Fanfiction & Doctor Who

Hiya, Folks, as a certain cartoon mouse would say.
You know, I have recently discovered the wealth of Fanfiction that the internet contains. It is actually quite encouraging to note that, no matter how bad my fiction is, there is someone out there who has done worse, and someone who has done better. The thing that I notice as a recurring theme is that many, many people have creative, even brilliant ideas, but their writing doesn't do the idea justice. This isn't to say that all fanfic is of poor quality, but some (I would even dare to say lots) is written by people still developing their writing skills. It's not a bad way to develop them, I suppose. It's pretty risk-free, and enjoyable to work with one's favorite characters. Goodness knows I have made up complex plots that could never function in the actual stories of Star Wars or Harry Potter. Or Both. Whatever I'm obsessed with at the moment, I fanfic, although I rarely write it down.

This is one of the few fanfics that I've written and am actually comfortable sharing. It's from the point of view of Jenny from  The Doctor's Daughter from Doctor Who (I punctuated that incorrectly. Oh well).

 Hi.

My name is Jenny.

I lost my dad a few years ago.

Or rather, he lost me.

It’s complicated.

I’m looking for him now.

Here’s what he looks like, best I can find. <jpg.305>

I could only get security clips.

You see, I’ve got questions.

And they’re kind of important.

Like, about my body. (Not like that, silly.)

I don’t think I’m human.

Well, actually, I’m sure I’m not.

But I don’t know what I am.

And, frankly, I’m scared to tell anyone.

I don’t want to be a lab study.

I’ve never heard of anyone like me.

Except Dad.

He’s alone, too.

He said so.

He also said I could go with him, and he meant it.

I did too.

But then it all went wrong.

He travels a lot, from what I can tell.

There was a woman with him, not my mum.

I don’t have a mum.

Never have.

Anyway, this woman’s name was Donna.

She was ginger.

I get the feeling

Something awful was going to happen to her.

I don’t know why.

Sometimes I just know things.

I don’t even know—

Is this normal?

For people like me?

What are people like me?

How do I even know?

I’m alone.

It hurts.

Please

Help me.

Two words I never refuse