Tag Archives: Doctor Who

Acceptance, Courage, and Wisdom – Living without Guilt

If there’s one thing I will take into the New Year – 2018 – it’s living positively,
and to do that convincingly I am doing away with internal judgement and guilt.

Acceptance, Courage, and Wisdom - Living without Guilt - The Last Krystallos

Not only are we quick to judge one another, but we do it to ourselves all the time and it piles on the guilt. We have to appreciate that we are human beings and we have limitations. We can do all we can, but then we have to know that we can do no more and not sink into a pit of guilt. That metaphor is real, guilt is a pit. It’s a pit of sludge that weighs us down and sticks and stops us from climbing out.

I beat myself up about what I cannot do, and I persuade myself that others are judging me on my flaws and failings. None of us are perfect, none of us are meant to be.

We are all creatures that struggle and rise and fall, and need support, compassion, understanding, and love. Practise those same tenets on yourself too.

The-Prayer-of-Serenity-Niebuhr-The-Last-Krystallos

© Lisa Shambrook

The Prayer of Serenity was written for all of us, whether you believe God gives you power or you find your power from within, this plea is for all: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference – Reinhold Niebuhr.

Let us practise love and acceptance from within and without. I know that when I struggle I’m not the only one, others around me are struggling too. If we could remember that when we think of others, even when we feel hurt or betrayed, we will be better, kinder, gentler people. I wrote recently about Being Kind, and it truly is the way to be, the only way to be. If we can be kind to those around us we can be kind to ourselves.

I wish as human beings we could live as the twelfth Doctor recently prescribed: Never be cruel, never be cowardly, and never, ever eat pears! Remember, hate is always foolish, and love is always wise. Laugh Hard, Run Fast, Be Kind. OK, pears are fine, sorry Ten, really they are, but the rest – yes.

Always – Be Kind – within and without.

 

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Those Moments before Sleep – which you’ll Never Remember…

I don’t know why the human brain allows us to conjure up
such brilliance as we fall asleep, but it does.

the-moments-before-sleep-dream-wake-the-last-krystallos-quote

Keep a notebook beside your bed and use it…and the ironic thing is my quote above was scribbled into my phone on One Note almost as I fell asleep…so you truly might just capture that moment of magic.

dream-bekah-the-doctors-journal-of-impossible-things

Bekah’s GCSE art from 2009 and The Doctor’s Journal of Impossible Things from ‘Human Nature’ episode, where John Smith keeps a journal of his dreams.

Don’t lose those thoughts, storylines, plans and grand ideas…keep a pen and notebook by your bed, or memo app on your phone…and write them down! 

Will Self said on writing:
“Always carry a notebook. And I mean always. The short-term memory only retains information for three minutes; unless it is committed to paper you can lose an idea for ever.”

FlashMob: Time

blue boc, the doctor, Doctor Who, flash mob writes,

© Lisa Shambrook

My mouth curls upwards, unconsciously. Excitement pounds within my heart and my legs wobble, just for a moment.

“Are you coming?” he calls, turning back. His eyes pierce me; they’re green, as green as a peridot gemstone, and just as glistening.

Again, for a moment, I can’t speak. I just stand and gaze. He grins back, a boyish smile in a face that defies years, but speaks of youth and adventure. My heart slams against my ribs.

“Yes,” I whisper, as he fidgets and sweeps a hand through his auburn hair. The light, flashing behind him lights up his silhouette giving him a halo. I giggle. “Yes, I’m coming!”

I pull my wibbly legs together and set off after him, at a run to keep up. His stride lengthens and my heart leaps as my feet thump the pavement.

His coat flows like a cape, like a long gothic cloak, and for another moment, I imagine a deerstalker on his head, but no, this is not Sherlock…and I am not Watson.

His boots, buckled and studded, rap on the ground and I catch up. He turns to me again, not missing a step as I stumble beneath his gaze.

“You’re good with this?” he asks, that twinkle seeping into my very soul.

I nod. “Oh, yes, I’m good with this!” I reply.

Pale freckles, saturated by lamplight, dance upon his cheeks, across his nose, and I can barely restrain myself from reaching up and pushing his red hair out of his eyes. He shakes his hair away from his face.

“So,” he pauses, literally, and I almost run into him. “When did you know?”

“Kn-know what?” I stammer.

“When did you know you were coming with me?” His eyes search mine and I lower my face, staring at my shoes. His hand immediately lifts my chin and I cannot help but stare into those eyes.  If I didn’t know already, then this would be the moment! I cannot speak, my tongue is lost, and my heart threatens to explode from my chest.

“Secretly, I think you knew when we had lunch, that first day…” he grins.

And he’s right. My mind scrolls back, to the day we’d run, so much running, but we’d stopped to eat, finally famished.

I nod. “The fish fingers and custard did it for me!” I smile.

He cocks his head and stares deeply into my eyes then let’s go of my face and chuckles. “Yep, that’s often the moment!” Then he’s gone, again, striding ahead.

“Doctor!” I call, “Wait for me…”

My heart is yet again in my mouth as I round the corner and there he is, leaning against the doorway of the blue box, pooled in white light and promises of adventure…

(459 words)

Flash Mob, flash fiction challenge, flash mob writes,A new flash fiction challenge from Flash Mob Writes…choose your prompt and write 300 – 500 words…enjoy!

Dirty Goggles: A Blue Heart

This is my second entry into the Dirty Goggles Blog Hop, run by Ruth, Jen, and Steven. this time it’s an attempt at Dieselpunk.

A Blue Heart
Dieselpunk
691 Words
Lisa Shambrook
@LastKrystallos
Safe Content

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
A Blue Heart
Nell was fed up with waiting. She watched the indigo skies night after night, but he failed to return. 
She smoothed down her combat trousers, and buckled up her boots.
He’d told her to be patient that he’d seen her future and it was good. 
She sighed as the building vibrated with the closeness of the dirigible flying low overhead, and she imagined the vibration and hum, desperately trying to change it to fit…
She expertly ran her fingers up her weathered, leather jacket, tightening buckles. She was ready, even if he wasn’t.
She grabbed her Derringer, and checked its barrel before closing the breach and engaging the safety. Nell cast a glance out of the window one last time before she flicked the ugly generator’s switch, extinguishing the light, and strode out of the door. “Damn you,” she muttered as she clattered down the iron stairs and out into the street. 
Mist shrouded the road and gas lamps were halos of light amid the haze. Nell wandered, her fingers reaching up to her neck, stroking the blue heart at her throat. Its silver cogs and contorted wires reminded her of the complicated man who’d given it to her and she smiled. She walked, restless, her eyes flickering over the glistening pavements and her ears listening over the sound of the train on the track behind her. 
She searched.
He’d caressed his bow tie, bowed low and told her to watch her heart, her blue heart, but wouldn’t give her another word, didn’t want to spoil anything. Then he’d gone.
Was one adventure all a girl got?
 A scream echoed through the night and Nell ran. The chill night air tore down her throat and stung her eyes but she ran all the same.  The scream rang out again and Nell ducked. She stared, watching a dark figure dragging a young woman across the tracks. She reached for her gun, and chased after the shadows. 
The girl lie limp in his arms and Nell swung into action. She brandished her pistol and marched forward. “Let her go!” she ordered stepping over the rails. Fear was a thing of the past, she been through too much, seen too much to waste time on fear.
He turned and grinned, and Nell steeled herself. She only had two shots and they were only any good at close range. She closed in, still clasping the pistol in outstretched hands. “Let her go,” she repeated.  
The man silently cast his hostage aside and in one quick, unexpected movement had Nell in a head-lock, one hand twisted up behind her back and the other still clutching her useless weapon.
Fear came flooding back.
Her pendant tightened against her skin, its chain choked her and began to cut into her throat. She dropped the pistol and grabbed at her necklace, but it was too tight and she began to lose consciousness. 
Her eyes bulged and her breath caught and her ears drummed. 
The throbbing sound built, humming, hissing, throbbing…until a hefty motorbike roared up the gravel and squealed to a stop, spitting grit. Exhaust smoke filled the air and shouts rang out, followed by shots. 
Nell dropped to the ground, clutching at her throat. She stared behind at the mound that had been her assailant and watched the goggled man in the grey, military greatcoat as he helped the first victim up off the ground. A small crowd gathered and Nell gathered her senses. Army Officers arrived and removed the body as her saviour approached, his hand extended. 
“Jack…”he offered, “…and you are?”
“Nell,” she murmured gazing up at him.
“And this must be yours…” He opened his fist and revealed her pendant. He smoothed his short, oiled, black hair as he roughly pushed his goggles up onto his head.
She nodded, and accepted her blue heart from the man with eyes that matched the stone precisely. He glanced at his leather wrist strap, and pressed a blue button, and smiled at Nell expectantly as he revved his bike. She grinned and stared up into the indigo skies. Maybe a girl really was allowed just one more adventure!

Five Sentence Fiction: Scarlet

He watched as she leaned nonchalantly against his blue, wooden box, a smile playing on her crimson lips as she listened, and he unwittingly ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair, “It’s just that I had it in my head that our meeting would be patriotic…the Ood prophecy was always in my mind when I thought of what, sorry, who you would be, and that white, military coat of yours,” he reached forward and tapped one of her smart, silver buttons, “will suffice, and you’re leaning against the bluest thing here…”
Her smile grew wider as she felt the Tardis, warm against her back.
“But red, we have nothing red, nothing to achieve the patriotic trio, red, white and blue!” he paused and sighed, “nothing red.”
Her grin broadened, “Ask me, Doctor…ask me my name.”
His shoulders rose questioningly as did his eyebrows and she placed a finger delicately on his lips, “I’m Scarlett.”