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• reviews The original BBC program Doctor Who began airing in 1963, and continued into 1989, making it the longest running sci-fi program, and indeed one of the longest of any genre in TV history. An unsuccessful attempt was made by Fox to revive it in 1996. BBC tried again in 2005, and this attempt proved successful. The program follows the adventures of a Timelord, one of a race of humanoid alien beings from the planet Galifrey. His/her name has never been revealed--he/she is known only as "The Doctor". He/she travels through time and space in a "Tardis", which stands for "Time And Relative Dimensions In Space". It is much bigger inside than outside. In his/her travels, he encounters various monsters such as the Daleks, the Cybermen, and a renegade Timelord known only as The Master (or Missy as timelords can change gender too). Several different actors have starred as the Doctor over the years. This is explained in the storyline as "regeneration". When the Doctor faces death, he/she cheats it by literally becoming a new person. The supporting cast also changes periodically
• Actor Jodie Whittaker
• UK
• writed by Sydney Newman
• Sci-Fi, Family

 

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Doctor who wallpaper. Doctor who the master. () The so-called textbooks: () „2015-2017 között – a kormányzati hátszél ellenére – valamennyi állami kiadású (OFI-s: eredetileg Apáczai, Nemzedékek Tudása Tankönyvkiadó) tankönyv megrendelési aránya kimutathatóan visszaesett, miközben a magánkiadók tankönyveinek aránya egyértelműen növekedett. A tanítók fele 2017-re elpártolt az OFI-s tankönyvektől. ” Uniós milliárdokat költött a kétes minőségű állami tankönyvek fejlesztésére a kormány, a magánkiadókat meg elsorvasztják Dupcsik Csaba–Repárszky Ildikó: „Régi vackok”, új vackok - Kritikai megjegyzések a Kísérleti Tankönyvek Történelem 9. c. kötetéről és a hozzá kapcsolódó digitális tananyagról Repárszky is an excellent teacher good old Németh György, oppardon, Németh „doktorprofesszor” György, Németh „elöl-hátul doktor”György, Prof. Prof. Dr. Németh György - lol Törikönyvek légüres térben „Soha többé nem akarok tankönyvet írni” - a szerző sem elégedett a kísérleti kiadványokkal „hányasra értékelné a tankönyvfejlesztők munkájának végeredményét a kritikák tükrében, Nényei úgy válaszolt: nem tudja, milyen osztályzatot adna, de »szerinte nem lettek jók«. ” Konferencia az OFI-tankönyvekről - Összefoglaló A TTE Tankönyvelemző Műhelyének részletes kritikája Pálffy Géza: „Nekem az a feladatom, hogy a tudománnyal foglalkozzam, de amikor, mondjuk, a történelemtankönyvet lektoráltam, és kiderült, hogy egy hónap alatt készült a hatodikos tankönyv, akkor annyit tudtam tenni, hogy megírtam a szigorú lektori véleményt, és miután szinte semmit nem javítottak ki benne, úgy döntöttem, hogy nem adom a nevem hozzá. Ezt tényleg nem hoztam nyilvánosságra, és lehet, hogy az lett volna a helyes megoldás. ” (Pálffy Géza: „Magam ugyanakkor elvártam volna, hogy tizenöt köztudottan konzervatív, nagy befolyású tudós is megszólaljon az MTA védelmében. Tehát hogy ne csak Pálffy Géza szólaljon meg, hanem nálam sokkal tekintélyesebb és befolyásosabb, közismerten jobboldali kötődésű tudósok, akár intézményvezetők, álljanak ki, mert annak lett volna súlya. A Lendület kutatócsoportok vezetőinek levelére is válaszolt a miniszterelnök úr. Ha egy tucatnyi nagy tekintélyű jobboldali kötődésű tudós is írt volna a miniszterelnöknek egy nyílt levelet, lehet, hogy arra másként és érdemben reagált volna. ” - lol)
https://tinyuid.com/6ye02V

I thought nothing could kill Dr. Who, but apparently I was wrong. Bad writing can, and did. br> First, let me say two things that writers/producers/directors seem not to understand:
#1 - People do not watch television to have moral lessons shoved down their throats. They watch television to be entertained. Moral lessons are (typically) not entertaining.
#2 - Never, ever trade good writing for special effects. You will always end up in the red. Nobody cares if there's a superbly-crafted monster shown on the screen if the plot doesn't make sense.
Now, let me cover why (in addition to these two points) why this season went horribly, horribly wrong.
First, let me say that it isn't a problem that Dr. Who is female. Or, rather, it didn't HAVE to be a problem. The writers (and wardrobe department) made it one by not dealing with that shift properly.
1. WARDROBE
Dr. Who is an absent-minded, eccentric genius. The suits that previous incarnations of Dr. Who would wear would give him an air of respectability while he was making a fool of himself on his way to ingeniously solving some complex problem. This incarnation of Dr. Who looks like she stole the clothing of a gender-fluid toddler. It doesn't give her any air of respectability, so she ends up looking ditzy, crazy, or ridiculous. The very obviously bleached hair doesn't help because it goes against Dr. Who's very long history of not caring much about appearances (and when Dr. Who has cared, the fashion choices were more geeky/dorky, not superficial.
2. PREACH, PREACH, PREACH
I watched years worth of Dr. Who and never - EVER - have there been so many moral lessons shoved in my face. Typically, there is a good balance of: a) random adventures, b) the occasional horror episode, c) races that were interacted with in the past come to continue the story line, d) an old acquaintance of Dr. Who asking for help (so we get to learn a bit more about Dr. Who, who is a bit of a mystery) and (e) some well-crafted moral lesson. This season is completely imbalanced. Every episode is some social justice lesson and it's not entertaining. Beyond the irritating condescension, it is incredibly presumptuous. Even if I did manage to make it to my age without any knowledge of morals, quite possibly the last place I'd look to educate myself on how to be a moral person would be television. Not only isn't television a trustworthy source, it's also not the point of television: ENTERTAINMENT is. If I were watching Mr. Rogers or Sesame Street, that would be one thing. But, this is Dr. Who. Come on!
3. POOR EXECUTION
Dr. Who doesn't like guns. This is established. Dr. Who gets ANGRY when people are killed. This anger is driven by empathy, but also by having seen too many people die and being fed up with it. Having this Dr. Who play that anger off as mopey (as in the witch-related episode) is weak and pathetic and shows no conviction. This is very out of character. I realize that anger can be harder for a female character to play without seeming hawkish, but deal with it. This is Dr. Who's established personality. You can't just change who Dr. Who is as a character. This is something that even stayed the same through previous male incarnations, so biological differences didn't make a difference. You need to keep the continuity. Write it better, act it better.
4. TOO MANY PEOPLE
Another huge mistake was adding so many sidekicks. Imagine the episode duration as a pie. More people? Smaller slices. BAD plan. We're hungry. We want a generous slice of Dr. Who - not fifteen or fewer minutes, with the rest of the time dedicated to humans and their personal problems. Dr. Who is a Time Lord. We're still unfolding all of what that means and trying to learn more about Dr. Who's past. There are so many species out there, so many unexplored worlds. But, here you are filling up our time with the problems of a few human characters. If we wanted that, we could've watched another show! ANY other show. The point of this one is to see all of time and space - which (believe it or not) does not revolve around a few humans.
5. IDENTITY CRISIS. br> The whole "I don't know myself. I'm lost, bit was taken way, way too far. Yes, we get it, it's disorienting being reconstructed from scratch in a new body and having to reorder hundreds of years worth of memories. But, having a female Dr. Who in the midst of an identity crisis is more the plot for a Lifetime movie than an action/adventure sci-fi series. It makes Dr. Who seem neurotic. This incarnation could've been made a bit more serious to compensate for the difference in sex stereotypes and norms. That would've kept Dr. Who's personality and personal strength more intact. But, as is, it's a mess. You turned Dr. Who female and didn't do enough to compensate for it and now female Dr. Who seems weak, pathetic, mopey, and ditzy. What a total disappointment! And, I say that as a woman, myself.) It didn't have to be this way.
6. BAD WRITING
The writing for this season (11th) is absolutely horrendous. Have any of these writers ever actually watched Dr. Who? Do they know what the word "continuity" means? How about "character" or "established personality" It doesn't seem like it. It seems like you recruited people on to write for this show who didn't give a toss about the personality of Dr. Who, the continuity of that character, and the balance of themes that previously existed in the series. Get people working for this series that actually care about keeping it as good as it WAS (I say "was" because this season is the worst I've ever seen. Not only is the character of Dr. Who being slowly dismantled over the course of this season, the overarching themes are imbalanced, and nothing about this series which drew me to it to begin with has been left intact. Find a crazy, obsessed fan that can recite lines from various episodes by heart. Then, hire this person as a consultant (they'd probably work for free just to be part of the production, so you might not even have to pay them. Make sure you actually LISTEN to this person when it comes to wardrobe, character, and plot lines. If you did that, maybe you'd actually have a chance of recovering from this train wreck of a season. To be clear, it's not bad because Dr. Who is female. It's bad because your writers don't know what they're doing and your lead actress is either not being properly instructed on how to play off certain personality traits (see the previous note about anger over people getting killed) or she doesn't have the acting ability. Either way, this isn't a problem with Dr. Who's sex. It's a problem with other people not doing their jobs sufficiently. Please fix it, otherwise you will not only have ruined an incredible series, but you will have ruined it with a woman (which, given your seeming obsession with moral lessons, would probably be a big no-no.
Doctor who speech.
Madam Raven was kind enough to read this work on her channel - it is more suited to her format - she has been a guest voice for Dr. Creepen, so I knew she would do it justice and she did - it's a slow burner and honestly was not creepy enough for this channel - Herr Doktor Creepen Van Pasta rules! Second Half * * * * * * I ended up going to the local box hardware store to look at outdoor lighting kits and alarm systems. I took Ellie with me and Will stayed home with Karen. I picked up a couple of lights with motion sensors for the two back corners of the fence. Alarms were pretty nice these days but I thought a dog would be better and no more expensive than the monitoring fees. Ellie enjoyed the outing. We stopped for a lunch date at a local diner. We talked about the new house and what she liked and didn’t like about it; no surprises. She picked out a couple of pralines at the counter. She and Will were allowed one junk food treat per week. Dad came over to “supervise” the project. Ellie, “assisted” by being the tool finder. For her age, she was great at picking out tools as I requested them. In less time than I’d imagined possible, we were done, it had taken only, well, almost all day. Karen puffed out a sound like a drum roll and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. Then I remembered, ‘motion sensor’. I walked through the back yard and then there was light! Great, one less thing on my list and surely the lights would keep our family safe from prowlers and thieves? Maybe. That evening, we broke out the pralines. Ellie finished about half of hers, Will took one bite and spat out the sweet, gooey confection. I had an inspiration and took the crumbs and spread a small share at the base of each gnome statue. Maybe the interwebs had been right… When we tucked in the kids that night, I checked the windows to ensure that they were closed and locked. We each checked the doors and put the little bar across the sliding door on the back patio. Flimsy but it would, I hoped, cause noise and hopefully deter any but the most determined burglar. We turned on the patio light and flipped the switch for the back fence motion sensor lights. Saturday night and another attack of the sleeping heebie jeebies: The nightmare started the same way, coldness, the dead cat, the spiky tree dancers, the gnomes, the cats, the YOWL! Then I saw that the spiky creatures had hold of each of my family members and each was crying for help. They were muffled cries, dream sequence noises, then I saw that the nearest monster had hold of Ellie and dangled her over the space under Tom Salem’s tree limb. It held her by her hair and grinned evilly at me, then Ellie screamed and the nightmare turned to pure darkness, then my eyes snapped open. It was a real scream, from Ellie’s room! I scrambled out of bed and snatched up the bat, then tore down the hallway to her room. I rushed in and there she was, curled up against her headboard, clutching a small stuffed toy. She was pale and stared in horror at the window. I looked and saw to my own horror that it was slightly opened. The curtains billowed. I rushed to the window and peered out into the now well-lit back yard. The sensor lights had worked. I saw a face look back at me just before it disappeared over the back fence. The face was on the other side of the fence and the lights were focused into the yard, so I could still not make out features; just a pointed hat and a scruffy, hairy face, then nothing. I wanted to go out and hop the back fence and chase down this turd but I had to stay and comfort our little girl. Karen had gone to the next room to scoop up Will. Ellie had screamed loudly enough to disturb even him, zonked or not. They all piled together in our bed while I went to the door to speak to the police when they arrived. I had plenty of time to put on some clothes before they knocked. Big belly was back, followed quickly by a younger, earnest-looking officer. They were nice enough, took my statement, asked a few questions, complemented the light system and my speed in installing it, blah, blah, blah. They once again assured me that they would step up their patrols in Amblewood. Honestly, that was about all they could do. The earnest officer looked for footprints around Ellie’s window and looked for scuffs on the back fence. There were enough traces to show that someone had been there but no real evidence. He looked around at the garden gnomes. “You say the intruder had a beard and wore a pointy hat? ” He raised his eyebrows, wearing the ghost of a smile. “Yes but he was, taller and more animated. ” His smile melted into a genuinely friendly expression. I was sure they had better things to do on a Saturday night than to comfort whiny suburbanites. “I don’t mean to make light of the situation sir”, he quickly assured me. “It’s just… well, no offense but I wouldn’t creep through this back yard with those fellows on guard. ” I smiled back, reassuringly, “Me neither. They belonged to the previous owner. We just haven’t decided what to do with them. ” The big officer shuffled his way toward his cruiser and said over his shoulder, “Good night y’all, have a good one now. ” The younger officer paused for a moment, “If you hear or see anything else, please don’t hesitate to call. Sir, I’m not putting down our service or police in general but remember that when you need help in seconds, the police will be there in minutes. Response time is based on many factors and is always just a reaction. You may want to get ahead of the crooks. By the way, we really will patrol over here as much as possible, please be safe. ” Wow, nice cop. I wasn’t too sure about the husky fellow but the other two officers I’d encountered seemed at least to care, even if they really offered no solutions. I went back inside and told Karen everything and she said that the earnest officer was likely letting us know that we were on our own, at least for any effective actions. I agreed and looked woefully at my bat. I needed something that would reach out and whack the scumbag. Maybe we just needed a dog. Cats and gnomes hadn’t helped! For now, the kids would sleep in our room. Karen and I were more scared for them than they were for themselves. * * * * * * Sunday rolled by like a dream. We spent the day at mom and dad’s, my sister and her husband and kids stopped by for dinner. Toward the end of the day, I stepped out into the back yard to do what I imagined was a security check. Something seemed off, then I realized with a start, the yard was once again immaculate. Huh! Odd. Maybe the interweb posters were more correct than usual. Who’d have thought that gnomes liked pralines. I tried some sleuthing by once again clambering up onto a chair to peer over the back fence. A few indistinct tracks, a couple of small indentations, ladder prints maybe? Dude had carried a ladder? Freak! By the time I’d gone back inside, I’d forgotten about the well-manicured lawn. Karen and I talked and the more I thought about it, the more angry I became. This had to stop. We had some weirdo wanting to do who knows what, lurking around our back yard at night. No easy feat with an eight foot tall fence around it. I was afraid that he might become more determined or maybe change to more effective tactics. I must have had nightmares, I wasn’t sleeping well and got up to check the doors and windows. As I walked through the kitchen, the sensor lights out back activated. I quickly opened the blinds over the sliding glass door. I didn’t immediately see anything, then there was movement by Ellie’s window. I removed the security bar, opened the door and stepped out, ready to beat the tar out of the slimy creep but no one was lurking outside the window or anywhere in the yard. Something had to have set off the lights. Then I heard a faint, “mew”. Lady Gray sat under Ellie’s window, looking perplexed. “Cats! ” I grumbled, then locked up the fort and stumbled back to bed, had to rest before work tomorrow. * * * * * * We made it to the middle of the next week with no more incidents. We kept the cats fed but not too much, we needed them to hunt. They left us, ‘presents’ by the patio door, all sorts of dead creatures or parts thereof. At least one small copperhead, good job cats, you go! I’m really fond of cats … aren’t I? I quietly bought a box of cookies, not the kind that feature the little Elves but the less expensive store brand and stored the box next to the generic cat food; we were on a budget. Even more quietly, I put out one per day per gnome. The yard stayed immaculate and the smiles were present and not quite as sinister? Whatever, sometimes we just have to go with the flow. Wednesday night, we were pretty much back in routine. The kiddos were back in their rooms, no signs of creepy crawlers. The nightmares had never truly left but they had faded on waking, until tonight: The dead kitty took center stage once again. I’d gone through mom and dad’s back gate to bury her but the pitiful little corpse was gone. Probably a buzzard… yet here she was in all her horrific inglory! Disgusting open wounds apparent as she reached for me with bloody and mangled front paws and enormous claws. Her maw gaped and she grew saber-tooth fangs. The spiky, shadow creeps had added a chant to their menacing dance and several carried spears; like they needed them! The gnomes rose on either side of me and rode the living cats like ponies, circling me and then Karen and the kids were with me, tied up at my feet and screaming in fear. Then a gigantic black cone arose, like the gnomes rising from the ground but in front of me. A bearded face and gaping, slavering maw… Uurrrgh!!! I woke suddenly and my side of the bed was soaked in sweat. How does Karen sleep through this? I wondered briefly. I quietly got up, picked up the bat and new long flashlight and went on a patrol; okay, I peed first, never pass up an opportunity… Windows and doors were secure, motion light was activated, door bar secure… What?!!! I looked out the patio doors and around the back yard. It was brightly lit, so something had moved through in the past several minutes. I opened it and stepped outside to look along the edges of the house and to shine the flashlight into the brush… Nothing. “Probably the cats”, I grouched as I closed the sliding glass door. I went in to check the young’uns. Will, you guessed it, zonked. Ellie also looked pretty peaceful. There was something clutched in her arm, likely one of her menagerie of stuffed animals. Crap, did the toy just move?! It did! I thought it might be another nightmare as a fuzzy looking ball rose from the crook of my little girl’s arm, spikes twitched at the top of the ball, then, green glowing eyes popped open and blinked, then slitted ominously… “Mew! ” declared Lady Gray. CATS!!! I screamed internally. Then I noticed that the window was wide open. Ellie must have forgotten to close it when she let in her little friend. Well, that explains the gray and white hairs, mystery solved, Scoob, I thought as I slid shut the window and flipped the lock into place. As I turned to sneak back out of the room, I was distracted as Lady Gray leapt to the foot of the bed. I turned my head at the movement and as a result dodged a large, meat-hook fist that would have knocked me cold. Instead, it just glanced my left ear, stung, and instantly galvanized my adrenaline. I stepped back as a second fist, this one clutching a small knife, thrust at my midsection. A figure in a black hoodie, the peak of the hood standing tall, emerged from the shadows, a bearded face with shiny bits of metal embedded or attached to several areas loomed over me. I backhanded the flashlight across the knife hand and let it drop. That rolling obstacle caused the lurching monster to step back and hiss. Then I gripped my bat and swung for the fences… * * * * * * Isn’t it amazing how great it feels when your family looks at you as a homerun hero? Little kids look to parents that way anyway but it’s nice when we’ve actually done something to warrant that feeling. Like bashing in the head of a sick psycho who wanted to take our baby girl. Leaving the scum to lay on the floor bleeding while you pick up your child and the heroic little furball that has become your new favorite pet and whisk them away to safety. To get to relate the tale to your favorite police officers as they figure out which one gets to ride with the injured prisoner in the ambulance and which gets to go back on patrol. To smirk at the fat cop who showed up late… now sporting corporal stripes… great, figures he’d be the one they promoted. It’s an even greater feeling to get back to normal. It wasn’t easy, the creeper had definitely generated new levels of nightmares. My new buddy, Officer Greene, or “Chuckie” met up with me during our respective lunch breaks and filled me in on the status of the creeper. “Looks like you won’t need to testify after all, he said, dude died. ” I must have assumed that, ‘Oh, crap, I killed him’ look, because he quickly put up a calming hand. “Your bashing him on the skull wasn’t the cause. He had a concussion from that but it didn’t kill him. Seems he was addle-brained from the get go. We had him ‘cuffed to the hospital bed rail as we do any prisoner and an officer on watch. Dude went nuts, started screaming, pulling on the cuff, tried to get away. He kept screaming something about, ‘hoot owls’, and ‘Blood Gate’ or ‘floodgates’, ‘the Ancient Oaks’… maybe, just crazy babble-crap. He was hard to understand for many reason, the metal piercings around his mouth didn’t help. They gave him a dose of vitamin T…” “Wait”, I held up a hand in turn. “What is vitamin T? ” He grinned, “Thorazine. Pretty powerful stuff they use on people having psychotic episodes. It knocked him out for a while. Probably not good in combination with his concussion but he was tearing up his own wrist trying to get loose. Our officer said that he seemed to want to run rather than fight. Guy was a real piece of work. He lived in the woods behind the strip center. He never would say clearly but something drew him to your place. ” “That nightmare scumbag wanted to…” I choked a little at the thought of what he wanted to do to my baby girl. Chuckie put his hand on my arm to comfort me. “Not so sure, this guy was a looney but there was no history on him like that. A couple of drunk and disorderly charges… you know this is confidential, right? I’m not supposed to talk about criminal histories. ” I nodded and he continued, “He’d been in a private mental facility in his teens. Typical, refused to take his prescribed meds, then started finding his own meds on the streets. He has been homeless for nearly a decade. Still, no burglaries, no assaults, nothing. He moved into the woods some time ago, maybe in the past year and dropped off the radar. Detectives spoke with some other local derelicts, they knew him but hadn’t seen him in a long while. Most thought he was dead or in jail. Oh, remember how we said we’d look in the woods? We did and we found what we believe was his camp. Creepy, did you know there was a cave in those woods? ” I shook my head, “Nope, we played there all the time when we were kids, I’m sure we’d have found something like that. Not really common in this area. ” He nodded, “Agreed but there it was. Not very big and smelled awful, worse than most hobo dens. It took a detective who used to work homicide in the city to go in, he was the only one who could stomach the smell. He got inside and nothing but a few blankets, a set of clothes, and an expired state ID with the creeper’s name on it: ‘Howard Blackhawk’, he was some kinda native. There was a small crack at the back of the cave that led downward, too small for the detective or the creeper to get through. He told us that the smell came from that crack, called it, ‘The butt crack of the dead in Hell’. ” At this he laughed at the gallows humor. “Anyways…” he continued when I just nodded, “… no sign that the dude did anything there but sleep and stash his stuff. Not even a fire pit out front of the entrance. He may have used that crack as a garbage shoot and toilet, not really clear. Thing is, he managed to slip his cuffs while the new corporal was taking a turn watching him; as in out at the nurses’ station showing off his new stripes and bragging about his raise. Old Howie slipped his cuffs and climbed out through the window. Corporal Randolph walked in about that time. Howie looked at him and said, ‘They’re coming. I couldn’t do what They said, I couldn’t get the blood of an innocent but they got enough from that dude and me and are coming anyway’. Then he dove head first onto the concrete sidewalk in the courtyard. Only three stories but he made an impressive mess. Problem solved! ” "So he was going to hurt my Ellie. " He shrugged. I sat there, reconsidering my newfound friendship; I knew he was hard-bitten but no need to be so callous about the blood of my child, not to mention homelessness, mental health issues, and drug addiction; of course I hadn’t had much experience with any, who knows? “So nothing more for us to do on this? ” “Nope, you are free and clear buddy, no loss with that guy…” He went on in that vein for a while and then we wrapped up and went back to work. Before we left, he told me that Randolph was busted back to officer and the female officer, Burns was promoted in his place. So I passed on the news to the family and we struggled for a while to get past, “The Blackhawk Down Incident” as we’d taken to calling it. Yet we made it through the next few months and were fairly sane when our newest bundle arrived. The house was sane, yes, but hardly calm: grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, a protective big sister, a jealous big brother, and of course a glowing mother. The supernatural nightmares had been forgotten and the real one resolved… life was good. * * * * * * A few nights after our new addition was home, I was plunged back into the throes of the nightmare realm. It was a Friday night and I was exhausted with the kids. I’d had to take them while Karen handled the new poop factory / eating machine. We had a blast and all ate entirely too much junk food that evening. This time, I awakened at about 3:00 am. No nightmare, eyes just tinked open and I felt wide awake like I’d just gulped down a few cups of coffee. I checked the baby, no worries, did a quick patrol, all was secured, children properly zonked. For some reason, I felt the need to check the patio door a second time. As I approached it, the motion lights activated. Seriously? I stepped outside to look around and didn’t immediately notice anything amiss, likely the cats… Wait. Was that; chanting coming from the woods? I gulped and then looked carefully at the yard. The gnomes were all facing the back fence. The cats, Tom Salem on the right, were lined up on the big tree limb, all staring out into the woods. None of them seemed to pay attention to me. The chanting grew louder and more ominous. I felt that old familiar chill and the lights somehow dimmed. The feeling that the sounds that emanated from the woods communicated a threat grew very strong within me. There had been more construction on the far side of the patch and the developers and destroyed just a little more of the woods but hey, we could use yet another grocery store… Bbuurrrr, I shivered. Please let this be another nightmare! I realized that the chanting now included gnashing and scraping and clinking and that it was not only louder but closer. I hefted flashlight and bat and stalked toward the back fence. I had purchased a ladder that currently rested against the big oak that was opposite Tom’s. I’d forgotten to put away the thing, just as well. I tucked the flashlight under my arm and clutched my bat in the same hand and awkwardly ascended the ladder. Once I cleared the top of the fence, I realized that the darkness I’d noted was not from the dimming of the lights but from the darkening of the woods out back. A deep dimness, like a moonless night had descended over the woods and had begun to encroach into the bare space between the trees and the backside of the fence. Then I saw them, the spindly, spiky figures, all lines and angles, they were silhouetted against the nearly black backdrop. Figures that brought a new meaning to blackness; more an absence of light, as though they were from a plane where light did not exist except for the sickly orange glow of their eyes. Yet parts of them glinted, the teeth and claws and tips of primitive weaponry, each eager to be soaked in gore. I noticed that the shadow line had stopped growing toward the fence, even though the figures still approached. Then I saw little cones rise from the ground, five of them. The gnomes emerged from the soil, each gripping his tool as a weapon. They appeared animated and alive and little puffs of steam emerged from their faces as their breath caught the cold night air. The hatchet man spared me a glance that contained a clear look of ferocity and determination. He quickly turned back to face the threat of the onrushing horde. It was a battle for the ages… in miniature. The gnomes were each no more than two feet tall and the hobgoblins or whatever the spiky things were averaged about three feet tall. They met and merged into a fierce fight, weapons glinting and clashing. The gnomes were outnumbered but seemed to be holding their own, each chanted in a deep guttural voice, “ Vorwärts! Zerquetsche sie! Nimm sie aus! ” (Forward! Crush Them! Gut Them! – No idea how I knew that. ). Then the cats leapt into the fray and filled in the gaps in the line of gnomes. They added their own spitting, clawing, biting efforts to the struggle. The monsters were falling back towards the wood line. The gnomes and cats pressed the fight… Where is Tom Salem? I thought. He’d be able to finish the battle. Then I felt myself falling backward from my perch, an inky form, larger than the average monsters, clutched at my head and shoulders. The ground rose up and knocked the breath from me. I felt a sharp pain in my upper right shoulder as the spiky monster thrust his spear home. He leered at me, then leaned in to take a bite out of my face. He didn’t make it, Tom Salem sailed through the air and latched on to his head and shoulders in turn. The proportions between the hobgoblin and me and those between Tom and the hobgoblin were oddly symmetrical, almost as though planned. Tom soon had the creature expending all of its energy and focus to remove him rather than to attack me. I took a much needed if brief moment to recover my breath and my flashlight, I had no idea where the bat had gone. I managed to stagger to my feet, the shoulder ached like a migraine but my arm was otherwise numb and dangled uselessly at my side. I saw that the monster had started to gain the upper hand on Tom as they spat and rolled and fought all around the near perfect lawn. I found an opening when the monster pinned Tom to the ground and raised its spear for the murder strike. I came down overhand with the flashlight and put a serious dent in its head. I spun the device in my good hand and shined the beam of light into its baleful eyes. Their glow was gone and the figure slumped to the ground and dissolved into the soil. “Good one Tom! You are my main cat! ” I exuberantly called out to my battle companion. I glanced at where he had been and to my horror, I saw that he was pinned to the ground with the spear. He did not move, he did not breathe. I was suddenly filled with a mixture of sadness and anger. I raced to the ladder and shifted it so that it rested against the fence, then climbed and clambered over the top. The battle still raged and some of my army had taken damage. It was a stalemate, just inside the line of trees. Then I arrived like an ancient Berserker. I swept the beam of the flashlight across the faces of the wicked horde. They blanched and were clearly blinded for a moment. My troops pressed forward, shredding the nasty creatures. Then I waded into the fray, my proportionately giant legs kicked goal after goal and the end of my flashlight sunk several hole in one shots, the beam turned maniacally in all directions as I swung the instrument like a Giant’s club. It was too much for the invading throng. They fled back into the woods, the darkness retreating with them. I stood there, breathing heavily and peering out through the trees. The cats sat or lay and licked their wounds. I caught sight of five little red cones as they sunk into the soil… It was over, we’d won. Then I realized that I couldn’t climb back over the fence, certainly not with a broken wing. I hung my head and began the trudge around the cul-de-sac. I paused briefly at the back gate that led into my parents’ back yard… Nope! Their new Rottweiler, Prince would eat me alive until dad came out and shot me. Sure could have used Prince in the fight. Dad’s shotgun too! Oh great, I’m in my sleeping clothes, no key, I thought gloomily. Then I wondered how Karen and the kids could have slept through that affray. My screams alone should have awakened at least half the neighbors. As I walked, the pain in my shoulder receded and some sensation returned to my arm and hand, though I still felt a chill in them and blood still trickled from my shoulder. Thing had been stabbing at my neck, it had meant to kill me. I knew I had just checked the front door from the inside and ensured that it was locked but like most primates, I tried it anyway; it opened! I entered and immediately did a check on my family. Each was appropriately zonked and none appeared to have stirred, except Ellie, who had turned onto her side when Lady Gray had fled her little arms and charged into battle. Budget or not, the cats and gnomes would get premium brands for at least the next week. Milk too! I sneaked into the bathroom and checked my wound in the mirror. It wasn’t that big around but it was deep. I cleaned it out and found some gauze to stuff into it. The numbness had definitely improved and the coldness was all but gone. There might be nerve damage but I was suddenly exhausted. I barely managed to crawl in beside Karen before I passed out. I slept through the family chaos of a Saturday morning until nearly noon. I was sore and stiff and anxious to check on my family and my troops. I suddenly realized that I’d left Tom Salem’s body outside, pinned by that fiend’s spear. I hobbled into the living room and greeted everyone with a hug and a kiss. Karen looked at me curiously, the new baby suckling away all the while. “You okay, Clay? You look terrible. ” “There was an, incident, last night. I’ll give you the details in a moment. Hey, please keep the kiddos inside for a few, I need to check something in the back yard. ” I said as I stepped over to the patio door. She just smiled and nodded, the strangeness still didn’t register with her, though apparently the gnomish memory tricks had stopped for me. I remembered the entire night. * * * * * * I ended up wrapping Tom’s corpse in a big beach towel. He really was large and heavy. I placed him under the limb of his tree and realized that I’d have to dig a grave mostly one-handed. I managed. Then I went back inside to explain what had happened to my lovely bride. She grilled me until she realized that I was injured. I got dad to drive me to the emergency clinic in that stupid strip center on the other side of the woods. Coincidence?! I got better over the next week, no real damage and the memories of my injury faded from Karen’s memory. The kiddos were unfazed and when I tried to thank dad one last time for driving me to the clinic, he just gave a WTF look with one of his eyebrows raised. The gnomes all stood around, a bit worse for wear, some chipped paint and a few gouges in their ceramic, yet each wore a self-satisfied, vaguely arrogant smile. The cats still came around to eat, sleep, hunt, and whatever else cats did. I was absolutely sure… I still wanted a dog… but I loved our cats! I also needed to know more about what had happened so we could avoid future warfare. I called Mrs. Burton and first asked about Mrs. Richmond. “Oh, oh my, ” she started with a catch in her breath. “I guess I forgot to tell y’all, we just buried momma day before yesterday. She died early last Saturday morning. ” “I’m sorry to hear that ma’am. ” We exchanged a little more talk of condolences and then I decided to just go for it. “Mrs. Burton, the same night your mother passed, we had an incident here at the house. More specifically in the back yard. ” “In the… back, yard? ” she hesitantly inquired. I rushed on, fearing she’d make an excuse and hang up the phone. “Yes ma’am, it involved cats, gnomes, and some kind of creatures from the woods out back. I was injured and I fear for my family. Is there something you want to tell me? Something you should have told us before you sold us the house? ” Silence… though I could tell she was still there, just gathering her thoughts. “You may find this hard to believe but my memories about this have only started to return since momma passed. Her family brought over the gnomes from Germany. They were related to the guy who invented them; the garden variety that is. I’m not sure about the cats. She told me the gnomes were there to protect our home and the neighborhood. She said to make sure to feed them. No idea what garden gnomes could do to protect anybody nor what to feed ceramic figures. Likely just, ‘stupid-stition’, you know how old folks are. The monsters are something momma called, ‘Hu’tau’, not sure where they came from but she said that they were some kind of native Land Sprite that got stirred up every time someone cut down part of the woods. She wasn’t sure why they attacked our yard in particular but thought it might have something to do with the big oaks on either end of the fence, maybe being some kind of Gateway into our world…. I dunno, I really don’t know much about it, I was grown when they moved to that house, she only recently told me all this stuff. I thought it was just her dementia, which had actually improved after she left the house. Funny though, I only recently remember her telling it…” She hesitated again, “I think they may have killed my father, I’ve never believed that he fell off a ladder. ” I thanked her, again offered my condolences, then hung up and went back to my family. Life was good. * * * * * * We named the black lab puppy, “TS” in honor of old Tom Salem. He grinned and gamboled into the yard with that goofy, hopping puppy gait, sniffing and peeing like a good little boy. The cats pretended to ignore him as they would any dog that behaved in such a dorky, doggish way. They sat or lay, aloof on their various perches, each attempting to display her battle scars in the best light. Cats are awesome! TS was doing his best to mark everything in the new territory as, “his”. Dogs and human toddlers can be similar when it comes to property rights. Then I realized where he was headed and a wicked grin spread on my face. The gnomes, as they watched TS’s progress towards them, looked… horrified!
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