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Doctor Who: The Sands of Time

The woman was still alive as unnatural thunder cracked across the sky. The lightning forked through the thrashing rain, stabbing at the desert sand. Rain splashed across the dunes, running down the bank towards the entrance of the tomb, washing over stone that had been parched for a thousand years. She was hardly more than a girl, her eyes betraying her fear as she shivered in the warm rain. The priests stood either side of her, holding her arms out from her body. Their heads were lowered - perhaps in shame, perhaps in an effort to keep them dry | Doctor Who The Sands of Time Richards Justin Published 1996 Categorie s Fiction Science Fiction Time travel Source http www.bbc.co.uk cult doctorwho ebooks sandsoftime index.shtml 1 About Richards Justin Richards is a British writer. He has written many spin off novels based on the BBC science fiction television series Doctor Who and he is Creative Director for the BBC Books range. He has also written for television contributing to Five s soap opera Family Affairs. He is also the author of a series of crime novels for children about the Invisible Detective and novels for older children. His Doctor Who novel The Burning was placed sixth in the Top 10 of SFX magazine s Best SF Fantasy novelisation or TV tie-in novel category of 2000. Source Wikipedia Copyright Please read the legal notice included in this e-book and or check the copyright status in your country. Note This book is brought to you by Feedbooks http www.feedbooks.com Strictly for personal use do not use this file for commercial purposes. 2 Ancient Egypt - c5000BC The woman was still alive as unnatural thunder cracked across the sky. The lightning forked through the thrashing rain stabbing at the desert sand. Rain splashed across the dunes running down the bank towards the entrance of the tomb washing over stone that had been parched for a thousand years. She was hardly more than a girl her eyes betraying her fear as she shivered in the warm rain. The priests stood either side of her holding her arms out from her body. Their heads were lowered - perhaps in shame perhaps in an effort to keep them dry. She screamed as the spirit she hosted was split ruptured and ripped from her mind. She collapsed to her knees held up only by the grip of the priests. Damp sand gritted into the white cotton of her dress. The muscles in her neck tightened with the pain and her cries echoed through the night blotting out the thunder. But she was still alive. The gods watched from the ridge silent and still. The rain running .