The Forgotten Ward: Where Patients Never Left
A Chilling Tale of Lost Souls and Endless Nightmares
No one mentioned the hospital’s east wing. Not whispering. Not in screams. Abandoned for decades, its windows gaped like hollow eyes, veiled in ivy and age. Legends swept over town like restless spirits. They claimed patients entered Ward Six, but none ever departed.
Alyssa challenged her buddies to explore it. Midnight. There’s no turning back. She laughed nervously, clutching the flashlight tighter than secrets. Jackson, ever the skeptic, rolled his eyes and followed. Lena shivered as the summer air clung to their skin.
The hospital loomed, skeleton and silent. Rusted gates creaked under little strain. Shadows danced across peeling walls. The floorboards moaned as if carried by an invisible weight.
“This place reeks of bad juju,” Lena muttered, her voice breaking like dry leaves.
“Just stories,” Jackson said, though his bluster was as thin as dust.
Alyssa took them further, past shattered gurneys and damaged doors. Her flashlight flickered, creating erratic shapes. A faint sound echoed — a faraway shuffling? No. Is it just imagination?
They arrived to a door marked “Ward Six.” The hinges screamed as Alyssa pushed them open. The room beyond was… too clean. No dust had accumulated on the surfaces. No rot gnawed at the furniture. It felt lived-in and unsettlingly preserved.
A person appeared in the corner. Blink, and it’s gone. A cold ran down Jackson’s spine.
“Did you see that?” he hissed.
“See what?” Alyssa responded, with uneasiness in her eyes.
Suddenly, lights came to life. Not the faint flicker of a dying bulb, but stark, sterile light. The door slammed behind them, sealing their fate.
Unseen speakers crackled with a mechanical yet hauntingly human sound.
“Welcome back, patients.” Treatment will now resume.”
Panic rose. Lena tugged on the door, but it held tight. Alyssa banged the walls. Jackson looked for hidden cameras, explanations, anything.
A pristine white hallway stretched ahead of them, contrasting their apprehension. Footsteps reverberated, but not theirs. Shadows flitted around the borders of eyesight. Each move revealed nothing, but something felt closer.
“We have to leave!” Lena cried.
Alyssa spotted an elevator at the end of the hallway. Relief surged. They sprinted. Inside, they frantically pressed buttons.
However, the elevator did not ascend. It descended.
When the doors slid open, darkness engulfed them. A warm illumination emanated from the rooms that lined the passageway. Each room contains a patient.
Or, what remained of them. Hollow eyes. Mouths are sewn into perpetual cries. IVs injecting unidentified liquid.
One sufferer, scarcely more than bone, reached out and whispered.
“Run… before they take you too.”
A figure in a ragged nurse’s outfit emerged, its face veiled by shadows.
“Patients must not leave before full recovery,” the bird chirped.
Alyssa, Jackson, and Lena rushed down the hallway. The doors slammed shut behind them. The nurse’s laughter rang sharply, like shattered glass.
Jackson tripped and was pulled down by invisible hands. Alyssa and Lena freed him, but not before something marked him. There was a flaming handprint on his arm.
They staggered into the surgery room. Rusted tools glittered ominously. A guy in a mask and cloak stood ready.
“The procedure begins right now,” it muttered.
They yelled, scrambling to flee. A vent above presented an opportunity. Alyssa encouraged Lena first, then Jackson. She climbed last, hands trembling.
Crawling through the darkness, they heard voices from beneath.
“No one ever leaves Ward Six…”
Finally, they rushed into the fresh air and collapsed outside the hospital.
But Jackson’s mark pulsated. His eyes had clouded over.
“We escaped,” Alyssa said.
Jackson shakes his head.
“No… they’re in my head now.”
Weeks have passed. Jackson disappeared one night.
Rumors started spreading again.
No one escapes Ward Six.
Ever.
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