Hey guys, sorry for being away for the last few months. One member along with one Admin. knows why. Basically, I needed eye-surgery a few months ago. I'll spare you guys the details since I'm not making this topic out of a desire to get sympathy. Just figured an explanation why I was absent and only recently slowly coming back onto CPF was in order.
I'm very thankful that the surgery went well. Very well, actually. Just took a good while to get to that point. It's still early in the year, so Happy Belated New Year to everyone. What the heck, even to the haters. It's also my Birthday tomorrow. I'm very grateful to the good Lord above for letting me see another one. (Both figuratively and literally.) So, I'm giving you guys a gift of a short story. (Don't worry, I actually have writing talent. So at the very least, I promise it won't suck.) I got my gift already. So this one is for the rest of you. Genuinely hope you enjoy it.
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"Angel-A"
It was always a mystery. Since it began the Asylum Directors' Journal contained the personal thoughts and observations of every Director who inhabited and worked at the institution. Some wrote less than others of course. But that is only to be expected. The Journal contained a more or less accurate account of what unfolded at the institute over the many decades it has existed. Several volumes now exist. But the 2nd volume has pages missing from it. Only a handful. But that's the mystery.
Well, I have those missing pages now. Some of the different Directors over the decades have searched for them. With no luck. I'd like to say that as the current Director, I toiled long and hard before being rewarded. But that's not the case at all. I'll get into that later. The following is the account of Director Stevens. Just as he wrote them in the Journal long ago....
I shall never forget my first night at this vile place. As I recall, the locals were greatly opposed to its creation. They insisted it be built as far from the village as possible. So, it was built on the most Northern tip of the countryside. The North wall overlooks a steep cliff. One wrong step means a final end. I arrived by coach. The driver was professional. However it was clear he did not enjoy making these trips from the railway station to the Asylum. If he were his own man he would certainly decline making the trips. But he does not own the coach, nor the horses. By the look of him, and the lines in his face; I doubt he ever will. Little did I know then the significant role he would play over the course of the next two years.
Director Gill welcomed me warmly. I was expecting him to be far more reserved. I soon found that he was unlike most of the fellow doctors that I was used to working with. And I confess, that was a good thing indeed! He was a short man with balding hair. It looked as though he had never missed or skipped a meal, ever! He wore spectacles. Unlike many in his position he chose to continue to wear the white coat, rather than a business man's suit.
"So good to meet you Dr. Stevens. I trust your journey was a pleasant one."
"Yes Director. Quite pleasant."
"Excellent, excellent. Let us get started."
He explained that my transfer from the hospital was his doing. (Over the years there were times that I hated him for that.) And he explained how desperately another doctor was needed at the Asylum. My years of experience, despite my youthful looks, were a mark in my favor. So too was the fact that I had practiced at an asylum shortly after graduating from Medical School. My temper was a mark against me though. And no doubt, the main reason why I never saw a promotion during my years at the hospital.
This new assignment promised more money, and a higher position. Much higher. The Director's right-hand man was missing. It had been a few weeks now. No one knew what happened to him. But time waits for no man. I would be taking over that position. There were other doctors at the Asylum. But curiously, none of them wanted the job. I would later notice that none were upset that an outsider had gotten the position.
We began right away. The Director led me to the East wing. He called it the place where the "special" cases were housed. Not the most violent. Quite the opposite. Just the "special" ones. It soon became clear why. These were the utterly hopeless ones. No chance at all for even a hope of re-entering society. But one stood out. I didn't think of her as "hopeless." Not then, certainly not now. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
There was Dr. Earlson. Apparently at one point he had indeed been a doctor. One day, for some unknown reason; his mind snapped. However, far from a raving madman, on the surface he seemed quite normal. He could carry on a conversation, he could even be quite witty at times. He was well-mannered.... And then he had his bad days. Which sometimes lasted for several days. He'd curl up in a corner, and just stay there. I was surprised to learn that the Director had given him a fountain pen, ink, paper and a lantern.
"He writes interesting novels. It keeps him busy. Occupies his mind. Some of his stories are quite good. No need to worry, Dr. Stevens. He's never lashed out at anyone in anger. I gave him that pen and lantern almost a decade ago. Never an issue."
I was introduced to other permanent residents of the ward. Maggie for example had been.... Well, let's just say she had once been the type of lady that no proper gentleman would associate with. Now she believed herself to be the Queen of England. No treatment could be found to rid her of that delusion. As the Director introduced me to more patients, a young woman slowly walked up to us. At first I thought she was a nurse. But then I got a good look at her black dress with white frills. Hardly a nurse's uniform. It was only then that I realized she was quite young. Yes, no older than 14 at the most I'd say. Why hadn't I noticed that right away?
Although, I soon learned no one knew her exact age. We all agreed though that she was about 14 years-old judging by what we saw. She introduced herself as Angela. Very polite, well-mannered, with a very soft voice. She looked downright delicate. Even more so than the average 14 year-old. I felt as though I was meeting a child than a young lady. Her hair was straight and blacker than her dress. She seemed a bit too pale. Her eyes must have been a very dark shade of brown. No one actually has black-colored eyes. When you get up close, you notice that they're always dark brown. But when I took a closer look, I would have sworn they were black.
"You're curious about Angela." He said to me once we were back in his office. We sat across from each other at his desk.
"I was not expecting someone that young to be a patient here."
(The Director smiled at me before replying.)
"Angela has been with us for.... awhile. She was found by the coachman. Wandering through the woods nearby. No recollection of who she was. Poor thing didn't even know her own name. Been here ever since. I'm afraid the East ward is where she belongs, along with the others."
"But she eventually remembered...."
"Actually no she did not, Dr. Stevens. We had to call her something. It was Lester Scoggs, one of the other patients from a different ward who saw her and said she was a little Angel. However, with his speech impediment, it sounded as though he said 'Angela.' So that's what we call her. Many of the patients call her that too. Some call her 'Angel.' They respond well to her. Unlike the other patients in the East ward, Angela is free to move about as she wishes. Odd, she has no desire to go outside though. The nurses adopted her, so to speak. They taught her how to perform some of the aspects of their job. She's been very helpful as an unofficial nurse."
"But the Board, Sir. Surely they would never allow a patient to...."
"Sadly, Dr. Stevens; the Board does not care. As long as everything runs smoothly, they literally couldn't care less what goes on here. It is I and the staff who do our best to treat these patients. And Angela is a calming influence over the patients. Well, except for Ivan Dras."
The Director then went into lurid detail regarding patient Dras. Criminally insane. He swore that the children he encountered were all demons or some sort of monsters. Or some such nonsense. The less that is said of this man from a far away Land, the better. Let us simply say that his crimes were the same. The only comforting aspect being how quickly he ended his victims. They did not suffer.
Clearly unfit to stand trial, Dras was put here. The Director told me that the first time he had seen Angela, he tried to batter down his cell door to get at her. A few weeks ago, he slipped out of his cell and had found Angela. Thankfully he was grabbed by a couple of orderlies before he could do anything. At least according to the Director.
It took awhile, but I eventually learned the truth of what actually happened that night. The other violent patients were locked in their cells in the North ward. Just as Dras should have been. Angela was just outside the North ward wing of the Asylum when Dras found her. He was tackled by those two orderlies before he could get to her. But he was more than the two of them could handle....
I'm very thankful that the surgery went well. Very well, actually. Just took a good while to get to that point. It's still early in the year, so Happy Belated New Year to everyone. What the heck, even to the haters. It's also my Birthday tomorrow. I'm very grateful to the good Lord above for letting me see another one. (Both figuratively and literally.) So, I'm giving you guys a gift of a short story. (Don't worry, I actually have writing talent. So at the very least, I promise it won't suck.) I got my gift already. So this one is for the rest of you. Genuinely hope you enjoy it.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
"Angel-A"
It was always a mystery. Since it began the Asylum Directors' Journal contained the personal thoughts and observations of every Director who inhabited and worked at the institution. Some wrote less than others of course. But that is only to be expected. The Journal contained a more or less accurate account of what unfolded at the institute over the many decades it has existed. Several volumes now exist. But the 2nd volume has pages missing from it. Only a handful. But that's the mystery.
Well, I have those missing pages now. Some of the different Directors over the decades have searched for them. With no luck. I'd like to say that as the current Director, I toiled long and hard before being rewarded. But that's not the case at all. I'll get into that later. The following is the account of Director Stevens. Just as he wrote them in the Journal long ago....
I shall never forget my first night at this vile place. As I recall, the locals were greatly opposed to its creation. They insisted it be built as far from the village as possible. So, it was built on the most Northern tip of the countryside. The North wall overlooks a steep cliff. One wrong step means a final end. I arrived by coach. The driver was professional. However it was clear he did not enjoy making these trips from the railway station to the Asylum. If he were his own man he would certainly decline making the trips. But he does not own the coach, nor the horses. By the look of him, and the lines in his face; I doubt he ever will. Little did I know then the significant role he would play over the course of the next two years.
Director Gill welcomed me warmly. I was expecting him to be far more reserved. I soon found that he was unlike most of the fellow doctors that I was used to working with. And I confess, that was a good thing indeed! He was a short man with balding hair. It looked as though he had never missed or skipped a meal, ever! He wore spectacles. Unlike many in his position he chose to continue to wear the white coat, rather than a business man's suit.
"So good to meet you Dr. Stevens. I trust your journey was a pleasant one."
"Yes Director. Quite pleasant."
"Excellent, excellent. Let us get started."
He explained that my transfer from the hospital was his doing. (Over the years there were times that I hated him for that.) And he explained how desperately another doctor was needed at the Asylum. My years of experience, despite my youthful looks, were a mark in my favor. So too was the fact that I had practiced at an asylum shortly after graduating from Medical School. My temper was a mark against me though. And no doubt, the main reason why I never saw a promotion during my years at the hospital.
This new assignment promised more money, and a higher position. Much higher. The Director's right-hand man was missing. It had been a few weeks now. No one knew what happened to him. But time waits for no man. I would be taking over that position. There were other doctors at the Asylum. But curiously, none of them wanted the job. I would later notice that none were upset that an outsider had gotten the position.
We began right away. The Director led me to the East wing. He called it the place where the "special" cases were housed. Not the most violent. Quite the opposite. Just the "special" ones. It soon became clear why. These were the utterly hopeless ones. No chance at all for even a hope of re-entering society. But one stood out. I didn't think of her as "hopeless." Not then, certainly not now. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
There was Dr. Earlson. Apparently at one point he had indeed been a doctor. One day, for some unknown reason; his mind snapped. However, far from a raving madman, on the surface he seemed quite normal. He could carry on a conversation, he could even be quite witty at times. He was well-mannered.... And then he had his bad days. Which sometimes lasted for several days. He'd curl up in a corner, and just stay there. I was surprised to learn that the Director had given him a fountain pen, ink, paper and a lantern.
"He writes interesting novels. It keeps him busy. Occupies his mind. Some of his stories are quite good. No need to worry, Dr. Stevens. He's never lashed out at anyone in anger. I gave him that pen and lantern almost a decade ago. Never an issue."
I was introduced to other permanent residents of the ward. Maggie for example had been.... Well, let's just say she had once been the type of lady that no proper gentleman would associate with. Now she believed herself to be the Queen of England. No treatment could be found to rid her of that delusion. As the Director introduced me to more patients, a young woman slowly walked up to us. At first I thought she was a nurse. But then I got a good look at her black dress with white frills. Hardly a nurse's uniform. It was only then that I realized she was quite young. Yes, no older than 14 at the most I'd say. Why hadn't I noticed that right away?
Although, I soon learned no one knew her exact age. We all agreed though that she was about 14 years-old judging by what we saw. She introduced herself as Angela. Very polite, well-mannered, with a very soft voice. She looked downright delicate. Even more so than the average 14 year-old. I felt as though I was meeting a child than a young lady. Her hair was straight and blacker than her dress. She seemed a bit too pale. Her eyes must have been a very dark shade of brown. No one actually has black-colored eyes. When you get up close, you notice that they're always dark brown. But when I took a closer look, I would have sworn they were black.
"You're curious about Angela." He said to me once we were back in his office. We sat across from each other at his desk.
"I was not expecting someone that young to be a patient here."
(The Director smiled at me before replying.)
"Angela has been with us for.... awhile. She was found by the coachman. Wandering through the woods nearby. No recollection of who she was. Poor thing didn't even know her own name. Been here ever since. I'm afraid the East ward is where she belongs, along with the others."
"But she eventually remembered...."
"Actually no she did not, Dr. Stevens. We had to call her something. It was Lester Scoggs, one of the other patients from a different ward who saw her and said she was a little Angel. However, with his speech impediment, it sounded as though he said 'Angela.' So that's what we call her. Many of the patients call her that too. Some call her 'Angel.' They respond well to her. Unlike the other patients in the East ward, Angela is free to move about as she wishes. Odd, she has no desire to go outside though. The nurses adopted her, so to speak. They taught her how to perform some of the aspects of their job. She's been very helpful as an unofficial nurse."
"But the Board, Sir. Surely they would never allow a patient to...."
"Sadly, Dr. Stevens; the Board does not care. As long as everything runs smoothly, they literally couldn't care less what goes on here. It is I and the staff who do our best to treat these patients. And Angela is a calming influence over the patients. Well, except for Ivan Dras."
The Director then went into lurid detail regarding patient Dras. Criminally insane. He swore that the children he encountered were all demons or some sort of monsters. Or some such nonsense. The less that is said of this man from a far away Land, the better. Let us simply say that his crimes were the same. The only comforting aspect being how quickly he ended his victims. They did not suffer.
Clearly unfit to stand trial, Dras was put here. The Director told me that the first time he had seen Angela, he tried to batter down his cell door to get at her. A few weeks ago, he slipped out of his cell and had found Angela. Thankfully he was grabbed by a couple of orderlies before he could do anything. At least according to the Director.
It took awhile, but I eventually learned the truth of what actually happened that night. The other violent patients were locked in their cells in the North ward. Just as Dras should have been. Angela was just outside the North ward wing of the Asylum when Dras found her. He was tackled by those two orderlies before he could get to her. But he was more than the two of them could handle....
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