The Ghost Of HSS

Predating, modern technology revolutionizing all global society aspects, a good honorable friend removed her hand, unclasping a genuine warm-hearted gesture not even noticing the television screen information reported data.

“American hostages, young boy went missing,” the maturing youngster whispered, “you best sleep, my fellow compatriot.”

Standing up, almost adolescent, McNickel, displayed a half smile, “just wanted to stop over, wish you a good morning, matinee this afternoon, you know.”

Despite her youthful age, the pre-teen won the theatrical lottery landing the miniature chorus girl role in the original Ladies Lane production, “The Sun Will Be Out Tomorrow”, touted by many critics, ‘warm’, ‘giving’, and ‘full of life’. Promoted as a dramatic musical the extracurricular recreational activity occupied many hours, but she found a couple minutes to check on her former nursery school classmate enduring a scheduled medical procedure.

“Exactly the way, Mrs. Branch said, you will have a huge mountain hill to climb,” McNickel dramatically stated departing the scene.

When a health care worker wearing informal pajama style scrubs decorated with cartoon characters, brushed by the impressionable mind, McNickel went looking for an answer, “is he going to die?”

“No,” the respected healer responded, “let the machines, do their job.”

Before her stage mother got the idea dropping her off at a New York City casting agent day care center, McNickel attended the Cooper Road Preschool where she met Carl Brodie. First thing the five-year-old witnessed was his smile not the hideous braces performing all day physical therapy. A few weeks later into the semester while learning month names, Carl disappeared, and when McNickel asked the teacher, an honest explanation returned, making the point, “they took him to the hospital, and are doing leg experiments.”

Taking a step back the child pondered a second concluding, Mrs. Branch, told the truth and sometimes that fact is a tough reality to swallow.

Entering the white lighted hallway, McNickel passed Carl’s parents, “thank you for coming, dear,” the mother issued a statement.

“Your welcome Mrs. Brodie,” McNickel replied, “I have a matinee today, so I got to go.”

“He will be up and around by Monday,” Mrs. Brodie declared projecting an intimidating persona.

Hearing the comment, McNickel used a moving forward technique learned behind the show curtain as she marched towards the elevator bank.

Pressing the lift’s button, only a few seconds elapsed, and the gigantic doors opened, “why are they so big?”

“So, we can fit beds,” a voice sounded, “and bring the dreaming apparatus downstairs to the operating room.”

“Operating room?” McNickel innocently questioned.

“It’s safe there,” the stranger wearing virginity colors responded, “we know what we are doing”

After entering the mirrored box, featuring two exits, front and back, everything closed trapping the pair, “if the H means Hospital, what does the SS stand for?”

“Sshssh,” the perceived angelic figure slithered, leaving the travelling contraption when her glowing illumination destination appeared.

Next, McNickel landed on the ground floor and the young actress saw the real world display its hustling bustling city street, doing its daily business attitude.

Adjusting her backpack McNickel spotted her mother sitting, sipping coffee experiencing the cafe ambiance and the curious visitor noticed a character difference. Upon, arrival at her mother’s side, now comforted in trust she inquired, “why are the nurses helping Carl wearing different outfits then they do over there?”

“Well, McNickel,” the mother responded, “the floor upstairs, you were on, they are dressed for children and over there, they are curing adults.”

“Oh,” McNickel seemed relaxed seeing the proper uniform presentation.

“How is your friend?”

McNickel grinned, “Carl Brodie is asleep, resting in peace.”

“That is good, McNickel, but we’ve got to go,” McNickel’s mother nudged, “you my darling need to get to make up, get into your costume, begin work.”

“Like those nurses, chit chattng, gossiping,”

“Yes, McNickel,” her mother affirmatively agreed while McNickel watched a stretcher wheeled into the elevator, with a bunch of mattresses.

“That must be for a patient who is royalty,” the child star commentated as her mother’s right hand firmly held McNickel’s arm and the left hailed a cab.