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A trip in the TARDIS'The dark side of the arentol nebulae!' He exclaimed, raising a leg and kicking a lever from the console. The TARDIS shook with giddy anticipation as the doctor twirled on the spot, clumsily dancing as though music was guiding his every motion.
'Or perhaps the Cryogenic Ectoplasm of the nighteenth peninsula!' He chuckled, fixing his bowtie in the reflection of a monitor, revealing a flashing-red warning and glowing with a swirling time vortex. The TARDIS lurched to the left, and I fell back onto a barrier, hands gripping the cold metal, goosebumps from the excited shivers he left me. The doctor was such a brilliant man, mad and distant as he exclaimed the names of fantastic new worlds and interesting species.
'Aha! Paul, John, Ringo and that fourth bloke!' He clapped his hands, releasing the TARDIS console a second too soon. The time machine shook him free of the deck and I gasped, watching the doctor's white socks topple over the gang rail on the other side. There was a shudder, and t
Mona Lisa OverdriveChasing through the underground,
The wind blows through your hair,
As nothing but the sound of death,
Parades from everywhere,
The conga's sound, the trumpets scream,
And nothing else will do,
danger squeals with violins,
And soon, the end comes too,
The mood resists and stops the beat,
Creating tension's burn,
But danger is still thick within,
As the orchestra returns,
And then, from nowhere but the sky,
A choir begins to sing,
And danger turns it's rotten head,
And safety comes back in,
Beautiful danger, the choir starts to rise,
The thrill from the Mona Lisa Overdrive!
The line stood firm, the moment tense,
As marching stopped to form defense.
A hill to claim, our land once more,
We dead men stood, and called for war.
And suddenly, through clouds of rain,
A flash of arrows, all aflame!
We raised our shields, So sung the bards,
As one by one, fell our vanguards.
Our crossbow-men fell in the mud,
Their bows distorted, swollen wood.
Another rain of fire flew down,
And struck our armies to the ground.
Our horsemen charged on up the hill,
As English dogs took aim to kill.
We watched the horde, our God forsake,
As demons came, our souls to take.
Our king, the last of France's best,
Revealed his crown and sent the rest.
We all began, the rain fell hard,
And all of us made peace with God.
The battle was quick, and victory scarce,
As English hounds attacked like bears.
And as my body fell like meat,
I head the vangaurds call retreat...
And as I die, I watch men flee,
Among the dead who lost Crécy.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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