a Tardis still growing

July 3, 2009 at 7:42 am (ETC Adventures (Doctor... Who?), original poetry/prose, the Muse sings)

The Banshee paces, her shoes echoing hollowly across the intricately carved wood floor, her hair and skirts swishing darkly.  All around her are walls of twisted wood, with the occasional little waterfall of green leafy vines.  The light is strange: very bright, unnatural, shifting.  If you hold very still, you can hear, under the electric hum of the console in the other room, the faint, slow creaking sound of the wood, indeed the tree that you are inside, growing.

She seems delighted and disturbed, moving from one wall – laying her hand on it – then moving to an opposite wall, and exclaiming as she looks up at how tall it’s got.  You step off the old persian carpet, and your footfall is heard; she stiffens, then turns, with agonizing slowness, to look at you.  For a moment, her eyes! but no, it must have been a reflection of the strange light.

She smiles, slow, and you wonder if perhaps you shouldn’t have wandered in here…

Well hallo there… what a terrible time for me to leave the door open, mm?  Now you can be shocked with me, at how much more… space… the tree of my Tardis has grown.  Stretching herself, pushing herself further out into the infinity of the void… I suppose she must be feeding now on the light, the energy out there… see it?  The first time I saw that light, untempered, it near drove me mad with fright.  But now, seeing it through this growing treeglass and leaves… it’s quite pretty, don’t you think?

Oh… oh, are you mortal?  Dear dear, perhaps you’d best not look.  That out there is the Schism, the vortex of Time and Space, and it’s really not conducive to a restful psyche… there, yes, best to look at me.

She smiles reassuringly… and you find yourself reassured.  No, this is no dangerous place, you think.  At least… you think you are thinking…

“I have taught my Tardis to grow… but will she listen to me when I ask her to stop?”

The Banshee walks down the hallway, fingers trailing along the wooden wall, as if stroking a cat.  She comes to a low wall and a staircase spiralling down, and stands there with you, pointing beyond, to the… window?… in the near distance.  It seems to be glass, twisting like the wood, in a multicolored floral pattern.  Beyond the glass, you can just make out more of the strange shifting view: like a multitude of stars streaming from blue to red shift and back again, like cosmic energies dancing.  Even at this distance, even through the thick glass, it feels unnatural, or a part of Nature not meant for mortal eyes.

See?  She grew me a window.  A window in a Tardis, who ever heard of such a thing!  I do actually like to look out it but… I like looking at dangerous things.

She focuses on the glass for a few moments, and it darkens just slightly.  She frowns a bit, clearly not satisfied with the result.  Then, she looks down…

And down there, it is even stranger.  Darker, and the floor is a soft moss.  I do like it but… I like it too much.  It is too perfect, can you believe?  Water, even, a little pool.  But so like what I’ve wished for… somehow it makes me suspicious.  No, I’ll not bring you down there today, not until I’m sure the fish are safe.

She beckons, and you follow her back into the console room.  She stops suddenly, and looks down, focusing on one long root that has quested up through the floor, and now curls just at the edge of the console platform.

The Banshee looks at you, tense, eyes sharp.

Oh dear, dear.  Was that here when you walked in?!



  1. Edward Pearse said,

    Wonderful pictures! I shall have to clean my Tardis up and post some of my own soon.

  2. DarklingRose said,

    Thankyeh, Sir Edward! Oh, do … I’d love to see em.

    Though alas the pictures will not capture the “tick..tick..tick..tick..tick…”


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