Chapter 1: Self Fulfilling (Diaries and Prophecies)

-February 11, 2014 7:36 a.m Paris, France-

The Doctor skimmed the paper. "I'm not sure I understand," he turned back and handed it to Clara, who looked it over the same way that he had.

"It's blank," She noted. "What's so special about a blank page of paper?"

"Precisely what I was wondering," he snatched it back and flipped the empty paper over three times. "What's wrong with it?" he looked up at his wife. "It hasn't got any writing, no picture, it's not psychic in any way, and it isn't particularly menacing, it's not even mauve!" he threw it up in the air in frustration. "Why did you call me here? I hope it wasn't just for the view"

"It wasn't blank when I called you," River wore the same cool smile that she usually had on. "But it was blank when I found it,"

"So you've been writing on it?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow in question. "And erasing it?" He plucked the parchment up off the ground where it had landed before. 'Now that can't be right' he thought to himself. 'Even if she had erased it, there would be marks, there are always marks, so how can this paper be a clean slate, like it's never been touched?" As if on cue, words started appearing on the paper in ink, as if there was someone invisible writing them there. The paragraph started with the date, like a diary entry, "February 11th" The Doctor murmured. Not that that piece of information would be of much use to him, it could be any February 11th, it could be February 11th of three thousand years in the future, or from six billions years ago in a far away galaxy, or it could be from that very February 11th that they were in, of 2014, maybe just a magical or special paper linked up with a girl's diary in Wyoming.

"It keeps doing that," River explained. "Every night at midnight it resets, the page goes blank, until 7:38 a.m. when somebody starts writing. It's never anything different, same thing every day, February 11th, time and time again, like they keep writing the same entry over and over, like they're stuck on repeat,"

Clara intervened, "But that's not possible,"

"No," The Doctor murmured as he read the page again. "It isn't, is it?" skimming the paragraph his eyes picked out a few key words 'Time Lord', 'Time lock," and 'Escape,' noticed in that order alarmed him slightly. He quickly read over the rest of the paper and was relieved to find out that whoever was writing had no intentions of leaving where they were. "And it'll disappear at midnight?" He looked up. River simply nodded. "Well until then," He turned toward River, then Clara, "France is a lot more interesting during the middle ages,"

-February 11, 2014 11:58 p.m. Paris, France-

"So when does it go blank?" Clara asked, leaning closer to the paper. 'Maybe if I catch him off guard later I'll have a chance of grabbing that stupid beret off his head.'

"I'm not sure," The Doctor glanced at his watch, then directed his attention back to the problem at hand; the clock had struck midnight, but the paper was the same. Something wasn't right.

-February 12, 2014 7:36 a.m Paris, France-

"Doctor!" Clara woke him with a start. "There's more writing on the paper now!"

He left down the hall to meet with his companion. She frowned at him "Did you stop to pick up the beret?"

"Of course," The Doctor adjusted his hat slightly. "Berets are cool," Clara sighed her temporary defeat and handed him the diary page, there was another entry:

February 11th

-End-