✞ Matthew 6:15 ✞
✞ "But if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." ✞
✞ Sister Jude, or rather, Judy Martin, the former head nun of one of the most infamous mental hospitals in the small city of...
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--- *** --- --- A Couple of Hours Later or So ---
--- 1st of March, 1965 ---
The following night. Like every ordinary nocturnal daily episode, emulating each commonly encountered day indicated according to the annual calendar.
The following night, when the pious sister of the church and the possessed doctor were accompanying the Bostonian in her booked hospital room for recovery and promising cure and bestowed her hope for recovery from earlier, in spite of the fact her stay inside the dully grandiose medical institution for straight two weeks from the glass wounds and ominous burns.
The middle-aged lady's encouraging recovery vibrantly, balmily swaddled her along with her hopes after not only receiving daily visits by her only contemporary, nevertheless, promisingly doting family Kit and Grace.
Besides the daily harmonizing prayers recited in inward mumbles, also the British compatriot and Mary Eunice's visits, which compensated for two weeks of partly accomplished felicity and unconditional comfort as if certain very fragments were missing from solving the ultimate puzzle. The hospital's wall clock ticked distressingly unnerved, incessantly uneven in every room and the monumental building.
The wee hours of the early morning were embraced by the gruesomely thick cloak of ebony, cloaking everything outside and indicating the true time.
Three o'clock in the morning was fatally apocalyptic and spooky, or rather, giving those apocalyptically spooky vibes to its still awake souls along with the others, vulnerable to the vile essences and monstrous dark silhouettes of supernatural creatures. They haunted the darkest corners of the room and their recent residence.
A couple of nurses and doctors were arduously in charge of the night shift they were taking. It wasn't child's play at all, especially in the former holy man's case to spend a couple of hours in rationally profound discussions, swelling in opulent topics with Sister Mary Eunice out of Jude's patient room.
"Wouldn't you like a cigarette, sister?" In spite of Timothy's deep acknowledgment of the juvenile pious sister of the church's non-smoking character, anyway he didn't want to disappoint her without offering her once a cigarette at least. The duo was recently seating on the balcony, linked to Jude's hospital room and it was already the third cigarette for the British compatriot for tonight and maintaining an adequate proximity with the juvenile blonde, measured truly in a few inches solely.
The late winter, frosty wind recklessly waltzed and stroked gingerly their exposed alabaster skins and stray strands, an abstractly chromatic medley of aureate, chestnut and opulent saturating pigments, glittering their hairs.
