The Lonely

I’m used to being on my own. It’s just how I grew up. Ever since I can remember I was always alone. I was never one to complain though. In which my mum was happy for. She told me that I didn’t cry much as a baby and giving birth to me was a breeze.

My dad died when I was 13. And my mum was always on business trips. So I grew up to a mostly lonely and quiet house. I had no siblings either. It was just me and my imagination. But I never complained.

When my dad was alive, he was a writer. He wrote all the time in his office in the back of the house. Sadly, before he died he only published two of the many stories he wrote. He always said that he didn’t mind not being a known author; he just wanted to write. But I knew that he wanted more of his stories to be read by the world.

He was always a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He was always looking on the bright side of things. I really don’t know why he and mum ever got married. They were complete opposites. My mum was always so uptight and sometimes down right scary. She pushed me to do my hardest in school, always telling me that I could do better.

When she would leave on business trips, I usually stayed at home and just watched t.v. or read. Sometimes I would go and sit in dad’s office and read some of his stories. Mum never did like it when I did so, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

Once I moved out, I was 19. I got a nice flat in the city. It wasn’t in a bad neighborhood and my neighbors were nice. It was the kind of flats that you could leave your door unlocked and come home to a plate of cookies from the old lady a floor up. Of course I’m speaking from experience.

Mrs. Jenkins was the nicest lady I had ever met. She was your typical old lady with a short, round, curly haircut and a few cats to go along. She was always trying to get me to come up into her flat to meet her cats. But I would always make up an excuse because honestly, I wasn’t a big cat person.

On Saturdays, I usually went to do some laundry. So that’s were I was heading. I had a bag full of worn clothes over my shoulder as I was walking down the street. It wasn’t a long walk to the laundry-mat, so I didn’t bother trying to catch a taxi cab. When I pushed open the door to my destination, I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t going to be a normal Saturday. And I had no idea that I was going to be right.

After getting all of my clothes into the washer and starting it, I told Murray, the owner, that I was going to get some chips. I stepped back onto the sidewalk and walked down to a nearby shop. I ordered some chips and a soda before taking a seat by the window.

The sky was clear and bright, but it was awfully chilly. Winter was inching closer, causing everyone to start digging around in their coat closets for something to cover up and keep warm with. I know I did. Winter was one of my favorite times, honestly. But it was just never the same without my dad.

When I got my chips and soda to go, I stepped out and into the Fall breeze. The wind nipped at my nose, but I didn’t mind really. The chips were keeping me warm. I got back to the laundry-mat and put my stuff into the dryer. I sat on one of the benches as I ate my chips and waited silently for my clothes to be done.

The bell dinged, letting everyone know that a new body had joined the warmth of the building. But no one really looked up. I mean, I didn’t. I was too involved with my chips.

“Those any good?” A voice rang, dragging my attention from my beloved chips.

I looked up, seeing a man with a spiky, brown hairdo. He was wearing a suit with a trench coat over it with a pair of converse to call the outfit casual. I looked back down to my chips, noticing that they were almost gone.

I nodded while saying, “They’re fantastic, actually.” I gave the stranger a smile before lifting the paper basket up. He smiled back before taking two chips in his hands and popping them in his mouth. He made a face of approval.

“You’re right,” He said, “They are absolutely fantastic.”

I finished off the rest of them before throwing the basket in the trash, along with my empty Styrofoam cup. Then I started to pull my dry clothes back into my bag. The man stood next to me, leaning against the other dryers as he watched me shove the clothes into my bag.

“Is there something I could help you with?” I asked as I glanced up at him.

He smiled, “Well, now that you mention it, I’ve been trying to track down a Georgia Jenkins.”

I nodded once as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “She leaves a floor up from me,” I told him as I started out the door. He followed. “I could show you where it is.”

He smiled in thanks. Then it went silent. I bit my lip, concentrating on plain sidewalk in front of me. I peeked up at him then muttered, “I’m Melody, by the way. Melody Atwood.”

“The Doctor,” He said causing me to squint my eyes at him and stop walking all together. He stopped when I did, giving me a look of confusion.

“I’m sorry. What?”

He almost laughed but stopped himself to repeat himself, “I’m the Doctor and I’m very pleased to meet you, Melody Atwood.”

I continued to stare at him, not sure if someone could really be named ‘the Doctor’ but I just shrugged and continued walking. The rest of the trip was silent. Even in the lift. He didn’t seemed fazed by the silence one bit.

The lift stopped at my floor and I hopped out and turned around before giving a wave and saying, “Goodbye, Doctor. It was nice meeting you.”

He gave a small wave himself and said, “And to you Melody Atwood. But I do believe that we will meet again.”

I was about to question him, but the lift door closed. What in the world did he mean by that? It was sort of creepy the way he said it. I stared at the chrome doors for a moment before shaking my head and going off into my flat.

I opened the door and the first thing I smelled was warm, fresh cookies. I smiled as I threw the bag of clothes onto the couch. Then I ran over to the table where I found a plate filled with cookies and a note. ‘Enjoy’ was the only thing written on it, but I knew who sent them.

I picked one of them up. They were still warm, which told me that they were freshly cooked. I smiled and started to talk a bite when the door flew open and the cookie was slapped out of my hand.

Surprised by this, I let out a tiny scream. I looked up to find the Doctor as the culprit. My eyebrow knitted together in confusion.

“What was that for?!” I shouted as I picked up the cookie off the floor. With a small depressed sigh, I threw the cookie in the trash bin. Then spun around to stare at him with my arms crossed over my chest.

The Doctor had a pair of glasses on and was examining the cookies that were on the plate. He broke one in half then ran his tongue along the insides. His calm expression was replaced by a disgusted one.

“Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean I don’t.” I muttered.

“Oh you’re not gonna like this batch,” He said in a matter of fact kind of tone. “There’s poison in these.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Mrs. Jenkins wouldn’t poison me. She’s been giving me cookies since the first day I moved in. Like he was reading my mind, he outstretched his arm, holding his hand out towards me.

“Come here,” He demanded, not taking his eyes off of the food.

I hesitated at first, but then filled his hand with my own. He drew his arm in, bringing me with him and opened my hand up. He dropped a tiny crumb in my hand. I stared at it for a moment then looked up at him. He looked back at me with a slight smirk on his face.

“Taste it then,” He said smugly.

I picked up the crumb with my index finger and thumb then dropped it in my mouth. Just from that one tiny crumb, I could taste the worst thing I had ever tasted before in my life. It was sickening and I truly thought I was going to vomit.

“Why would she try to poison me!” I screeched.

The Doctor shook his head then turned and started for the door. I glanced at the cookies then back to him where he was outside of my flat, pushing the button for the lift. When the doors opened he stepped inside.

“Well,” he called, “You coming or what?”

I quickly scurried into the lift right before the doors closed. I crossed my arms and looked at him. He looked back at me, raising an eyebrow at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked feeling the lift raise.

He looked straight ahead and replied, “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I tilted my head to the side as a ‘wanna bet?’ look flashed across my face. He looked back at me and said, “Fine. Sweet Mrs. Jenkins is actually an alien from another planet and is trying to poison young adult females, like yourself, so they become her species’ slaves.”

I gapped at him for a moment before nodding my head, “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”