Palestone Manor - The Master Appears

As you go about your day, cleaning, working, you think you hear something. A whisp of noise. The faintest of sound. You turn your head to look, and indeed you spot it.

Standing near a tall arched window. Bathed in the light of the night. His arms crossed, and his long white robe draped against his lean, pale frame, accented by patterns of black down the centre. It's The Master, no doubt. He strikes you as a serious figure, with an unflinching and indescribable expression. A man in his early 30s.

You blink.

And the moment you do, he's gone. As if he was never there at all. But you're sure you saw him. Because the presence he instilled in that moment was like none other.