The Hospital's Darkness: A Haunting Night Shift

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Nurse Emily’s Encounter with the Woman in White

Night had fallen over St. Mary’s Hospital, and the halls were bathed in a faint, sterile glow. The hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the corridors like whispers that refused to fade. Nurse Emily Dawson adjusted her white uniform, checked her clipboard, and began her late-night shift. It was her third consecutive night working the graveyard hours, and though she had become accustomed to the silence, something about the emptiness of the hospital always made her uneasy.

She passed by the reception desk, which was deserted except for a flickering monitor. The rhythmic beeping of distant machines was the only sound breaking the silence. Emily sighed. “Another quiet night,” she murmured, forcing a small smile. The words echoed softly down the empty hallway, but the silence that followed felt heavy — like the building itself was listening.

Emily turned toward the west wing — an area rarely used anymore. Years ago, it had been the hospital’s maternity and recovery ward, but after a tragic fire claimed several lives, it was permanently closed off for renovation that never seemed to happen. Still, Emily had been assigned there tonight, since the administration wanted regular rounds to ensure everything stayed in order. Most staff refused the task, whispering of sightings and strange sounds that haunted the wing after dark.

“Just stories,” Emily muttered as she walked, pushing her medicine cart down the corridor. “I’ve got work to do, not ghost tales to chase.”

But as she approached Room 214, a cold draft blew down the hallway, raising goosebumps along her arms. The fluorescent lights flickered twice, casting long shadows on the pale walls. Emily’s footsteps slowed. She had read the maintenance report earlier that week — no issues were logged for this section. Still, she shrugged off the unease and continued, telling herself it was just old wiring.

Inside Room 214 lay Mr. Harris, one of the few remaining patients assigned to the wing. He was an elderly man with tired eyes and a frail body. Yet tonight, there was something different about him — his face was pale, and his eyes darted nervously toward the window.

“Good evening, Mr. Harris,” Emily greeted gently, setting down her clipboard. “How are you feeling tonight?”

The old man’s voice trembled. “She was here again, nurse. The woman in white.”

Emily frowned. “Who was here?”

“Her,” he whispered, pointing toward the window. “She stood there, crying. I told her to leave, but she just stared at me with those hollow eyes.”

Emily placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve had a nightmare, Mr. Harris. It’s late — your mind’s just playing tricks on you.”

But as she turned toward the window, her breath hitched. Reflected faintly in the glass was a figure — a woman in a tattered white gown, her head bowed, long hair falling over her face. Emily spun around, but the room was empty. Only the curtains moved, though the window was closed tight.

Her pulse raced. “Probably… just the light,” she whispered, forcing herself to continue her work. She checked his vitals, wrote notes on her clipboard, and hurried out of the room, unwilling to linger a moment longer.

Back in the corridor, the air felt colder. Her shoes clicked softly on the linoleum floor as she pushed the cart, the echo of her steps overlapping with something else — another pair of footsteps, faint but distinct. They followed her. Stopped when she stopped. Started when she did. Emily’s heart pounded.

She turned sharply. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Silence.

Then came the softest of sounds — a woman sobbing. The voice seemed to come from far away, yet the sound surrounded her. Emily tightened her grip on the cart, her hands trembling. Against her better judgment, she followed the sound, her flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

The sobbing grew louder as she neared the double doors at the end of the hall — doors marked with a faded sign: “Maternity Ward – Closed.” The “Do Not Enter” tape hung loose, fluttering slightly as if stirred by invisible hands. Emily hesitated, then pushed them open. A musty, stale air greeted her. The ward was dim, abandoned for years. Broken bassinets lined the walls. A wheelchair sat in the corner, rust creeping up its frame. Dust danced in the beam of her light.

Then, in the far corner, she saw her.

A woman in a torn white gown stood motionless, her long dark hair veiling her face. Her bare feet hovered an inch above the floor. The air grew icy.

Emily froze. “Who… who are you?”

The woman slowly lifted her head. Hollow eyes stared back, glistening with tears. “Where is my baby?” she whispered, her voice echoing eerily through the ward. “They took her from me. They burned us. No one came…”

Emily’s throat tightened. “I don’t understand. Please, let me help you.”

The woman tilted her head. “Help? None of you helped.” Her expression twisted, grief turning to rage. The lights flickered violently. A piercing cry filled the room, and Emily was thrown backward by an unseen force, crashing into a metal cart. Her flashlight rolled across the floor, the beam spinning wildly.

“Stop! Please!” Emily screamed, stumbling to her feet. But when she looked again, the ghost was gone.

Shaking, she grabbed her flashlight and rushed out of the ward. Her breath came in quick gasps. She reached the nurse’s station and picked up the phone — dead. The monitor on the desk buzzed with static. Then, through the intercom, a voice whispered her name.

“Emily…”

She froze. “Who’s there?”

“Come back… come find me…”

The voice dissolved into static. Emily slammed down the phone, her chest tight. This wasn’t her imagination anymore. Something — someone — was reaching out.

She turned toward the elevator, desperate to leave. The doors slid open with a low chime, but inside stood the same ghostly woman. Blood trickled down the walls, and the lights within the elevator flickered red. The woman’s eyes locked on Emily’s, unblinking.

Emily screamed and ran for the stairs, her shoes slapping against the steps as she descended. But when she reached the first floor, the lights flickered out completely. She was enveloped in darkness.

Her flashlight blinked to life, revealing a corridor she didn’t recognize — old signage, peeling wallpaper, the faint smell of smoke and ash. Time felt distorted, as if she had stepped into the hospital’s memory.

At the end of the hall, the woman appeared again, holding something in her arms — a bundle wrapped in a blanket. Emily took a cautious step forward.

“Please,” she whispered. “What do you want from me?”

The ghost’s voice trembled. “They said she was gone. That the fire took her. But I heard her cries…” She looked up, anguish twisting her face. “You wear their uniform. You keep their lies alive. You must remember.”

Emily shook her head. “I’m not them! I’m not the nurse who—”

But she stopped. Somewhere deep inside, something stirred — a memory she couldn’t quite place. The hospital records she’d once read, a report of the fire. A nurse who failed to save the maternity patients. Was that why this ward remained sealed? Had the woman died calling for help that never came?

The ghost’s tears fell silently. “Find her… find my Grace.” Her form flickered, then faded like smoke. The corridor brightened, the air shifted, and Emily found herself standing in the present-day ward again — alone.

In her hands, she clutched a small, dust-covered baby blanket. Embroidered on it, in faded pink thread, was the name “Grace.” Emily’s hands shook as she traced the letters. A faint cry echoed from somewhere deep within the hospital — soft, fleeting, like a baby’s wail carried on the wind.

Determined, Emily began searching old records in the archives room, dusty ledgers stacked high around her. Hours passed. Finally, she found it — a report dated twenty years earlier. “Patient: Anna Grace Carter. Status: Deceased in Maternity Fire.” But another line caught her eye — “Infant: Status Unknown.”

Emily gasped. The mother had perished, but the baby’s body was never found. Could that be the reason the spirit lingered?

She whispered softly, “Grace… I’ll find her. I’ll help you rest.”

As if in response, the room grew warmer, and the faint scent of lilies — fresh and pure — replaced the staleness of dust. Emily turned back toward the corridor. For a moment, she saw the woman in white again, standing at peace, cradling a baby in her arms. Their eyes met, and the woman smiled — a gentle, grateful smile — before fading into light.

Emily stood still, tears welling in her eyes. The hum of the hospital returned, soft and rhythmic. It was as if the building itself sighed with relief. The west wing, once filled with sorrow, felt lighter somehow.

As dawn painted the horizon, Emily finished her shift, the blanket still folded neatly in her bag. The memories of that night would never leave her, but neither would the warmth of knowing she had given peace to a lost soul. St. Mary’s Hospital still held its secrets, its whispers, and its shadows — but Emily was no longer afraid. She had seen the darkness. She had faced it.

And deep within the hospital’s walls, where echoes of the past lingered, a lullaby played softly — a song only Emily could hear, a promise that the restless had finally found rest.