to this. It was forty years ago, I was a different person back then. I can’t be held responsible for this. Evie can’t be held responsible for this.” Abraham shouted shaking the contract violently.
“That was the arrangement, we all agreed.” The Doctor kicked the large box of files under his desk. “I can’t magic life out of nothing, there has to be a donor.”
“I won’t do it.” Abraham threw the contract across the desk. The Doctor sighed heavily, visibly annoyed.
“No point trying to martyr yourself now, Abraham. It’s already started. You’ll only accomplish an extra death. We both know how precious life is. What a waste that would be.”
They were interrupted by a timid knock on the door.
“Come in.” The Doctor called and Evelyn’s inquisitive face peeked around the door.
Abraham buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
“Grandad? What’s wrong?” Evelyn cried, running to his side.
“I’m... so... Sorry” He gasped.
“What’s happened? Are you sick?” She grabbed his hand and Abraham forced himself to look her in the eyes. In eight years it had never ceased to amaze him how similar they were to his own. So unlike his other grandchildren.
“Can’t you take one of the others?” Abraham whispered.
“It’s too late.” The Doctor replied. Evelyn turned to him, startled.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“An old friend of your Grandfather’s” He answered, walking around the desk and reaching out his hand. “Evelyn, it’s time for you to come with me.”
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