Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Picking, choosing and losing
So! Last time I posted here (before the Nicholas Courtney tribute) I was going mad with ideas for writing projects! Now I've managed to boil them down to a few good ones. I've got a new novel project (I know I should focus on the old one, but I'm 'feeling' this one more!) called "Changing" - it's partly based on real life stuff and partly supernatural. I could never ever write anything based solely on reality! The second I'm still not sure on - I know I want to do something sort of Sherlock Holmes meets Inidiana Jones, but I've not gotten much further than that! I've had ideas for a race between detectives and ideas of incorporating the Illuminati, just because they're cool to play around with - especially when you're given the freedom to imagine they really are a significant organisation. Speaking or Mr. Holmes, I'm back on the scripts for "Consulting Detective". Adam has conceded defeat at the hand of his first script and I've taken over - for now, anyway! So I'm busy pottering away on episode one, explaining Sherlock's impossible deductions. It's actually incredibly fun when you know how he did it! So, I've picked and chosen the best bits from my ideas to form my two new novel ideas (I've already started writing Changing - will post an extract soon!) and that brings me to the other part of this post title - losing. Nothing too major, but my lovely PC has decided to die. This means I'm confined to using my dad's laptop, whenever I can and is generally restricting on the amount of time I can spend writing. Oh well, hopefully all will be sorted soon and I'll be word-weaving away again! I'll post again as soon as possible, with an extract from my latest work - and the few of you who read this blog will be lucky enough to see it!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
RIP Nicholas Courtney
As the Doctor Who fans amongst you may know, Nicholas Courtney, who played the prestigious role of the Brigadier, died last week. This short story is my tribute to the amazing actor and the amazing character he played.
--
The Brigadier’s Funeral
Another tear rolled slowly down the face of Sarah Jane Smith. She was stood in silence, near the front of the gathered congregation, watching the funeral proceedings. Clyde, Rani, Luke and even K-9 were by her side, all sharing in the deep sadness that adorned the hearts of everyone present. Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart had died.
Soldiers stood still, upright as always, displaying the respect of the military. Many of them looked far too young to have ever known the Brigadier in his prime, but they all knew the stories, the legends, of his work. Looking across the room, Clyde noticed Jo Jones and her grandson, Santiago, along with a mix of people he did not recognise, though Sarah Jane had seemed to know most of them; old UNIT soldiers and companions to the Doctor who had been fortunate enough to meet the Brigadier. All stood silently, all deeply saddened by the loss the world had suffered. There was not a single face that hadn’t felt the brush of tears that day. As the reverend, at the front of the church, stepped aside to allow someone to say a few words, Clyde turned his attention back to the altar.
The coffin sat atop a beautifully decorated table, adorned with flowers of every kind and what seemed like a thousand medals. In place of a table cloth was a broad, shining flag, bearing the emblem of UNIT. On top of the coffin’s polished surface sat, neatly folded, the Brigadier’s old uniform, his hat tidily perched there, displaying his gleaming, golden badge.
A smartly dressed, balding man, UNIT Colonel Mace, stepped up to one of the church’s altars, taking a moment to silently regard that lavishly decorated wooden tomb. Clearing his throat a little, he turned to the mass of people stood in the pews, feeling the same pain and grievance as them.
“I cannot say I knew Sir Alistair very well.” He began, slowly, treating every word with delicate respect. “But to have known him at all is a great honour. He was a brave man, one of the bravest the human race has ever had to offer. Needless to say, I’m sure, that we all owe him so much more than we ourselves could ever know. The cases in which our dearest Brigadier had involved himself were some of the most impressive to ever enter UNIT’s records. He was there at UNIT’s formation and had since seen some of the greatest threats to our survival that have ever dared set foot upon this planet. Every one of them, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart stood against with his unerring courage and determination. A fighter, a brave man, and a hero, to the end.” Mace paused, allowing the memories and thoughts of Sir Alistair to settle in his mind, before continuing. “After all his years of service to UNIT and to the human race, it was no extraterrestrial threat, or violent aggressor that ended Sir Alistair’s life. No, he was, in the end, defeated by the one opponent none of us could ever escape – time. And he accepted it with more grace and peace than many would ever have had the bravery, or the soul, to do. He will be dearly missed, by us and by everyone.”
With a final nod and a few, almost silent, words to the Brigadier, Colonel Mace walked back to his place amongst the assembly, resuming his own silent sorrow.
As the day swept on, there were a few more speeches, before a final few words from the church’s reverend, after which, people started to make their departures. For some, it was the first time they had seen each other in many long years, but hardly any of them spoke to each other. Instead, as they all slowly, gradually, made their way from the church, one by one different attendants of the service would travel to the coffin, paying their own respects to the man who had meant so much.
Sarah Jane did so herself, when most of the others had left. Luke, Rani and Clyde went with her, K-9 quietly trundling along behind. Wiping another tear from her eye, Sarah Jane placed her hand on the cold wooden casket, speaking to her old friend.
“Goodbye, Sir Alistair. And thank you.”
She was unable to manage any more, and walked away, towards the heavy oak doors at the other end of the church, the others all with her, offering her their support. As they entered the churchyard, the cold breeze washed over them, the February weather providing a bitter welcome. Sarah Jane had seen so many familiar faces, but was in no mood to talk. Instead, she walked straight to her car, the other three and K-9 in tow. The Brigadier had been the best human she had ever known and the loss of him was so terrible that she did not even stop at the familiar sound of ancient, groaning engines.
The large blue shape of the TARDIS stood in the church’s graveyard, where Sir Alistair’s body would soon be laid to rest. The door opened and a single, solitary figure stepped out, wearing a tweed jacket and black bowtie. Locking the wooden police box’s doors behind him, the Doctor silently made his way into the now empty church.
Every footstep he made echoed emptily against the building’s stone walls, as he approached the elaborate coffin, where his old friend lay at rest. Coming to a stop by its side, the Doctor laid his hand on the box, his head bowed in solemn respect.
“Alistair. I always wished this day would never come. Always wished it would be another one of those dates I could run away from. But I could never run away from this.”
The Time Lord dropped his hand to his side, slowly starting to walk around the coffin, admiring the Brigadier’s extensive array of medals.
“All the things we did, Alistair, all the things we saw! All those creatures we faced together. The Daleks, the Cybermen, Zygons, Silurians, the Master, the Autons – remember the Autons?” Coming to a halt, a grin broke out on the Doctor’s face, as he reminisced with his friend, though sadness was still potent in his eyes. The expression faded, only an echo of a smile left on his features as he spoke, more quietly now, to the man who had helped him so many times in so many ways. “I owe you my life, Alistair. We might have had our disagreements over the years, but I can honestly say you were the best man I ever knew. Truly, the greatest example of what humanity is capable of.”
Regarding the coffin with a sad smile, remembering one of his greatest friends and one of Earth’s greatest heroes, the Doctor spoke with the air, authority and manner of every one of his eleven lives, every one of them wanting to wish Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart a final farewell.
“Goodbye, Alistair. Goodbye; Brigadier.”
--
The Brigadier’s Funeral
Another tear rolled slowly down the face of Sarah Jane Smith. She was stood in silence, near the front of the gathered congregation, watching the funeral proceedings. Clyde, Rani, Luke and even K-9 were by her side, all sharing in the deep sadness that adorned the hearts of everyone present. Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart had died.
Soldiers stood still, upright as always, displaying the respect of the military. Many of them looked far too young to have ever known the Brigadier in his prime, but they all knew the stories, the legends, of his work. Looking across the room, Clyde noticed Jo Jones and her grandson, Santiago, along with a mix of people he did not recognise, though Sarah Jane had seemed to know most of them; old UNIT soldiers and companions to the Doctor who had been fortunate enough to meet the Brigadier. All stood silently, all deeply saddened by the loss the world had suffered. There was not a single face that hadn’t felt the brush of tears that day. As the reverend, at the front of the church, stepped aside to allow someone to say a few words, Clyde turned his attention back to the altar.
The coffin sat atop a beautifully decorated table, adorned with flowers of every kind and what seemed like a thousand medals. In place of a table cloth was a broad, shining flag, bearing the emblem of UNIT. On top of the coffin’s polished surface sat, neatly folded, the Brigadier’s old uniform, his hat tidily perched there, displaying his gleaming, golden badge.
A smartly dressed, balding man, UNIT Colonel Mace, stepped up to one of the church’s altars, taking a moment to silently regard that lavishly decorated wooden tomb. Clearing his throat a little, he turned to the mass of people stood in the pews, feeling the same pain and grievance as them.
“I cannot say I knew Sir Alistair very well.” He began, slowly, treating every word with delicate respect. “But to have known him at all is a great honour. He was a brave man, one of the bravest the human race has ever had to offer. Needless to say, I’m sure, that we all owe him so much more than we ourselves could ever know. The cases in which our dearest Brigadier had involved himself were some of the most impressive to ever enter UNIT’s records. He was there at UNIT’s formation and had since seen some of the greatest threats to our survival that have ever dared set foot upon this planet. Every one of them, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart stood against with his unerring courage and determination. A fighter, a brave man, and a hero, to the end.” Mace paused, allowing the memories and thoughts of Sir Alistair to settle in his mind, before continuing. “After all his years of service to UNIT and to the human race, it was no extraterrestrial threat, or violent aggressor that ended Sir Alistair’s life. No, he was, in the end, defeated by the one opponent none of us could ever escape – time. And he accepted it with more grace and peace than many would ever have had the bravery, or the soul, to do. He will be dearly missed, by us and by everyone.”
With a final nod and a few, almost silent, words to the Brigadier, Colonel Mace walked back to his place amongst the assembly, resuming his own silent sorrow.
As the day swept on, there were a few more speeches, before a final few words from the church’s reverend, after which, people started to make their departures. For some, it was the first time they had seen each other in many long years, but hardly any of them spoke to each other. Instead, as they all slowly, gradually, made their way from the church, one by one different attendants of the service would travel to the coffin, paying their own respects to the man who had meant so much.
Sarah Jane did so herself, when most of the others had left. Luke, Rani and Clyde went with her, K-9 quietly trundling along behind. Wiping another tear from her eye, Sarah Jane placed her hand on the cold wooden casket, speaking to her old friend.
“Goodbye, Sir Alistair. And thank you.”
She was unable to manage any more, and walked away, towards the heavy oak doors at the other end of the church, the others all with her, offering her their support. As they entered the churchyard, the cold breeze washed over them, the February weather providing a bitter welcome. Sarah Jane had seen so many familiar faces, but was in no mood to talk. Instead, she walked straight to her car, the other three and K-9 in tow. The Brigadier had been the best human she had ever known and the loss of him was so terrible that she did not even stop at the familiar sound of ancient, groaning engines.
The large blue shape of the TARDIS stood in the church’s graveyard, where Sir Alistair’s body would soon be laid to rest. The door opened and a single, solitary figure stepped out, wearing a tweed jacket and black bowtie. Locking the wooden police box’s doors behind him, the Doctor silently made his way into the now empty church.
Every footstep he made echoed emptily against the building’s stone walls, as he approached the elaborate coffin, where his old friend lay at rest. Coming to a stop by its side, the Doctor laid his hand on the box, his head bowed in solemn respect.
“Alistair. I always wished this day would never come. Always wished it would be another one of those dates I could run away from. But I could never run away from this.”
The Time Lord dropped his hand to his side, slowly starting to walk around the coffin, admiring the Brigadier’s extensive array of medals.
“All the things we did, Alistair, all the things we saw! All those creatures we faced together. The Daleks, the Cybermen, Zygons, Silurians, the Master, the Autons – remember the Autons?” Coming to a halt, a grin broke out on the Doctor’s face, as he reminisced with his friend, though sadness was still potent in his eyes. The expression faded, only an echo of a smile left on his features as he spoke, more quietly now, to the man who had helped him so many times in so many ways. “I owe you my life, Alistair. We might have had our disagreements over the years, but I can honestly say you were the best man I ever knew. Truly, the greatest example of what humanity is capable of.”
Regarding the coffin with a sad smile, remembering one of his greatest friends and one of Earth’s greatest heroes, the Doctor spoke with the air, authority and manner of every one of his eleven lives, every one of them wanting to wish Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart a final farewell.
“Goodbye, Alistair. Goodbye; Brigadier.”
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