- A Few Weeks Later or So -
- 26th of November, 1964 -
The seasonal progress became a victim to the eagerly anticipating winter with its relentless inklings of chilly climate and the forthcoming profusely delightful snowfall. Thanksgiving slowly but surely bled into the calendar's remark and corresponding to the current day.
Despite the circumstances of Thanskgiving and corresponding to the absolute reality of the orthodox traditions of Thanskgiving, Timothy wasn't getting along with his family and the sole person whom he could count on somehow was you and somewhat Judy. Moreover, Thanksgiving's orthodox traditions weren't objecting your actual requirements to be parallel at all. You didn't have any family to remark the traditional American holiday with anybody else except your friends Barb, Frederic and Dana.
As the hours of the wee morning unceasingly delightful bled into the sunrise's twilight and the late autumn gigantic, roundish gilt sun climbing insistingly, dully the palish horizon as its profoundly long, mirthfully elastic sunrays beamingly filtered the living beings and the esthetically lavish late autumn prospect, in the meanwhile, the pious sister of the church and the ambitious Monsignor' figures occupied the austerely atmosphere-clad office of Judy and discussing formally professional their plans for the patients' supplements along with the staff members' earnings and the extraordinarily merry benefits the staff members numbered as security guards, orderlies and nuns would earn beneficially.
It has been a few weeks after the ill-famed Nazi war criminal's arrest and the trial's foreshadowed sequel was potently anticipated by the top witnesses like Judy, Timothy and Mary Eunice as plaintiffs to object the senior doctor of science's sheer innocence. Furthermore, the sheer upsetness despondently contagious crawling icily in the pit of the juvenile woman of the cloth's stomach was indisputably unimaginable in her case. The rich medley of unconditional heartbreak, misery, bewilderment and brillant betrayal blended its own cauldron of toxic liquid boiling and cooking inside her very emotions and the depths of her nubile muscles and frail bones.
What the juvenile woman of the cloth could barely even put a finger on realizing that her once favorite doctor that pearly cherished her pure, childlike innocence, his actual capability of committing the real epitome of heinously unforgivable, paging up his rich criminal history. The genuine notion of her vividly childlike naivety to unmask his heinously hair-rising character she has never been able to get to know or at least catch a bold glimpse of somberly contrasted the Bostonian's brilliant intelligence and her lavish swarm of doubts, fluttering in the form of ferociously howling beehive of bees, buzzing lowly incessantly and composing their ode.
Jude and Timothy really abhorred with each ounce of their very beings to behold their ideal daughter model was beyond physically and emotionally agonized even severely afflicted with heartache due to the unmasked real identity of Arthur Arden. Last but not least, the young blonde was roughly struggling to embrace with open arms the absolute reality.
"What are yar thoughts on the bonus benefits of the staff members such as decreasing their work time today, in order to spend more time with," A sharp exhale dramatically cold-blooded pause seared the older lady's berry-coloured, wet tongue whilst readjusting her gravely strict seating posture on her hardwood bureau and squinting up her hazelish-brown bijous at the recent visitor. An eerie flat line decorated her porcelain, elderly youthful complexion. "Their families, Monsignor?" Even though the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's dotingness on the concept of releasing the asylum staff much earlier to spend their bonus time with their families was indisputably potent. Little did she know if her boss is going to solemnly approve her suggestion.
"I think that would be a fairly good idea for the staff members to spend more time with their families on Thanksgiving since it makes great sense what kind of an autumn holiday it's actually!" In the interval, manifesting to bob his head in solemn agreement to reaffirm categorically his own outstanding position, the British aristocrat's manipulative motions of his tongue to greedily, idly lick his upper and lower cherub, pale-pinkish lips performed on reflex. "But there are some staff members like orderlies or security guards that don't have families on Thanksgiving."
"Well, they also deserve some break from the arduous work which Briarcliff grants them regularly." Another heavy sigh unloaded her fragile ribcage whilst her weathered, spidery alabaster fingers clumsily, childishly perky toyed with her discarded pair of eyeglasses dumped aside on the bureau, a weak, optimistically hospitable smile blooming upon her mouth. "Don't ya think it's truly deserved, Timothy?" Switching the formal to informal address towards the younger gentleman dimly caught him off guard shortly after he shot a fleetly nimble glance at the wooden-framed photograph of the head nun of the old, nefariously grandiosen mental hospital posing with the holy priest after delivering a speech during their visit in the local churches of Boston a year ago.
"I think that is supposed to be for fair agreement, however," The haphazardness of the starkly bleak distraction indicating Timothy's current soberness, aroused mild bewilderment in the blonde whose hazelish-brown bijous opted to examine in a scrutiny every discreet detail behind his mannerism and body language. His demeanor has been questionable for almost a straight month without even daring to take the very first steps to arrange his exorcism or rescue his brittle, one of a kind soul of the unbelievably fiendish corruption slowly but surly darkening his true identity and unmasking the malicious intentions of the devilish lord to reign over his motives and dreams even seeding the wighty spawns of impulsive commands to dominate his muscles and cells. "However, the question is how many of those staff members really deserve break from their hardwork to be responsible for the patients' care?"
"Timothy, that's quite controversial question, but since it's a national holiday," Meanwhile, the British compatriot managed to approach the tall chest of drawers' furniture and transfix his smoky quartz cabochons on the year old Polaroid photograph which it spoke emotions at first sight. The fantastic brilliance shimmering past his big, roundish smoky quartz cabochons mildly seared his lower eyelids with inescapable rivulets of crystalline twin fat tears drenching, consequently trickling sluggishly downward at the homesickening memories he collected mindly through the abundance of vagons railing through his train of thoughts and gearing the vividly explicit, inevitable flashbacks, jumpcutting to fog his optics. "They sincerely deserve their labour to be preciously treasured and their present to be in the form of taking break, because it's not easy to take care of bunch of loonies that aren't a child's play."
Even though the members of the church had sometimes somewhat strong disagreements and weak points to prove their passionate discords on certain issues, anyway the former sleazy nightclub singer sincerely treasures each second and each great deal of effort the staff members of the mental institution they have spent with and implied on criminally insane lunatics that are their essentially difficult task to accomplish as part of their daily hectic schedules. The physical and mental stamina to confront even get them in the right track the nobodies that weren't part of the general population's crystalline soberness and far cry from guiltlessly harmlessness, couldn't be regenerated after the shifts they were forced to take to look after the inmates.
Notwithstanding their stamina's exact stability, their diligently insisting duties to fulfil divinely pleasing the head nun of the mental hospital and the ambitious Monsignor' requirements severely, rapidly drained each ounce of the security guards ans sanitarians' functioning muscles in choir and fraying gearing cells to reproduce their commands and thoughts.
"Jude, Thanskgiving has nothing to do with Christmas or Easter!"
"It has to do! Since Thanskgiving is parallel to Christmas, Easter and many other holidays we consider genuinely special to be celebrated with their families," Manifesting to spread broadly, authoritatively her petite, marbled hands to indicate her current stance of defeatism, afterwards a bittersweet lump hypodermically seethed furiously her feminine Adam's apple to clash with her boss's stubbornness, whereas shifting her attention to his stark distraction. The oak wood framed Polaroid photograph of the last year.
Despite the circumstances and the bare felicity that might be candidly readable all across the staff members of Briarcliff to go back at their homes to cook, get ready for Thanksgiving and sit on the table to eat, drink and spill shenanigans conveyed the low-spirited homesickening message to the Bostonian.
Having no family for a handful of decades even somebody to love and cherish her very being with each ounce of their flimsy hearts frankly blood curdlingly remorseless tore off Judy's heart on thousand of invincibly frail, glassy pieces. No husband to dedicate her stark, ethereally timeless loyalty, unconditional love and murderous time and warmness to snuggle into his strong, callousedly doting arms where her security is doubtlessly guaranteed. No children to teach them, unconditionally love them from the bottom of her frail heart and behold their adorable faces with embroidered their crossbred facial features, inherited of their outstandingly glamorous creators. No remaining relatives or any other member of the inner circle to share galore of interesting and bland shenanigans such as her exquisitely sugar-coated moments and woes.
"Ya okay, Timothy?" The rabidly rapid, unexplainably awkward pause settling peacefully in the austere site intensified the megawatt heart pulsations of the devotional holy woman whumping desperately into her ribcage when the younger man yanked gingerly, surreptitiously the wooden framed photo to survey in a scrutiny the Polaroid, dark illustration of the photographical memorable masterpiece. The sparkling, broadly permeated smiles across their mouths sheening their scintillating glossiness, coupled with the utter focus of their eyes towards the camera.
"I am fine." Shaking recurringly his head to sort his mind rationally, thus his pale-pinkish lips registered to thoughtfully sly purse to think more logically rational, furrowing his dark, masculinely thick eyebrows and darting fleetly deft his cinnamon brown embers to the former licentious jazz nightclub singer for a split second to not utterly arouse her ultimately emphatic, painful wariness, acutely sketching her dainty, delicate facial attributes. "Everything is fine, Jude! You aren't supposed to be worried for me at all, rare bird!"
Notwithstanding the circumstances, the both pious members of the clergy's worldviews on the national holiday Thanksgiving distressed the British compatriot due to the notion and its history dating a couple of centuries ago even congregating a huge thrill of nausea sugarcoated in unsacred disgust and enveloped exquisitely smart with an achromatic lividness. The extravagant miscellany of ferocious lividness and nauseous disgust boiled its amplifying adrenaline to assimilate mindly the history behind the national autumn holiday and he could scarcely find any sense in its celebration annually on the last Thursday of November, although his two home lands situated in the other part of the world and nowadays in Boston.
"Ya think Thanksgiving isn't a special holiday and those staff members who worked their asses off to keep the loonies out of troubles or at least supplied with whatever they're needed," Fashioning into balled fist her fidgety hand to grapple firmly her conservatively wool, traditionally dark habit's hem to stimulate her adrenaline and dim exasperation overally painting her facial attributes elegantly, grimly. "They're celebrating some kind of nonsence that makes them to look like fools?"
"I didn't say they look foolish, Jude! This holiday is some kind of baloney, howsoever, it's celebrated anyway!" In the meanwhile, the devotional man of the cloth ushered his colossal, monstrously creamy hands to leave aloof the wooden-framed photograph on top of the hardwood furniture and brassly citrine shades inkling to glowingly shimmer into his coffee brown cabochons, whereas his front ivory, firm teeth clamped his lower lip's raw spot to be gnawed for a several seconds to regain his logically witty thoughts constructing its imminent utterance to confront somehow slyly the holy woman. "The staff members deserve break, of course, because they're like every one of us. They have families, children and more important stuff to do out of those dully lifeless walls. They have other critically more utmost issues which are part of their lives."
- Later that Day -
Once you finished your shift in the cafeteria to benevolently, professionally lukewarm to serve the clients your kindness, regardless their bitter whismicalness, thereafter you paid visit to Dana's home where Thanksgiving is going to be situated between you, Barb, Frederic and Dana, the hostess, herself.
At your arrival, you're bountifully pleased to be embraced by the radiantly vibrant, divinely gilt vista of richly prepared dining table with a couple of plates for the guests, salads, bottle of luxuriously scrumptious red wine and monumental plate of freshly roasted turkey in the middle of the grandiose dining table.
For your own surprise, Dana's parents rather planned to celebrate Thanksgiving in Malibu due to the fantastically balmy weather in late autumn though their monstrously altruistic decision to grant their prosperous daughter to celebrate it with her friends on their own once in her life time.
Spending a half an hour in nonchalant ruckus of sea of discussions and eventual discords along with eating and drinking blatantly and enjoyably, the celebration was vibrantly promising and balmy. Opulent of interests and heat prominently intensified the colloquys you swapped mutually with one another.
"I was thinking we can one day go on a trip to Malibu or Nashville to relax for awhile." The prominently friendly suggestion reminded the female trio we deserved a remarkably refreshing trip for a couple of days as its owner was Frederic, whose masculinely meaty, youthfully deft fingers toyed featherly-soft with the glass of his scarlet liquor, pooling the surface. "I'm just sick and tired of that old boring Boston with its crappy weather and the snow we have even in March and April."
"Frederic!" The suddenness of the austerely sharpness puncturing the German-Canadian compatriot's reprimand, gracious reminder about Frederic's blatant impulse of permitting fluently his mouth's cataract of constructed vowels and syllables in the form of utterances to overflow strong language which wasn't pearly appreciated by the strict hostess. Squinting up her glaring, scintillatingly ablaze azure blue optics at the young man who was sharing a seat alongside her, whilst balefully mild baring her stunningly ivory, majestic teeth to alter her stance rapidly. "Watch your mouth before I hear another sort of baloney which is an actual synonym of crappy."
"At least, I genuinely like his idea to have trip to Malibu or Nashville." The Mexican's cusp of optimism and realism graciously spotlighted her solemn approval of the idea. "Don't you like the idea, Dana?" An optimistically vibrant, childlike grin parted Barb's lips into a wide O.
"I like it, Barb! It's undeniably amazing, but I won't tolerate his blatantness to ruin it." Meantime, your spidery pristine, fresh fingers gingerly waltzed its dance around your silverware fork and pronging categorically a mouthful of its numerous bite of the national holiday's dish while being all ears to your friends' colloquy.
"He's just Frederic! Embrace with open arms the fact he can be either a clown or a tree, however, he's still our dear friend!" At the moment, the juvenile Mexican compatriot manifested to snake her satin arm around your dainty shoulder which initially startled you until you mustered its kindheartedly warm, familiar touch contagiously mapping your figure, scarcely breaking Barb's facial expression into ominous grimace.
The haphazardness of the front door's ding caught off guard rabidly rapid the horde of young adults along with you as the heart pulsations megawattly accelerated in your chest and gracefully munching the perpetually atomistic food chunks, battering your wet, strawberry-coloured tongue without choking in a jiff.
"Holy shit!" Composing a humdrum ballad of flabbergasted cuss pitching the background for your own surprise the sheer glimpse at the redhead's abrupt unpredictable usage of villainous expletive slipped from her wine-stained naturally nude pink, plumpish lips.
"Who it could be, Dana?" During the fiery turmoil, the juvenile gentleman registered to lift up his glass of scarlet liquor to swig a handful of tiny, welcoming sips to hydrate his organs and oral caverns shortly after posing the question begging for an immediate response and shaking incessantly mellow the alcoholic beverage idly, mischievously.
"I'm guessing my parents are earlier back from Malibu or the mailman just dropped a new message again." Then the redhead managed her peachy rear to lift up from her current seat and subtly sneak out of the dining room and dash exceedingly momentarily to the front door to acknowledge the very presence of the uninvited guest.