Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Judge-ment Day

Judge Melvin Wright was still in critical condition at George Washington University Hospital a week after his carjacking. Nurse Consuela Arroyo stopped by his room to say a rosary for him before going home for the night. A loud noise interrupted her, and she walked over to the window to see what it was--a raven on the window ledge making a ruckus. She shivered, knowing the patient would soon be dead. She returned to her rosary, which was for his soul.

Several miles away in Adams Morgan, Angela de la Paz was saying a rosary with her grandmother. A loud noise interrupted them, and they looked out the window to see what it was--a raven in the redbud tree making a ruckus. Angela had learned all about ravens from Dr. Raj at the Friendship Garden. She held up the rosary and fixed her gaze on the raven, and it quieted down. Angela returned to her grandmother to finish the prayers that would ease her grandmother to sleep.

A few miles away in Dupont Circle, the ravens were getting loud--loud enough even for the freaks living in Dupont Down Under to hear them. "It's because the Feds are getting closer to us!" "The ravens don't give a damn about that!" "Yes, they do!" The Feds had finished half of their P Street underground bunker, and had switched construction to the other side. "Sister Rhonda" was fingering her rosary and lighting candles. "That's not going to help!" Sister Rhonda made the sign of the cross and kept lighting candles. "If the Beaver can't stop them, who can?"

Several miles away in Southwest Plaza, Marcos Vasquez was saying a rosary for his mother's rheumatoid arthritis. He didn't really believe in this sort of thing, but he knew what it meant to her when he could honestly tell her he had prayed a rosary for her suffering. Lately he had started praying about that thing in the Potomac, too. His nightmares were getting worse. He needed to tell somebody about it, but he wasn't sure who.

A couple of floors away, Golden Fawn was rubbing cream on her radiation burns, thinking about all the people who were praying for her, fasting for her, drumming for her, and cooking for her. She looked at the rosary hanging on her doorknob since a coworker had brought it by. Many paths to God were being trod on her behalf by people all over the country, but somehow she felt it was really up to her.

Several miles north, a solitary figure stood outside the Vice-President's residence. It was Theresa, who had slipped away during a zoo outing from her Arlington group home for the mentally challenged. Theresa had read the Washington Post article about Dick Cheney and had decided she needed to say all the Miracles of the Rosary for him. He was so evil.... The guards watched her warily and wearily, while inside the residence, the Vice-President and his wife were arguing about whether the Post article had been a good thing or not. The house ghosts were greatly amused, separately egging on each side in the debate. It was all about power, which had less to do with good and evil than many living people realized.

Back at the hospital, Dr. Khalid Mohammad stopped by Melvin Wright's room, where the judge's tormented soul had suddenly decided it was better on the other side, seen a light, and run for it. Nurse Arroyo had just hit the call button, but it was only a coincidence that Dr. Mohammad had now arrived. The do-not-resuscitate order hung at the foot of his bed. Dr. Mohammad's emergency room surgery a week ago had only given the judge one more week of life on Earth. "You did everything you could," Arroyo said to him, fingering her rosary with one hand and her crucifix with the other. But Dr. Mohammad never felt he did enough. He looked out the window at the silent raven, but he could not see the nearby Shackled flying away, relieved that this spirit had moved on.

Down in the depths of the Potomac, Ardua was incensed at the loss of the judge.

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