The Christmas Spirits


Through door after door
I was ceaselessly led
‘Til the Doctor suggested
I hop on the bed

In a sterile room,
Lit with amber and gold.
I lay down reluctantly.
Would I be told

That I was some alien child
Cast away?
I waited to see
What the Doctor would say.

“Our friends underground,”
He informed me instead,
“Are certainly alien;
Nothing undead

Or grotesque is at work,
They’re simply dark matter…”
I stopped him before
He continued his chatter.

“What’s that?” I demanded,
And why’s it transparent?”
“It sits out of phase,
I’d have thought that apparent,”

The Doctor replied.
“It surrounds us, inert,
But you can’t see or touch it,
So it doesn’t hurt.”

“And the creature that hunts me
Is made of that stuff?
It certainly seems like it’s
Solid enough!”

“That spaceship is stuck
Between their plane and ours,
But they’re pulled here each year
For a couple of hours.”

The amber lights changed
To a pale blue glow.
“All done! Won’t take more
Than a century or so

To examine your scans.”
He caught my expression.
“That’s my time, not yours,
There’s no need for depression.

I’ll drop you back home
First thing on Christmas Day.
You won’t have to deal with
The creatures that way.”

And as good as his word
I returned home to catch
Mum guiltily sneaking
Her key in the latch.

But sleep never came
And I lay there instead,
Thoughts of dark matter
Monsters alive in my head.

About Taskbaarchitect

Game Designer and Writer.
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