Creative Writing Collection

Weary, Woody Traveler

Traveling has always been a part of my life. Whether it was moving to another state or country, changing galaxies, or simply taking a walk around the block. The thrill of knowing there was more to the world drove me to seek out new things, new challenges. And I would always find them. Not alone, might I add.

       I have the Doctor on my side.

       Most of the time, I would be doing all the work; rerouting new paths and finding new rifts or links to new worlds. He has grown old with me, but I still see the child in him, the flame in his hearts pushing him forth. I am the quiet, undermined servant, doing her work though protective and lethal when the time came.

       I am the TARDIS.

       Time And Relative Dimension In Space.

       Tee-Ey-Arr-Dee-Aye-Ess.

       TARDIS.

       The small-on-the-outside-but-bigger-on-the-inside blue police box that whirrs throughout time and space, happily carrying all and any passengers that may come. They’re mainly the Doctor’s friends, a gaggle of admirers that eventually fade away. All of them. They come. They travel. They leave. An unfortunate truth. Only once had I ever taken human form, the freedom of legs to move where I please at my own will and conscious.

       That form is gone now.

       But I’m still able to see it all. I may be but a blue police box at rest, but the Doctor and I are connected. He feels what I feel, and vice versa. I see what he sees. And it’s all perfectly, wonderfully broken. Not really broken and shattered, but unfinished. Their struggling and hurt is alleviated by the man I shelter, and their suffering turns into a beautiful peace.

       Then we’re off again.

       The planets and galaxies and the universe…

       We are ready to experience it all.