The Advent of Fear, Part Two. By Mark B. Oliver.
'Thanks for that,' breathed the Doctor appreciatively. They scrambled under the table as the flames renewed their assault, striking blow after blow onto the tabletop above.
'It's not going to protect us for long,' whispered Beth.
The Doctor was adjusting his sonic screwdriver and telling her to remain where she was; he rolled out from under the table and bounded to his feet. Reacting to the movement, the chandelier flew towards him. The Doctor aimed the sonic screwdriver directly at the approaching flames and activated it.
Nothing happened.
The circle of fire sliced towards the Doctor. Beth unthinkingly dug her palms into the floor, pushing herself away from the inevitable collision but at the last moment the whine from the sonic screwdriver increased by an octave and the chandelier was halted, seemingly fighting with the device for control. A look of fierce concentration on his face, the Doctor intensified the sonic emissions. And then it was over. The flames tripled in size for a dangerous, terrifying moment before the chandelier stopped spinning and crashed to the ground.
'Come on!' shouted the Doctor to Beth.
They raced towards the door but Beth put her hand on the Doctor's arm, bringing him to a halt. It had taken them a moment to register the noise but they could both hear tiny whispers echoing around them, numerous voices talking disjointedly, a baby wailing.
'The trap is closing, reality is breaking through. Those are the voices of the people that live here. We're nearly out of time, Beth. I need your help. Are you any good with a... Come on, I'll explain through here...'
He stood waiting for them as they entered the living room which was flooded with daylight. The Doctor moved towards the frames, the blue electricity more intense now. The pale alien stared coldly at them, seemingly unconcerned by their presence. The Doctor reached for Beth's advent calendar. The whispers were growing louder and louder reaching a crescendo of deafening volume. Beth nodded her understanding and the Doctor snatched up Beth's calendar. Energy surged through him and the Doctor was thrown across the room.
As the alien watched him crash into the wall and slump motionless to the floor, Beth seized her chance. She quickly took the sinister being's photograph with the camera she had been concealing behind her back. Instantly he vanished. Beth knelt beside the Doctor who had propped his back against the wall. He was winded but otherwise unhurt. Every window of her frame was now open revealing twenty four identical photographs of the alien. The photo she had just taken. Slowly the images of the alien dissolved revealing the photographs of her family beneath. The photos of the eerie room and the Doctor had vanished, too, replaced by more innocent pictures.
'It's over,' said the Doctor quietly as Beth helped him to stand. The whispers were gone too, replaced by the sounds of a busy household. 'We'd better be off before we're noticed. I think we'll find they'll be able to see us now.'
'How did you know that taking a photograph of the alien would trap him instead of us?' asked Beth, as they crossed the lawn a short time later.
'Some humans believe that taking someone's photograph steals their soul. The alien was using technology that worked on a similar principle and we used that knowledge against him.'
'And you had a camera the entire time...'
'Oh, well you know how it is. You pick things up, put them in your pockets and forget they're even there till you need them. Now, it's time we got you home, Beth Summers, before your gran starts to worry.'
'I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime!' she replied as the Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door. As Beth stepped inside, he smiled as she gasped loudly from within. He followed her into his ship and hesitated before closing the door, glancing across the lawn at the imposing Victorian house. For a second the Doctor thought he saw a pale figure watching him from the other side of the garden. He gently closed the door and moments later the TARDIS dematerialized, observed by the solitary watcher from a distance, before he too disappeared into the morning air.
