Rec: Flowers in Summer
May. 9th, 2008 08:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Story: Flowers in Summer
Author: Icepixie
Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 4248
Author's summary: Charley comes back to Earth. Cecilia Pollard reports. [Spoilers through "Neverland." Eight/Charley, but not excessively so.]
Characters/Pairings: Charley Pollard, Eighth Doctor, other characters
Warnings: none
Recced because: This is a lovely audio-based fic told by an engaging narrator. When Charley went off to travel with the Eighth Doctor, she left behind a family that included a younger sister, Cecilia (nicknamed "Sissy"). Six months after being presumed dead, Charley returns home alone. The story, related via Sissy's journal entries, briefly summarizes the time period between Charley's disappearance and return, then goes into more detail after she's back home. The author establishes an evocative, bittersweet tone that feels just right.
My one concern: Sissy appears in a Gallifrey audio, which Icepixie hadn't heard (neither have I!), so her characterization in this story might be very different. But if readers can get past that potential issue, or don't consider it a problem to begin with, I think they'll really enjoy Flowers in Summer.
"I met Shakespeare once," Charley said suddenly, startling me out of the half-sleep I'd slipped into.
"What?" I asked, feeling cotton-headed and stupid.
"He was eight years old. At the time, anyway. There was a woman who wanted to kill him, oddly enough, and then the Daleks got involved..."
Before I knew it, she was off on another tale. I wondered sometimes at the finer details, and particularly at Charley's actions in a few of them, but I still absolutely believed that she had traveled in time and seen all those wonders. I believed her because of the fear in her voice when she talked about the horrible things she had encountered, as well as the good. Her imitations of the eerie mechanical voices of the Daleks or the Cybermen--unfamiliar to me still, men made out of metal--were incongruous with the brilliant sunshine and the languorous scent of chamomile coming from the flower beds around us. I shivered, even in the oppressive warmth.
Author: Icepixie
Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 4248
Author's summary: Charley comes back to Earth. Cecilia Pollard reports. [Spoilers through "Neverland." Eight/Charley, but not excessively so.]
Characters/Pairings: Charley Pollard, Eighth Doctor, other characters
Warnings: none
Recced because: This is a lovely audio-based fic told by an engaging narrator. When Charley went off to travel with the Eighth Doctor, she left behind a family that included a younger sister, Cecilia (nicknamed "Sissy"). Six months after being presumed dead, Charley returns home alone. The story, related via Sissy's journal entries, briefly summarizes the time period between Charley's disappearance and return, then goes into more detail after she's back home. The author establishes an evocative, bittersweet tone that feels just right.
My one concern: Sissy appears in a Gallifrey audio, which Icepixie hadn't heard (neither have I!), so her characterization in this story might be very different. But if readers can get past that potential issue, or don't consider it a problem to begin with, I think they'll really enjoy Flowers in Summer.
"I met Shakespeare once," Charley said suddenly, startling me out of the half-sleep I'd slipped into.
"What?" I asked, feeling cotton-headed and stupid.
"He was eight years old. At the time, anyway. There was a woman who wanted to kill him, oddly enough, and then the Daleks got involved..."
Before I knew it, she was off on another tale. I wondered sometimes at the finer details, and particularly at Charley's actions in a few of them, but I still absolutely believed that she had traveled in time and seen all those wonders. I believed her because of the fear in her voice when she talked about the horrible things she had encountered, as well as the good. Her imitations of the eerie mechanical voices of the Daleks or the Cybermen--unfamiliar to me still, men made out of metal--were incongruous with the brilliant sunshine and the languorous scent of chamomile coming from the flower beds around us. I shivered, even in the oppressive warmth.
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