This story was published in the Doctor Who charity anthology Time Scope in 2020.

The boy was running, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He wasn’t aware of anywhere that he needed to be or anything that he was running from, but the reassuring sound of his heavy shoes on the pavement made him feel wonderfully alive. On and on he ran, his breath shallow, the lights of gas lamps in the slowly setting dusk whizzing past him so that he felt like a galloping horse. He took a sharp turn to his right and began to climb the hill towards the allotments. As the sounds of the city fell away behind him, the boy ran on, higher and higher, putting the smog and the grime to the back of his mind, ascending to the stars. He reached the summit of the hill and turned around slowly, breathlessly surveying the sight before him, street after street nestling below a pinkish ceiling, grey, fluffy clouds scudding across the sky on their way to…well, wherever it was that clouds went. He felt small beneath the darkening canvas, unimportant and hidden, yet brave and a little scared at the same time.

A cough from behind him made him jump. He spun around, eyes wide, heart still pounding from his exertions.

‘Hello,’ said a man that he’d never seen before. The boy eyed him warily. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, and he wasted no time in pointing this out.

‘Very sensible,’ the man replied, fishing in the pockets of his tweed jacket before producing a slim, leather wallet and holding it up for the boy to peruse. “I’m Doctor John Smith. Minister of Agricultural-ness or something like that. Intergalactic Vegetable Inspector. And fruit. And vegetable fruits. Although they’re probably not a thing yet. Difficult to keep up to be honest.’

The boy looked at the wallet in the way that he thought he would if he were a grown up. He blinked, and the paper was gone, replaced instead with a long, brass tube that he recognised as a telescope.

‘There,’ the man continued, casually adjusting his bow tie. ‘We’re not strangers now. And I’m guessing you’re not responsible for any of the allotments up here? There’s a marrow the size of a Tassalian Quag Beast that’s giving me cause for concern…’

His voice died away as the boy frowned.

‘I only came up here to look at the stars.’

Doctor John Smith smiled.

‘And what a night you’ve picked!’ He exclaimed, whirling around, his gangly arms outstretched. ’There’s a firestorm in the Arcturian Quadrant happening right now…and if I’m very clever, I might just be able to pick it up on this old thing.’

He brandished the telescope as if to emphasise his point.

‘Have you ever seen the stars up close?’ He asked, awe and excitement in his voice as he looked up into the sky.

’Never,’ the boy replied. ‘We can’t afford a telescope, even like the one you’re using.’

‘Well then, tonight’s your lucky night. Ah, there you are, you little beauty.’

Doctor John Smith crouched down next to the boy and passed him the telescope.

‘Imagine the most wonderful thing you could ever see. No matter how unbelievable or ridiculous. Imagine it. Close your eyes. And then look out at the stars.’

The boy closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to take over. Excitement prickled at his skin, giving him goosebumps and a peculiar rumbling in his stomach. He slowly raised the telescope up to his eyes and gazed through the lens, the brass cylinder cold against his skin. He saw darkness, dotted by tiny pinpricks of light, flickering into existence. At the periphery of his senses, he thought that he could hear a strange buzzing sound. And then it happened.

Bursting forth, out of a royal blue backdrop, colours blossomed. Brilliant yellows that swirled and danced to a silent tune. Orange that flowed like paint, dragged across the night sky by an invisible brush, leaving splatters and spots in its wake. Purples, pinks and the purest green exploding into life like the rarest of birds, floating above the world and through his mind. Colours that had no names, spawning and spreading like ink on water, each new arrival bringing hope and mystery and wonder. Gradually, the colours began to fade, but the boy watched on, reluctant to let go of such fragile beauty. When the sky was dark once more, he lowered the telescope and looked at the man. A single tear trickled down the boy’s face.

‘Is that what love feels like?’ He asked. ‘Because I think I’m in love with the stars.’

The man sat down on the damp grass, motioning for the boy to follow suit. He complied.

‘That’s just one of the wonders of the Universe. There’s so much more to see out there.’

‘I want to see it all,’ the boy replied, hungry for knowledge, for seductive fascination.

‘I don’t think anyone can see it all. Not even me. But you will see more than you think you will. One day. You just have to be patient. And kind. Always be kind. Be a good man.’

The boy sighed, crestfallen. To have seen such wonder and then return to normality…

‘But what if I forget?’

‘Two things. Firstly, close your eyes again and picture as much of what you’ve just seen in your memory.’

They boy did as he was asked, screwing his eyes tightly shut and wishing with all his might. He felt Doctor John Smith tap out a rhythm of four beats gently on his head and his memories coursed through his body, warming him, igniting something within him. He was in love with the stars.’

‘What was the other thing?’ The boy asked.

Doctor Smith nodded and handed him the telescope.

‘Keep this. One day, when you’re a man and you’ve seen the things that the bravest and wisest of men see, it will grow with you. It will become bigger…better. It will take you closer to the stars.’

The boy boggled, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. He leapt to his feet, wanting to run once more, to feel as though he was flying among the stars.

‘Thank you!’ He whispered. ‘I’ll treasure it, always.’

And he was off, sprinting back down the hill, faster than a speeding comet, his heart sparkling like the most distant of stars, memories of their meeting fading as he ran. By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, he would no longer remember Doctor John Smith.

The Doctor got to his feet and watched the boy go, a smile on his face. He raised his right hand in a casual salute.

‘Travel well, Wilfred Mott. Treasure the stars. Always.’