Last Judgement

Entry 00.

It was a typical chilly Autumn day, when the skies were painted a muted gray and the naked tree branches quivered at the mercy of the wind. From the Doctor's desk, he could see the street beyond his window, lined with brooding brick buildings and paved concrete sidewalks. Across the street was his favorite bakery run by an old family friend. Every morning, the Doctor would sit there with a blueberry crumpet and a cup of tea, preparing himself for the busy day ahead.

He was familiar with this scenery, for he had opened this clinic fresh out of school and borrowed quite the sum to pay the mortgage. The clinic was his everything; the epitome of his passions and represented his desire to help his community.

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor glances at the grandfather clock that stood guard by his door. The hands currently read a quarter 'til five, the pendulum marching steadily and not missing a beat. It was about time for the clinic to close, but the Doctor was still waiting for his last patient. He pinched his nose bridge, massaging the soreness out. As he was wiping the lenses of his glasses with the edge of his coat, there came three crisp knocks at his door.

"Come in." the Doctor calls, slipping the spectacles back onto his pale face.

He watches as a young man enters the room. Immediately, the Doctor senses something odd about this patient. He was a man in his early twenties, with well-groomed hair and a decorous sense of style. There was nothing uncanny about the youthful spring in his steps and the listless arrogance reflected by his subtle smirk, but the Doctor could not help but feel skittish. The male's eyes held an air of languid intensity, resembling haunting green flames that sent chills down the Doctor's spine.

"Thank you for having me, Doctor Windersen." his guest spoke with a sly smile. Noticing the way the ends of his lips curled while pronouncing the Doctor's name unconsciously forced the Doctor to hesitate.

Realizing that he was just staring at an outstretched hand, the Doctor immediately composed himself. Adjusting his tie to ease his nerves, he rises from his seat and reaches out to take the young man's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Clyde." the Doctor answered, returning a warm grin. "I have been expecting you. Please, take a seat."

He gestured to the chaise at the center of the room. "Rest assured that anything you tell me here today will stay strictly confidential. I am here to help you, so please tell me what's on your mind."

The young man who has been identified as Clyde took the lead and sat down. "Thank you Doctor."

The Doctor occupied an armchair opposite of the patient and crossed his legs. After running over some procedures, he invited Clyde to begin talking.

"I've never told anyone about this before." he starts, clenched fists resting in his lap. Seeing how his face tensed up as he tried to shape his sentence, the Doctor understood this was a difficult topic for him.

"Do not worry, I'm listening. Take your time."

Clyde takes a deep breath and apologizes with a sheepish smile. He reaches a gloved hand into his breast pocket and pulls out what appears to be a journal.

"This," Clyde says, "is my precious treasure."

He gently places it down on the glass coffee table separating him and the Doctor. "Do you know who this belongs to?"

With a curious tilt of his head, the Doctor studies the worn-out leather cover of the book. It looked oddly familiar yet he could not put a finger on where he had seen it before.

"No, I don't believe I know. Does this belong to you?"

Hearing these words, a ghostly simper seizes Clyde's lips.

"Not exactly." he taps the cover with a single index finger. "I'm sure you are familiar with the owner. Do you really not remember?"

The Doctor glances at the grandfather clock. This was his last session before he could go home, so he was naturally feeling a little impatient. Calming himself, he returned his gaze to the dark-haired man.

"I'm sorry but I have no recollection of such a journal."

Clyde's testing smile faded. With a heavy, disappointed sigh, he leaned back in his seat.

"It's alright. I don't expect you to remember such... trivial things."

The Doctor cocked a brow at his remark.

"You see, I've never been the most emotionally involved kid." Clyde placed a hand on his chest. His emerald hues lowered to the ground, highlighting his long eyelashes which cast shadows over his chiseled cheeks. He continued, "Nothing really excited me. But, it was when I found this diary that I learned how it feels to be alive."

"This diary must be from someone really special." the Doctor deduced.

"Indeed it is." Clyde smiles gently, staring longingly at the book. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly, and faded as quickly as it appeared. If you blinked, you would have missed it.

"She was a really good person, just victim to an unfortunate life." a remorseful sigh escaped the young man's lips. "Doctor, would you mind listening to her story?

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A/N: Ooo two mysterious characters right off the bat-- Tell me what you guys think^^ Thanks for reading~