Parable of the Crinoline

By Federigo Insegnante

A psychiatrist working at the University of Wisconsin is sent to Italy with his assistant to aid local priests with deciphering the possessed and the ill. They also search for a missing friend during their stay in none other than the sumptuous La Terra Ideale hotel in Rome. Dark secrets are revealed about the hotel and the residents discover a killer amongst them. The psychiatrist soon finds out a guilt-ridden past has caught up to him and he is next on the killer's list. In addition, the killer is linked to an abominable drug known to cause recipients extreme psychological disorders and murderous instincts. The past reveals heated trysts, betrayal, and malpractice. In this world laden with desire, affairs, grief, and envy - vices turn into regret and good intentions turn into malicious deeds. When all said and done, the psychiatrist, the assistant, and a priest try to survive the killer on the loose as they find a way to prevent the distribution of this deadly drug and stop the demons that haunt La Terra Ideale once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781636926315

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

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Parable of the Crinoline

Federigo Insegnante

Copyright © 2021 Brian Garcia

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-63692-630-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63692-631-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

I

All the governments spanning the world declared a state of crisis. Nonetheless, quotidian duties and day jobs continued through whatever means possible despite an egregious economic recession. Had it not been for the youth's complacency to the situation, the influenza would permeate its paranoia to initiate an utter shutdown. In disregard to warnings of its contagiousness, beaches were flocked by the thousands, a desire for frivolity countering any ominous outcomes of the disease, especially among the young who would rather die than miss an opportunity to celebrate their vitality.

A scantily clad young woman was left to rest on the sand as the beaches were forced to evacuate by order of the state. Initially thought to be a protest, as evident by the number of dissidents attending the beach, authorities approached her, only to be confronted with heavy resistance, as the young woman stood with bloodshot eyes and attacked any who came near. That is where she came from—Stacey, a collegiate girl who had arrived at the beach to celebrate the annual arrival of spring and enjoy the festivities before becoming a monster, as they say. Now tied to a chair while the priests prepared for the exorcism, her words were obfuscated by an obstreperous demeanor.

A measly matter of weeks had gone by since the influenza first struck the world, and already it had reached its acme, a pandemic as it were. The original number attending Mass increased tenfold due to fears of a punitive outcome from above, since the infected often displayed grotesque movements and reactions that to doctors and priests were merely symptoms of an unknown disease; however, the masses were convinced the occult was involved. Tricks were played on the mind, from levitations to remarkable feats of strength and endurance, so that even doubters whose inveterate attitudes toward that which is sacred attended Mass in large amounts. The church itself made room for the infected since hospitals did not anticipate the number of patients arriving simultaneously. Society, for the most part, reached a standstill, and, as per usual, those versed in mental illnesses investigated the suspected demoniacs for signs of indispositions before declaring it a matter for the liturgy. Unusual to this practice was the sheer amount of confessions in anticipation for the end of days, in addition to a large demand for exorcists to cleanse the diseased and those with the slightest inclination of uncleanliness.

Thus it followed that Father Morrow, overseen by his guardian angels, exited a darkened room where the demoniac was held. Father Morrow was introduced to a Dr. Theodore Martin, a psychiatrist who would serve as an arbiter in the matter. Much accustomed to these cases involving so-called demoniacs, Father Morrow was doubtful once more on behalf of Stacey as he shook Dr. Martin's hand and said, Thank you for coming, Doctor. I imagine you grow weary of our get-togethers, but I must admit, our case seems to be of a more severe nature this time around.

Dr. Martin replied, I came as soon as I could, Father. However, the nature of this girl—what is it about this particular case that calls for a more directed expertise in the matter? I see you have brought all your guardian angels along with you, as if the devil himself has come upon this girl.

Father Morrow washed his face in a nearby faucet and replaced his sleeves. When Stacey came in, she was hardly coherent. Words she spoke sounded of another language, and her strength abominable.

From what you understood, did she speak in antecedent tongues or possess knowledge beyond her depth of comprehension? asked Dr. Martin.

No.

Did vexations occur around her presence at any given time?

No.

Did she levitate or perform miraculous feats stranger to the average man?

Not exactly, Doctor.

What do you mean?

Dressing himself with the holy cross, Father Morrow put a hand upon Dr. Martin. Theodore, I have my doubts as well. However, it took all seven of my guardian angels to restrain her when she arrived. I fear we may not be so lucky this time, and I must do everything in my power to confront this should my hand be forced to ascribe the young lady's feats to an abomination. Even now she gargles incomprehensibly, and her eyes have been lost beneath the eyelids. I pray your skepticism may come to light once more since I deem it unsafe for you to approach her at this time.

If that is the case, Dr. Martin replied, I pray this young lady will come out of this trance, and you shall continue your prayers and benedictions until it is safe to do so.

And so, Father Morrow, accompanied by his angels and present company, lay a stool over the neck of the diseased and said, Ecce Crucem Domini. Suddenly, Stacey fell unconscious, her body limp and motionless. Because the priest was not met with resistance, he began a prayer:

My Lord, You are all powerful; You are God; You are Father.

We beg You through the intercession and help

of the Archangels Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel

for the deliverance of our brothers and sisters

who are enslaved by the Evil One.

All saints of heaven, come to our aid.

From anxiety, sadness, and obsessions,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From hatred, fornication, envy,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From thoughts of jealousy, rage, and death,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From every thought of suicide and abortion,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From every form of sinful sexuality,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From every division in our family, and every harmful friendship,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

From every sort of evil spell, malefice, witchcraft,

and every form of the occult,

we beg You, free us, O Lord.

Lord, You who said, I leave you peace, my peace I give you,

grant that, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary,

we may be liberated from every evil spell and enjoy Your peace always.

In the name of Christ our Lord. Amen.

The angels stood fast, watching as Stacey remained tranquil in her dormant state. While the priest's angels whispered to one another, Dr. Martin finished his prayer for the young maiden, realizing the priest had put a hand over the forehead. It was not uncommon for the devil to be hidden inside the host, furtive to those in search of him, refraining resistance. Something is wrong, said Father Morrow.

What is it? Has she been freed? asked Dr. Martin.

Precisely my question. A demoniac normally derides any prayer or benediction, debasing any motive for a priest to cleanse the accursed. Since this young lady's arrival, she has been more boisterous and hostile than any demoniac I have seen, yet she remains demure after a prayer of deliverance. Dr. Martin looked toward the ceiling; it gave limelight to Stacey, whose head drooped over the corner of the chair, eyes closed, oblivious to the group of spectators in the darkness shaping the circle of light in the middle of the room. The headlight flickered a couple of times as if needing replacing; the third time it flickered, the room was nearly darkened completely, but Stacey remained in a state of languor. Disregarding Stacey's indifference to his prayer, Father Morrow continued his benedictions on the maiden as he sprinkled holy water on her, but to no avail. Looking back toward the doctor, Father Morrow, in his hesitation, pulled back from the accursed, believing for a moment the young lady was unmoved by deliverance.

This proved to be a mistake. As if through thin air, Stacey's light came to, freeing herself of the ropes restraining her and catching the priest off guard. Before Father Morrow's angels came to his aid, Stacey pulled him forward and whispered into an ear, Help me. Following an abject pain, Stacey delivered onto the priest a hefty bite on the side of the neck. The guardian angels scrambled to secure this deceptively bellicose young lady back to the chair as Father Morrow pressed a bleeding hand to his neck, while Dr. Martin, in an attempt to aid the priest, swiftly left the room in search of a medical kit.

When he returned, Dr. Martin quickly treated Father Morrow's wound to avoid infection before wrapping his neck with a tourniquet. Are you all right, Father?

Yes, thank you, Theodore. I fear this situation to be far worse than I had anticipated. Bites are normally manifested through vexations affiliated with the possessed. Never have I seen a demoniac actually attack someone so maliciously, much less a holy man. Still pressurizing his wound, Father Morrow sat upon a floor stained with blood. Kneeling beside him, Dr. Martin, with medical kit in hand, witnessed the combined manpower of the priest's guardian angels as they attempted to restrain Stacey back in place. Truth be told, Stacey had heard the prayer, attentive as any in the room; playing possum was but a ruse as she freed herself from the ropes that held her to the chair. The young lady continued to wrestle and taste the drops of blood that coated her tongue and teeth and as half of the angels secured the arms to the back of the chair with a tighter grip, the other half did so with the legs until it was certain she could no longer escape.

When she could no longer resist, Stacey began to convulse as if about to vomit, until she began to foam from the mouth, and, convulsing more, what appeared to be a bundle of hair was spat on the floor. By Jove! said Dr. Martin. She has spat out hair clotted with blood! Father is this common?

Occasionally, said the poor Father with anguish. Demoniacs, at times, spit out objects such as nails and hair during the exorcism.

What do you think? Has my skepticism finally caught up with us?

That appears to be so, Father Morrow replied. And if that is the case, I must continue the ritual.

Dr. Martin helped Father Morrow back up to his feet and approached the object expelled from the young lady's mouth. Taking a closer look, Dr. Martin retrieved a pair of forceps from the medical kit and pressed them on the bundle. After further examination, he was no longer convinced that young Stacey had spat out hair, rather a material similar to wool. What are you doing? asked Father Morrow, as Dr. Martin lay a finger upon the girl's neck to check for a pulse.

Father, I am no longer certain the occult is the culprit behind this poor girl's languish. Based on the nature of this occurrence and the young lady's lack of resistance to your prayers, I'd say she has had a reaction to a biological component, perhaps an overdose. Plus, among the bundles of this mysterious material, I find fragments of what seem to be the remnants of a substance.

Her demeanor, then, as I believe you are presuming, is the result of a mental disorder rather than the accursed? asked Father Morrow.

Dr. Martin nodded. I don't expect you to be so amenable at this particular point in time, especially since I have been so blatant with my attitude concerning demonic influence, but being that there are particular policies concerning the safety of certain individuals, this has officially become a case of proper medical treatment, not spiritual.

And her strength, her spectacular feats?

That is a question for another day. As for now, she is to be taken to a hospital in a secure fashion, following therapeutic remedies to this experience.

II

As the days went by, the influenza's death toll accumulated to hundreds of thousands. Friends could no longer see friends, nor were relatives safe from each other. Eventually, the influenza disseminated across the globe at an alarming pace; it became probable for every household in the state to know the infected. A neighbor across the street could wake up to the sound of sirens as emergency medical responders arrived at the scene, escorting a weeping old lady to an ambulance, her husband watching the ambulance speed off with an uncertain fate.

Following the attempted exorcism of the young maiden believed to have the devil hidden in her, she was taken into medical care immediately after she had succumbed to indisposition. Stacey was tested for signs of an infection, and, fortunately for her, she was clear of the murderous influenza; therefore, she was taken to a psychiatric institute in lieu of an emergency hospital or church, which refused further patients in order to prioritize the infected. Stacey had not suffered any physical trauma that would threaten her life; nonetheless, her caretakers were overwhelmingly concerned for the behavior displayed before her arrival. Only time would tell when she would come to from a comalike state. Until then, her caretakers were even more fixated on the material she had vomited during her spiritual cleansing.

Just as Dr. Martin had suspected, the remains of a sort of medicine were found within the bundles retrieved. As for the bundles themselves, a thin ironlike material was tested for any particular prescription that could cause a possible allergic reaction in the maiden. To the dismay of the examiners, the nature of the material remained a mystery since it failed to appear on any medical database, nor were any particular remedies speculated to possess such abject side effects. The theory of chemical imbalance or petrification that may have instigated any cause for Stacey's behavior was therefore disregarded. The young maiden's insubordination could not go unchecked regardless of any assumptions made on her behalf, and as such, it fell upon Dr. Martin's expertise to mitigate Stacey's situation. The deadly influenza appeared perpetual, so a lockdown was initiated to prevent further spread of the disease—no one in or out, except, of course, essentials.

Because the institute was not a shelter for the infected, receptacles were rife for the taking. Behind a one-way mirror, Stacey sat calmly on a metal chair, handcuffed to a ring held to the empty table before her. Her life, it seemed, had changed quite drastically, from the freedom to roam the world to her leisure to an indefinite insularity. Much time had passed without incident. Dr. Martin began to wonder if his theory could be completely refrained in accordance to the girl's behavior after what she had expelled. Perchance the devil was on the sly or simply found young Stacey's emancipation was too much to bear. Either way, the young maiden had much explaining to do, and Dr. Martin an obligation to rid her of whatever demons she possessed.

Dr. Martin entered the room with Stacey and joined her at the table. The young maiden was disheveled and notably confounded by her containment. When Dr. Martin accommodated himself, he looked back toward the mirror and nodded before placing a file on the table. The file concerned Stacey's medical history and the symptoms that led her to her partial incarceration. Good morning, Miss Lenzenweger, if I may call you that. We lost you for a while, we were concerned you would not wake up.

The young woman was either taciturn or too paranoid to speak, staring glassy-eyed until the good doctor released eye contact with the girl due to a gratuitous eeriness. Unlike previous patients, tacit feedback from shaking the legs on account of nervousness or looking around the room in a state of vexation was unapparent in the young woman. She stared in one direction, without even so much as blinking; traumatic experiences perchance nonetheless, Dr. Martin found her behavior to be nerve-racking, the proverbial pin on the ground could be heard in the silence of the room were it not for the buzzing of the overhead lamp.

Stace, replied the young woman.

Excuse me?

Stace. My friends call me Stace.

Okay, Stace, I have learned of your medical history and haven't seemed to have found anything that could point to any particular causes for the altercation both with the authorities and our time spent at the liturgy. You do remember what happened, don't you?

Miss Lenzenweger massaged her thigh with her fingers on the right side, before tilting her head with curiosity toward the mirror behind her. I look terrible. Is there someone watching us? Am I being recorded? Miss Lenzenweger began to pull on the hinges of the table, attempting to free herself unsuccessfully. It could be fathomed that the first conscious human contact since the incident jumpstarted the young maiden's senses back to normal.

Miss Lenzenweger, please calm yourself.

What is this? What have I done? Why am I tied to this table? Have I done something wrong? Why am I here?

I'd be happy to discuss the details over your temporary captivity, said Dr. Martin. In the meantime, I need you to relax. No one is going to harm you. My name is Dr. Martin, the psychiatrist assigned to you on the basis of the altercations that have brought you here.

What are you talking about? What altercations?

You really don't remember anything after your time at the beach?

The beach? Florida, you mean? How do you know about that?

I was not present, Miss Lenzenweger. I know only of your whereabouts from what I have learned of your report. And based on what I have read with proper perusal of the DSM-5, I have concluded your actions to be of a ruptured mental state.

No, that can't be. I occasionally go to therapy, but never for a mental disorder.

I'm aware, but I'm afraid you possess symptoms that exceed that from your regular talks with your therapist. In fact, you attacked the police. Do you remember that?

What! No, I don't remember attacking the police. What are you talking about? Is that why I'm here? You mistake me for someone else!

Relax, Miss Lenzenweger. So far, charges have not been pressed against you on account of what I estimate to be clear signs of schizophrenia and many other symptoms pointing toward irrational or otherwise sporadic behavior. You are here because of the instability you have presented thus far, but now that you mention it, you don't remember the altercation with the police at all?

No! Of course not, I would never attack the police. I would never!

The report says otherwise. I should add, do you remember anything before your misplaced sense of memory? Starting with your purpose at the beach?

Spring.

Come again?

Spring. We—my friends and I—were on spring break. We couldn't go to Spain as planned 'cause of this stupid disease!

Tell me more about that.

Before travel was banned, I had already bought tickets to Spain. Instead, we went to Florida because it's my last year and I didn't want to spend my last break stuck in a room doing nothing. The beach is good and all, but I really wanted to end my last year with a bang.

You're upset because you went to the beach instead of Spain where you feel you would have enjoyed yourself more, being that it's your last year in school.

Yeah, I feel like I can't do anything with this stupid disease! No going out with friends, not even to a restaurant. What are we supposed to do? It's not like classes have even started yet. I've done all my work. I was really looking forward to this time of year!

It's been quite a stressful time for everyone, hasn't it?

Yeah.

Tell me, Miss Lenzenweger, how are you feeling now?

Stressed.

Understandably, this influenza has taken a toll on daily life. One moment you are having fun with your friends, and the next you're here. Do you really not remember attacking the authorities?

No! I told you, I don't remember doing that!

Okay. What can you remember from your time at the beach? Starting with when you first got there.

Uh, I… My memory is kind of fuzzy.

You were there when the beach was being shut down, yes?

Yeah, I think so.

So you were aware of the large group of people around you, namely several of your friends, probably headed in the direction of a crowd moving in a particular direction?

Actually, I do recall one of my friends calling to me, but then I couldn't hear her anymore.

What did she say?

She said something like, ‘We have to go! We have to go now!' She kept repeating that we needed to leave the beach.

That's all you can remember before your mind went blank?

Yeah, I guess so.

Okay. Now, Miss Lenzenweger, I know this is difficult for you, especially in the wake of this crisis, but I need you to help me help you. Do you understand?

Okay.

When you were at the beach with your friends, was there anything that felt particularly wrong?

What do you mean?

"You were at the beach because you couldn't go to Europe as planned. You're upset but figure that even though you couldn't end your last year as previously expected, you'd rather have a good time with your friends at the beach and keep this influenza from ruining any more of your plans. There is a large protest near the shore, bathers refuse to leave the waves, sunbathers pretend not to hear. Eventually, a cavalcade of police storm the beach, forcing all beachgoers to leave in one direction—away from shore. At first, you are oblivious to what is happening, but then your friend calls out to you, telling you to follow. You begin to do so while others chastise the police until you suddenly collapse. When you wake up, you find