Creative Writing: The Bastille The Bastille looked so small from where we were standing. It was a unusually dark night as we approached out objective. I could not keep out of my head the night before. Me and the Doc huddled around the table till 3 am exchanging stories of childhood memories and women. For being a doctor (I hate doctors) he was pretty hip. I wish we wouldn't of drank so much wine though. My head is still throbbing and the damn French weather ain't helping it much either. I keep looking straight ahead, nothing of interest to the sides of me trees and shrubs. My mind