"The fortress will be abandoned,the noisy city deserted; citadel and watchtower will become a wasteland forever, the delight of donkeys, a pasture for flocks, till the Spirit is poured upon us from on high, and the desert becomes a fertile field, and the fertile field seems like a forest." Isaiah 32:14-15
The halls were cold. Not the cool of a drafty house. But the bone searing chill that sets into abandoned concrete walls winter after frosty winter. The hospital was in private Forest Hills, the most exclusive zipcode in Queens and it was abandoned. Far too modern to have been a tuberculosis sanitarium but not stale enough to have housed the insane or" unwanted", it stood outdated and covered in snow. One single light burned on the second floor window as their bus slid to a stop on the quickly accumulating slush. The guests disembarked and wearily walked into the darkness. The once automatic doors stood at a standstill when one of their fearless leaders approached the threshold of the daunting building. It took two of the stronger men to pull open the neglected rusty metal doors. The staircase was just past the lobby where tens of torn fabric chairs still lined the waiting room. The magazine racks were bare. Twenty of them made eye contact and shivered at the sight of one another's breath.
A few of the women walked the corridors past forgotten rooms with patent's gurneys pushed against the cinder block squares. A gentleman tried the door to the physical therapy room. Through the single pane windows, you could visualize the ghosts sliding their hands along the rails in hopeful rehabilitation. All the equipment was worn down from from frequent use. The icy brass doorknob gave way and then broke off into his hand. The group shuddered and cautiously moved forward past the nurses station, where an old stethoscope laid on the cracked laminate, and entered the left wing.
They gathered in one of the larger rooms where the shades were drawn. The snowflakes were steadily gaining in girth and falling fast, blocking their visibility to dawn breaking outside. The sky was a muted dark grey.
They huddled for desperate warmth and waited. All they had was time.
With the passing of the eleventh hour...four scenes of The Good Wife went in the can.
It's a wrap....
How do you fill life's bleak vacancies?
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