Stary, Stary Night

Outside the moon is bright and so are the stars. There is a large tarp running across the top of the building I work at. There is police tape marking off the front parking places. More people are leaving than arriving. No phones ringing and even "The Lady" our resident haunter, may have checked out. The time is drawing nigh that ne'er a one shall occupy these buildings. The haunting silence will only be muffled by the soft fuzzy black mold that captures each sound. The fermentation of spills will be easier found than before, but no one to find them. The chairs will be arranged for a last meeting, the channels to the final station watched and the remnant of human occupation as the finale scuff scars the well buffed floor. The floor that could not shine or sparkle enough to forgive us our trespasses’ with CMS. It was these floors that management expected to save us from human error. Twenty thousand dollars were paid to paint away our sins, to strip our iniquities and buff us back into life. Still, the echo's down the empty corridors were not to be filled with the familiar sounds that no one ever heard. Nor, the visions that no one really ever saw. Yes, indeed the place looked presentable enough. The walls appeared more modern than its recently passed Brady Bunch Brown. The teal or avocado trim would no longer haunt those lying in four point restraints. No, these disappeared like a bad hallucination. The shining polished floor mirrored the colors of the neutral walls. And in a last betrayal of efforts, the polished scent permeated the halls. Permeated each room and even the foyer. The lingering odor familiar to those experienced in nursing homes or the men’s room of a honky tonk. The scent caused any and all to pause and search for, a non-existent puddle of urine, as a mad resident searches for their ball. "Do you know where that smell is coming from?" they would ask. Alas, this was the end. No one to appreciate the irony of the floor. They sought a new venue of salvation, but this was for their debtors. As if a coffin draped with a casket spray, they placed a tarp over the edifice. And from the end right up to the entrance where the viewing of the remains would occur, this spray hid the body. This ominous act was to be outdone only by the presence of the bright yellow police tape marking and securing parking spaces, perhaps to signify a crime had indeed occurred. No chalk mark was needed, no investigators with notepads called for, simply the yellow tape forbidding those that sought entrance. The patients who sought refuge would see this ribbon of doom and believe an impending demise was truly in their future. Hence, those that once believed they would take their own life may somehow lose it, at the hands of the stewards of this casket. They would not take that chance. They would not call the ferry man (admissions), nor would they cross the river styx (the foyer of their fate). They would keep driving. One thought he heard voices crying outside "I want to live" as the wheels spun around to expedite to the Othercare North. Those of us who stood at the bastion know the story well. No muffled toned vibrator from the ROLm Phone. Entries that once filled the board with residents and their status were replaced with other names on a different board. Those names were strong colorful names. Names like; United, Ameri and Blue. The flagship name which stained our dry eraser board carelessly written "Medicare" was the weapon, nay, the bullet which severed our services til only a remnant remain. Still they too would be placed in the ever growing names of our fiscal follies. Yes, it seemed as if a prearrangement for funeral services had been made before the flat line appeared on the telemetry monitor. Some had donated their services to other bodies. Kingwood (a strong name) and Westoaks (an eerily similar tree name). She was still living when they interred her. Many would leave before the graveside service if they were not already re-transplanted. Those parts who had been around for years, stayed until the corporate priest served her last rites. They knew. Though the captain jumped ship, the seasoned crew remained. Not bailing water, just waving as if on the Titanic. Believing in reincarnation, they would arrive again, not as before, but at least a living creature of some kind.