The Night Shift at the Hospital - Horror Stories

The Night Shift at the Hospital - Horror Stories

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
I used to work night shifts as a janitor at
a mid sized hospital in Arizona. Most nights were boring,
mopping empty hallways, cleaning waiting rooms, re stocking bathrooms. I
liked the quiet, and for a while it was just
a paycheck. But there was one floor I hated, the
old surgical wing. It hadn't been used in years, ever

(00:24):
since they renovated the hospital, but for some reason it
was still kept partially powered. A couple of dim lights
always stayed on, humming, like they were struggling to stay alive.
One night, my supervisor asked me to mop down there
because the pipe had leaked. I didn't argue, but I

(00:44):
wasn't thrilled. The air felt heavier the moment I stepped
off the elevator, like I'd walked into a vacuum. As
I pushed my car down the hallway, I noticed every
door was closed except one. The operating room at the
very end was cracked open, faint lights spilling out. I
figured maybe maintenance had been in there. The weird part

(01:08):
was as I walked, I kept hearing the squeak of
shoes behind me. I'd stop, silence, start moving again, squeak squeak.
I turned around more than once, but the hallway was empty.
When I finally got to the open room, I froze.
The operating table was still in the center under a

(01:30):
flickering light, and on it was a figure covered in
a sheet. I told myself it was a dummy left behind,
maybe used for training, But when I stepped closer, the
sheet moved just slightly, like someone underneath was breathing. My
first instinct was to leave, screw the mop, screw the leak,

(01:53):
but before I could back out, I heard a whisper,
faint coming from under the sheet. It said my name.
I bolted. The mob clattered to the floor, and I
sprinted down the hallway, but the elevator wasn't where I
left it. Instead, the hall stretched further, like it was
getting longer. The faster I ran, doors started opening on

(02:17):
their own, slamming against the walls. I swear I saw
shadows slipping out of them, moving closer. Finally, the elevator
appeared again, and I slammed the button until the doors opened. Inside,
the lights flickered and the panel showed a floor that
didn't exist. B three. I only had access to ground

(02:40):
through seven, but the button for B three glowed red.
Before I could even think, the elevator started moving down
on its own. I pounded the door open button, ready
to jump, but the car stopped. The doors slid open
to pitch black, and then voices, hundreds of them, all

(03:00):
whispering overlapping like a crowd in the dark. I couldn't
see them, but I could feel them pressing in cold
hands brushed against my arms. I don't remember how I
got out. I must have blacked out, because the next
thing I knew, I was back in the janitor's closet upstairs,
sitting on the floor, my cart right next to me.

(03:23):
The clock said six twelve am. I quit the next
day the hospital. Aja rep acted like she wasn't surprised,
just nodded, said, most people don't last long on nights.
I never went back, but sometimes when I drive past
that hospital, I swear I see the lights flickering on
the windows of the old surgical wing, and I always

(03:45):
wonder who or what was under that sheet