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I ran through the alleys of London. My brown fog-coat and blue suit were torn and bloody with my golden blood. My two hearts pounded in my chest. I needed to get somewhere SAFE. Well, I was the Doctor, almost no-where is safe with me. I stopped and began to pace around, startling a near-by cat out of the alley. I ruffled my brown hair, I was really REALLY aggrivated now. I felt my memories still intact, but the feeling of them, it was just, gone. Gone, right out of the blew! Something happened. Something was trying to get me, I knew that much. Shadows even reached out for me sometimes. Then a huge blue flash and the sound of the TARDIS alerted me. The TARDIS! But, I parked that in the alley near Rose's street. How the hell could it be here?! I ran out. There she was, flying awkwardly in the sky, attemtping to land. Someone was flying my Time Machine! Now I wanted to know what was going on! The blue box smashed into a garbage can and slammed into a sto
I grabbed the lever of the TARDIS. It was going out of control! I had to do something quick, very quick, or I'll die with my Time Machine. I brushed my brown hair out of my eyes. My long trench coat and blue pin-stripe suit were stained with my golden blood and ripped here and there. I spit out some of the blood that was trapped in my lungs. Then suddenly a loud BOOM and a huge crash sent me flying into the wall rather roughly. Ouch, it was quite painful. I rubbed my head, feeling dazed. Everything was quite blurry now as I attempted to get to my feet. Then everything...stopped. I rubbed my head. The TARDIS was on fire, and flying through space! Then it just stopped. I knew I was still in space, but maybe something stopped it..? I got up, using the railing as support. Then, slowly, I approached the TARDIS doors. They swung open. Space. The milky way glowed in the distance, and the lights of stars around me. I leaned against the door-frame. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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