The Doctor

The future held no fears for the old man as he screwed in the final screw.

“Done,” he said to himself, slipping his oddly shaped screwdriver into his inside pocket and opening the door to the tall, blue painted box. “Ohh, it’s quite big, ” he said with a hint of surprise.

Doctor Munroe closed the secure psychiatric ward door quietly as he entered, not wanting to startle the patients and in particular the old man. But the old man heard the faint metallic click.

The old man slowly closed the door and turned to Doctor Munroe. “Finished, Doctor,” the old man said, slapping the side of the box with his hand. He opened the door tentatively, smiled and jumped into the box.

“It won’t work,” Doctor Munroe said. “Better clean up, we’re serving afternoon tea soon.”

The old man’s head popped from behind the door. “It will work. Be back in time for tea. Ohh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask if you mind me borrowing your title?

“My title? What, you mean Doctor?””

“Precisely,” the old man said and disappeared inside the box. The door slammed shut.

Doctor Munroe’s smile was broad, but soon turned to a frown as the blue box let out a low screech, followed by a few higher pitched screeches as the box slowly faded from sight.

Tom Kane © 2017

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