March 24, 2025 • 29 mins
Thank you for tuning in to A Truly Haunted Podcast. Feel free to check out our sister podcasts, Bone Chilling Tales to Keep You Awake Podcast, Forever Haunted Podcast and True Whispers a True Crime Podcast. See you on the next dreadful episode. #scarystories #realstories #horrorpodcasts are #horrorpodcasts #horrorpodcast #horror #horrormovies #podcast #horrorfilms #horrorfilm #podcasts #horrormovie #film #films #movies #movie #horrorcommunity #horrorfamily #damnedmovies #moviesofthedamned #horrorobsessed #horrorfans #halloween #horrornerd #horrorfanatic #horrorpod #horrorfan #slasher #paranormal #horrorjunkie #horrorpodcaster #horrorgram #horrorcomedy #scarystories #scary #creepy #horrorstories #horror #scaryfacts #creepypasta #creepyfacts #creepystories #creepyfact #scaryfact #horrormovies #halloween #conspiracytheory #conspiracy #horrorstory #scarymovie #scaryposts #conspiracytheories #scarythreads #spooky #scaryvideo #horrorfacts #paranormal #horrorfan #horrors #scarymemes #haunted #horrorfact #ghost Warning: This podcast may be: frightening · scaring · hair-raising · terrifying · petrifying · spine-chilling · bloodcurdling · chilling · horrifying · alarming · appalling · daunting · formidable · fearsome · nerve-racking · unnerving · eerie · sinister
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:03):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:08):
Southy Nows is here with us.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
The podcast that brings you weekly true ghostly stories. In
this podcast, you'll delve into the depths of some of
the darkest paranormal experiences that cannot be defined by anything
(00:31):
less than truly haunting. Haunting. Now, sit back, relax, and
let's begin our journey into the mysterious and unknown.
Speaker 3 (00:57):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast. I'm your host, eve
As Evans. Today we have another haunting story for you.
So sit back and relax because ghost stories are.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next Wailing Drawers. The moon casts an eery glow over
the small hospital. As I pull up to the receiving bay,
the stillness of the night is palpable, and a shiver
runs down my spine. I can almost taste the cold
airs and nips at my exposed skin. It's so quiet
that even the sound of my own breathing seems to
(01:32):
echo in the darkness. After waiting for a moment and
seeing no one around, I decide to park the ambulance
and walk around to the front entrance. Hello, I call
out tentatively. As I press the buzzer on the hospital door.
My voice sounds small and insignificant. Amidst of as silence.
My heart pounds in my ears as I wait for
someone to respond. Finally, after what feels like in eternity,
(01:55):
the door buzzes and opens with a creak, and a
shoveled looking man stands before me. Dark circles under his eyes,
revealing his weariness. Hey, uh, sorry about the way, he mumbles,
rubbing his temples. Night shift's been rough. Tell me about it,
I reply with a strained laugh, trying to ease attention.
(02:15):
I'm here to drop off a body. Do you need
help getting heired to the moor? He looks grateful for
the offer, but hesitates for a moment. Yeah, if you
don't mind, I've just got my hands full tonight. His
voice cracks, slightly, betraying his exhaustion. Of course, no problem,
I assure him, following him back to the ambulance. As
we approach the vehicle, I can't help but feel a
(02:36):
growing sense of dread washing over me. This late night
delivery is somehow different from the ones I've done before,
and I can't quite put my finger on why. The
man unlocks the back door and steps aside, allowing me
to wheel out the gourney with the black bag containing
the elderly woman's remains. Thanks again, he says, his voice
barely above a whisper. I can see the relief in
his eyes as he retreats back into the hospital. As
(02:59):
I make my way down the dimly lit hallway towards
the Morgue, I can't shake the unsettling feeling that has
taken root in my chest. The air feels thick and heavy,
like it's suffocating me, and my footsteps echo ominously in
the narrow corridor. Each step feels like I'm being pulled
deeper into a dark abyss and there's no turning back now.
(03:20):
The air hangs heavy with a scent of disinfectants and death.
As I guide the gurney down the hallway, the Morge's
door looms ahead, a grim sentinel marked by a sign
in its center. My hand trembles slightly as I reach
the handle, my heart hammering against my ribs. Get a grip,
I muttered to myself, nudging open the door and wheeling
the gurney inside. My fingers fumble for the light switch,
(03:43):
and it feels so cliche when the lights flicker for
a couple of times before finally coming on, shadows pure
wet on the walls, casting an eerie ambiance throughout the room.
Half of the bulbs are burnt out or missing, but
it doesn't surprise me. Most of us doctors and nurses
here double ass maintenance staff due to this roar or
hospitals tight budget. I move to the back corner of
(04:03):
the room, where a large fridge stands, its cold metallic
surface gleaming under the dim lighting. Opening its door, I
pull out one of the rolling carts inside and position
it next to the gurney. Transferring bodies is always easier
with the second pair of hands, but there's no one
else around now. Taking a deep breath, I grip one
end of the black bag and start dragging it onto
(04:23):
the metal cart. That's when I hear it, a woman's voice,
barely audible, whispering my name from somewhere behind me. Startled,
I spin around, almost toppling over Missus Jones' body onto
the floor. My heart races, but there's nobody there. The
sound reverberates in my mind, hauntingly clear, despite being alone
in this morgue. A shiver snakes down my spine, while
(04:45):
goosebumps prick at my skin. Okay, focus, I tell myself,
trying to shake off the creepy scents dread enveloping me,
turning back to Missus Jones. But just as my hand
grazes her bag, I hear my name again. This time
it's coming from the darkest corner of the room, where
the shadows seem to writhe and twist into grotesque forms.
Fear nips at the edge of my sanity, but I
(05:06):
forced myself through the disembodied voice. All I want is
to get out of this god forsaken room. My hands
tremble as I finished transferring Missus Jones onto the cart,
doing my best to block out the insidious whispers that
seemed to close in on me from every direction. Enough,
I his pushing away the irrational terror awing at me.
You're a paramedic, You've dealt with worse than this. With
(05:28):
a heaving breath, I managed to slide the old woman's
body into the refrigerator. My muscles tense from the effort.
The second I shut the door, a blood curdling scream
erupts from inside, freezing me in place. My mind races
with questions, but I know there is no one inside
that fridge. I forced myself to believe it's just my
imgenesian playing tricks on me. Jim out, I murmur under
(05:50):
my breath, my hands trembling as I grabbed the gurney
and push it through the doorway and into the hallway.
Panic courses through my veins, and I can't help but
spread away from the room. The left side will of
the gurney lift off the ground due to the angle
and speed of which I'm running. I can't escape fast
enough from the horrors lurking within the morgue. I know
I've left the lights on, but there's no way in
hell I'm going back in there right now. Sweat trickles
(06:12):
down my temples and my chest heaves. As I reached
the ambulance, feeling like I've run an entire marathon, I
hastily load the gurney inside, my hands slick with perspiration.
Pulling round to the front of the building, I jabbed
the buzzer repeatedly, desperate for someone to let me in.
The doctor finally appears, looking weary and pale as iver
keunt my terrifying experience. I notice the worry passing over
(06:32):
his face. He does now right say he believes me
that he doesn't dispute my claims either. It makes me
wonder if there's something more sinister happening in this hospital
at night, something even he might be aware of. Here,
he says, quietly, signing the sheet to take possession of
the woman's remains. Just be careful out there, trust me,
(06:53):
I will, I replied, my voice shaky. I speed out
of the parking lot, eager to put as much distance
between myself and that hospital as possible. I'm not sure
what happened in the work, but it's something that stuck
with me ever since. Even after returning the hospital a
few times afterwards, including at night, I never experienced anything
quite like that again. But every now and then, when
(07:14):
I'm alone in the dark, I can still hear that
one scream echoing in my ears, sending shivers down my spine.
Chapter three, Bloody Mess. I'll never forget the story he
told me, Tyler, the man who used to run the
morgue at that old, now abandoned hospital in town. As
(07:35):
a doctor, I've always been careful with my medical tools,
even borderline obsessive. You can't afford to lose anything during
an operation or autopsy. Not only could it be dangerous
for the patient, but it could also lead to lawsuits
or losing your license. Remember that gunshop, victim Tyler asked
me one day, his eyes glazed over, as if he's
reliving a memory, the one with the fiddle wound to
(07:58):
the chest. Let me tell you what happened when I
went back to work the next morning. As he told
the story, I could feel the chills of the morgue's
refrigerated room and almost taste the stale air. I imagined him
entering the dim, lilt basement, the sound of the elevator
humming behind him. He approached the door, slipping the key
(08:18):
into the lock and turning it with a soft click.
Something felt off, he recalled, the unease clear in his voice.
When I opened the door, this metallic smell hit me
like a wave. It was unmistakable blood. Tyler described, flipping
(08:39):
on the lights, recoiling at the sight before him. The
floor wasn't just covered in blood, It was smeared with
red footprints, as if someone had paced around the room barefoot.
His stomach churned at the thought. As doctors, we've all
stepped in bodily fluids, but we wear shoes. This person
(08:59):
They seemed to unfazed by the blood, continuing to walk
around as if it were completely normal. I would do
something like this, I wondered aloud, feeling a shiver run
down my spine. Your guess is as good as mine,
he replied, shaking his head. But that's not even the
strangest part. He went on to describe the trail of
(09:20):
footprints leading away from a wall, the same wall where
the refrigerated lockers held the bodies of deceased patience. The
row of lockers where the Prince had begun contained only
one body, that of the gunshot victim he'd been assigned
to examine. Nothing could have prepared me for what I
found in there, he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
(09:41):
The white shoe was pristine, no blood or anything out
of the ordinary. But then I saw the scalpel. Someone
had plunged it into the center of the man's chest,
lodging it into his breastbone. There was no sign of bleeding,
of course, his heart had already stopped when I put
him in there. Why why would anyone do this? I
(10:03):
shook my head, unable to find an answer. We sat
in silence. The weight of his story hanging heavy in
the air, and though I knew I should feel terrified,
a small part of me couldn't help but wonder who
or what was responsible for such a chilling scene. Then
(10:23):
I stared at the bloody footprints on the floor, my
heart pounding in my chest. The scent of metallic blood
fills my nostrils, making me want a wretch. But I
can't look away. How did this happen? Who's responsible? Maybe
it was an accident. I'm trying to rationalize the scene
before me, an accident. A nearby nurse scoffs. You think
(10:47):
someone walked around barefoot and blood and didn't notice? Then,
what do you suggest? I snap, feeling defensive and unnerveed.
I don't know, she says, shaking her head off. Here
I consider the possibilities. Someone could have done a procedure
and left without cleaning up, but that seems unlikely. Maybe
(11:09):
someone from the mental wing had found their way down
here and disturbed one of the remains. It's a stretch,
but not impossible. As I followed the trail of prints,
I noticed they lead directly to the refrigerated locker where
I had stored the gunshot victim just yesterday. Swallowing hard,
I approached the locker and hesitantly open it, bracing myself
(11:29):
for the worst. The white sheet covering the body is
completely devoid of red markings. My eyes lock onto the
area of the drape which covers the man's chest. It's
pressed up in a peculiar way, as if something had
been placed there. Look at this, I whispered the nurse,
who's now standing beside me, as I pulled back the
(11:49):
sheet revealing the body. I'm shocked if I know marks
or blood that hadn't been there the day before. However,
there's something undeniably unsettling. The scalpel has been plunged into
the center of the man's chest, latched firmly into his breastbone.
I would do this, the nurse asks, her voice barely audible.
(12:12):
I don't know, I admit my hands trembling, but we
need to find out. It'd be some sort of sick chalk,
she suggests, her eyes wide with fear. Maybe, I say,
trying to suppress the growing dread within me, But I
can't shake the feeling that there's something more to this,
something sinister. We stand in silence for a moment, the
(12:38):
chilling atmosphere of the more going heavy on our shoulders.
As much as I want to dismiss the scene before
us as a twisted braink or an unfortunate coincidence, I
can't ignore it, the gnawing sensation that there's a darker
force at play here, when that's far beyond our understanding.
Let's report this to security, I suggest, my voice wavering.
(13:03):
Maybe they can help us figure out what happened. Good idea.
The nurse agrees, her face pale. I'll go talk to
Sputnik while you do that. As we exit the morgue,
the door creaks shut behind us, ceiling in the grizzly
scene and its haunting secrets. But even as we walk away,
I know that the image of the bloodied footprints and
the scalpel lodged in the man's chest will remain etched
(13:25):
in my memory, a chilling reminder of the unknown terrors
that lurk in the shadows. I can't shake the image
of the bloodied footprints and the scalpel lodged in the
man's chest as I make my way down the sterile hallway,
my footsteps echoing in the empty space. The nurse from
earlier had gone to inform our superior about the disturbing discovery,
leaving me alone with the task of seeking answers from
(13:47):
security doctor Matthews. A voice calls out as I approach
the security office, What brings you here this early? Hi, Steve,
I reply, trying to remintain, trying to maintain steady tone
despite the unknees gnawing at me. I was wondering if
I could take a look at the footage from last
night outside the morgue. Sure thing, he says, his brow
(14:09):
furrowing with curiosity. Is there something wrong, maybe, I say, hesitantly,
not wanting to divulge too much information just yet. I
just need to check on something, all right? Then, Steve nods,
unlocking the door and leading me inside. The room is
dimly lit, filled with monitors displaying various locations throughout the hospital.
(14:30):
He pulls up the desired footage on one of them,
the timeline showing the night before. Let's see, he mutters,
fast forwarding the recording to the moment I left the morgue.
The playback is sped up and we watch intently, searching
for any sign of activity near the door. The hours
ticked by on the screen, but no one appears. I
feel my chest tightening, anxiety mounting with every passing minute.
(14:54):
If no one went in, how did it happen? Is
there something supernatural at play? I push those thoughts aside,
focusing on the task at hand. Wait, I tell Steve,
placing a hand on his arm. Can you rewind that?
He obliges, returning the footage to normal speed. As the
image of myself appears on the screen entering the Morgue
(15:16):
this morning, as the door closes behind me, I see
something that makes my heart race, A faint, ghostly figure
of a man standing just outside the morgue entrance. Did
you see that? I asked Steve, my voice shaking. See what,
he replies, his eyes glued to the screen. Right there,
I pointed the figure, which has now vanished into thin air.
(15:38):
There was someone there, Dr Matthews, Steve says, gently, placing
a hand on my shoulder. I've watched this footage countless
times and I've never seen anyone there. Maybe you're just
seeing things, maybe, I agree, trying to convince myself that
it's all in my head. But as we continue to
(15:59):
watch the footage, the image of the ghostly figure lingers
in my mind, feeding the growing dread within me, and
deep down, I can't shake the feeling that there's something
more to this, something far beyond our understanding. Cold sweat
trickles down my forehead as I leave the security office,
my mind raising with questions and fear. The sterile hospital
(16:19):
lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, heightening the sense
of dread that fills me. The scent of antiseptic in
the air does nothing to calm my nerves, only serving
as a cruel reminder of the gruesome scene I'd encountered earlier,
Doctor Matthews. A voice calls out, breaking my suffocating silence.
I turned to see Jane, one of the nurses, approaching
(16:41):
me with concern in her eyes. Is everything all right?
You look shaken? I forced a weak smile, trying to
hide my inner turmoil. Just a long day, Jane, nothing
to worry about, Are you sure? She asks, clearly, not convinced.
You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you. Thanks,
but I'm fine, I assure her, though my own words
(17:03):
sound hollow to me. I just need some rest. I
better good night and continue down the hallway, the weight
of the unanswered questions bearing down on me. As I
retrace my steps back to the morgue, my thoughts are
consumed by the ghostly figure from the security camera. Could
it be the spirit of the dead man seeking vengeance
for his untimely death, or perhaps a malevolent energy wreaking
(17:24):
havoc within the hospital. The metallic smell of blood grows
stronger as I approach some mork and my heart pounds
in my chest. My hands tremble as I unlock the door,
bracing myself for whatever horrors await me inside. This has
to be a joke, I mutter to myself, trying to
shake off the terror that threatens to overwhelm me. There
has to be a rational explanation for all this. But
(17:47):
as I step into the morgue, the sight of the
bloody footprints in the scalpel lodge in the man's chest
sends a shiver down my spine. I can't deny it
any longer. Something unnatural is at work here. I whisper,
stealing myself for what must be done. Fit's answers. You want,
the answers you shall get. I carefully remove the scalpel
(18:09):
from the corpse, my hands steadied despite the fear gripping
my heart, holding the instrument with both hands, I look
around the room, addressing the unseen presence I can feel
lurking in the shadows. Is this what you wanted, I asked,
my voice trembling slightly. Did you want me to see
your hand he work, to know that you were here?
(18:29):
Silence answers me, but the air in the room feels
charged with tension and malice. I shudder, feeling as though
icy fingers are tracing patterns on my skin. Show yourself,
I demanded my voice. Stronger. Now, if you have a
message for me or anyone else, then reveal yourself and
let us be done with this. The morgue remains silent
at the sense of dread only grows. I can taste
(18:52):
the metallic tang of blood in my mouth and the
chilling touch on my skin. Intensive eyes, Please, I plead,
my bravs evaporating, tell me what you want, But there
is no response, only the oppressive silence of the morgue,
the stense of death and Nanna explained horror that has
shaken me to my core. As I stand there, scalpel
(19:14):
in hand and terror clawing at my heart, I can't
help a wonder if I will ever find the answers
I seek, or if the truth behind this chilling mystery
will forever remain locked within these haunted walls.
Speaker 5 (19:25):
Young cover long buried family secrets that intertwined with Eliza's life.
The weight of these truths feels heavy on my shoulders,
and I realize that her sadness is not just her own,
but a reflection of the struggles that have haunted my
family for generations. Is this why you're trapped here? I question,
my hands trembling. Are you bound to the mirror because
(19:49):
of these secrets? Perhaps? She murmurs, her expression distant, as
if lost in thought. The mirror has become a symbol
of the secrets we carry, a prison born from our
fears and regrets. Then we need to release those secrets.
I declare, determination flaring within me. We need to set
(20:10):
you free. Eliza. Thank you, she says, her eyes welling
up with tears. I never thought anyone would understand my pain,
let alone help me heal it. As we stand in
the attic, surrounded by the eery glow of the candles
and the haunting whispers of the past, I know that
our bond transcends time. And space. Together, we will confront
(20:33):
the darkness that binds us and find a way to
mend the wounds etched into our souls. A shiver runs
down my spine as I stand alone in the darkened attic.
The air is heavy with a sense of anticipation, and
my determination to confront the source of Eliza's pain courses
through me like an electric current. The ghost of betrayal
(20:54):
looms over us both, a shadow that has kept her
trapped for so long, Eliza say softly, feeling her spirit
rally behind me, her strength merging with mine. We can
do this together. We can break these chains. Thank you,
she replies, her voice barely audible, yet filled with gratitude.
(21:15):
I have faith in you. The dim light from the
candles flickers around the room, casting Easie's shadows on the walls.
My heart raises as I inhale, deeply, gathering the courage
to face the darkness head on. Show yourself, I call
out into the gloom, my voice echoing through the attic,
why have you held Eliza captive all this time? As
(21:37):
if summoned by my words, the air crackles with energy.
I feel Eliza's presence beside me, her own resolve, emboldening
my voice. Together we challenge the darkness that binds her,
pushing back against the forces that seek to keep her hidden.
Answer me, I demand, my anger boiling to the surface.
Why are you doing this? What do you gain from her?
Speaker 4 (21:59):
Tour meant?
Speaker 5 (22:01):
A low, guttural laugh echoes around us, sending chills down
my spine. The very essence of betrayal materializes before the mirror,
its form shifting and twisting like smoke. This malicious grin
sends fear coursing through my veins, but I refuse to
back down. Her pain feeds me, It hisses, its voice
(22:23):
dripping with malice. She is bound to me, just as
your family has always been enough, I shout, my voice,
trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. You have
no power over us anymore? Is that so? The spirit taunts,
its laughter, mocking my resolve. You think you can break
(22:46):
a connection forged in blood and sacrifice, watch me? I reply,
My eyes locked onto the sinister figure, With Eliza's spirit
beside me, I reach out to the mirror, my hand
trembling as it makes contact with the cold glass. Release her.
I cry, my voice filled with conviction. The air around
(23:08):
us vibrates with tension, and I can feel the darkness
struggling against our combined strength. Never, the spirit roars, its
form writhing before us. Let her go, Eliza shouts her
own voice, joining mine in defiance. Together we push back
against the darkness, forcing it to relinquish its hold in her.
(23:30):
As we stand our ground, the very air seems to
shimmer and pulse with energy. The darkness shrieks in agony
as it dissipates, leaving behind nothing but the silence of
the attic. We've done it. We've challenged the shadows and
emerged victorious. Thank you, Eliza whispers, her eyes brimming with tears.
(23:51):
I finally free. Remember, I tell her, my voice, still
shaking from the intensity of our confrontation. You are never
alone in this. We fought together, true, she agrees, her
gaze softening, And I'll never forget the one who helped
free me from my chains. As we stand side by side,
(24:14):
the weight of our ordeal slowly lifting, I can't help
but feel a sense of pride in what we've accomplished.
We faced the darkness head on, and together we conquered it.
The mirror quivers glass, rippling like water disturbed by a stone.
My pulse races in tandem with the pulsating energy that
(24:35):
surrounds us and I feel Eliza's spirit rise, breaking free
from her sorrowful chains. A brilliant explosion of light fills
the dusty attic, blinding me for an instant. As my
vision clears, I see Eliza standing before me, no longer
a mere reflection, but a tangible presence. Her sadness has evaporated,
(24:57):
replaced by a radiant smile that lights up up the
dim room. She takes a tentative step forward. Her figure
now is solid and real. Thank you, she breathes, her
voice melodious and filled with gratitude. The air seems to
hum with the echoes of her words, sending shivers down
my spine. It was my pleasure, I reply, Still awe
(25:21):
struck by the transformation we've wrought, I reach out to
touch her shoulder, expecting my hand to pass through her
as it had done countless times before. Instead, I find
warmth and solidity, proof of her new found freedom. Is
it really over? I ask, my voice barely more than
a whisper. Yes, Eliza replies, her eyes shining with joy.
(25:48):
Thanks to you, A wave of warmth washes over me,
and I know that our combined efforts have fulfilled my
promise to help her. Our connection, once forged by shared sorrow,
will endure as a testament to empathy and courage. Remember,
I tell her, my heart swelling with pride, You were
(26:09):
never alone in this. We fought together, and I'll never
forget the one who helped free me from my chains,
She says, gaze never leaving mine with a final embrace.
We part ways, two souls forever changed by their journey
into the past. As I stand before the now ordinary mirror,
(26:29):
I say not only Eliza's triumph, but my own reflections
of strength and determination. I take one last look around
the attic, which now feels empty and devoid of the
energy that once consumed it. My connection with Eliza remains
a bond forged through empathy and courage, an unforgettable adventure
that has irrevocably changed us both. With a heart full
(26:53):
of hope, I descend the creaky stairs, leaving the attic behind,
the knowledge that I have not only set alone of free,
but discovered a part of myself, and the process fills
me with a new find sense of purpose. As I
step into my present life, forever altered by the past.
I'm ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, armed with
(27:15):
the memory of the girl who dared to reach beyond
the veil and the spirit you found her way home.
Speaker 2 (27:32):
Thank you for tuning in to a truly haunted podcast.
Don't forget to check out our Patreon page for bonus content,
exclusive episodes, and much more. Stay tuned to next week
for a whole new haunting episode.
Speaker 1 (27:57):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Seven's and James Curo comes a delightfully haunting podcast,
Forever Haunted. Forever Haunted. Every Saturday, James and Eve delve
into haunted places, artifacts, urban legends, paranormal happenings, and much more.
(28:25):
Every Thursday, join James and Eve for True Crime Thursday,
where they delve into a deviously sinister true crime story
to chill your bones. Chill your bones, Stay tuned to
Forever Haunted podcast, available on all podcasting networks.
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast.
Speaker 2 (00:08):
Southy Nows is here with us.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
The podcast that brings you weekly true ghostly stories. In
this podcast, you'll delve into the depths of some of
the darkest paranormal experiences that cannot be defined by anything
(00:31):
less than truly haunting. Haunting. Now, sit back, relax, and
let's begin our journey into the mysterious and unknown.
Speaker 3 (00:57):
Welcome to a truly haunted podcast. I'm your host, eve
As Evans. Today we have another haunting story for you.
So sit back and relax because ghost stories are.
Speaker 4 (01:10):
Next Wailing Drawers. The moon casts an eery glow over
the small hospital. As I pull up to the receiving bay,
the stillness of the night is palpable, and a shiver
runs down my spine. I can almost taste the cold
airs and nips at my exposed skin. It's so quiet
that even the sound of my own breathing seems to
(01:32):
echo in the darkness. After waiting for a moment and
seeing no one around, I decide to park the ambulance
and walk around to the front entrance. Hello, I call
out tentatively. As I press the buzzer on the hospital door.
My voice sounds small and insignificant. Amidst of as silence.
My heart pounds in my ears as I wait for
someone to respond. Finally, after what feels like in eternity,
(01:55):
the door buzzes and opens with a creak, and a
shoveled looking man stands before me. Dark circles under his eyes,
revealing his weariness. Hey, uh, sorry about the way, he mumbles,
rubbing his temples. Night shift's been rough. Tell me about it,
I reply with a strained laugh, trying to ease attention.
(02:15):
I'm here to drop off a body. Do you need
help getting heired to the moor? He looks grateful for
the offer, but hesitates for a moment. Yeah, if you
don't mind, I've just got my hands full tonight. His
voice cracks, slightly, betraying his exhaustion. Of course, no problem,
I assure him, following him back to the ambulance. As
we approach the vehicle, I can't help but feel a
(02:36):
growing sense of dread washing over me. This late night
delivery is somehow different from the ones I've done before,
and I can't quite put my finger on why. The
man unlocks the back door and steps aside, allowing me
to wheel out the gourney with the black bag containing
the elderly woman's remains. Thanks again, he says, his voice
barely above a whisper. I can see the relief in
his eyes as he retreats back into the hospital. As
(02:59):
I make my way down the dimly lit hallway towards
the Morgue, I can't shake the unsettling feeling that has
taken root in my chest. The air feels thick and heavy,
like it's suffocating me, and my footsteps echo ominously in
the narrow corridor. Each step feels like I'm being pulled
deeper into a dark abyss and there's no turning back now.
(03:20):
The air hangs heavy with a scent of disinfectants and death.
As I guide the gurney down the hallway, the Morge's
door looms ahead, a grim sentinel marked by a sign
in its center. My hand trembles slightly as I reach
the handle, my heart hammering against my ribs. Get a grip,
I muttered to myself, nudging open the door and wheeling
the gurney inside. My fingers fumble for the light switch,
(03:43):
and it feels so cliche when the lights flicker for
a couple of times before finally coming on, shadows pure
wet on the walls, casting an eerie ambiance throughout the room.
Half of the bulbs are burnt out or missing, but
it doesn't surprise me. Most of us doctors and nurses
here double ass maintenance staff due to this roar or
hospitals tight budget. I move to the back corner of
(04:03):
the room, where a large fridge stands, its cold metallic
surface gleaming under the dim lighting. Opening its door, I
pull out one of the rolling carts inside and position
it next to the gurney. Transferring bodies is always easier
with the second pair of hands, but there's no one
else around now. Taking a deep breath, I grip one
end of the black bag and start dragging it onto
(04:23):
the metal cart. That's when I hear it, a woman's voice,
barely audible, whispering my name from somewhere behind me. Startled,
I spin around, almost toppling over Missus Jones' body onto
the floor. My heart races, but there's nobody there. The
sound reverberates in my mind, hauntingly clear, despite being alone
in this morgue. A shiver snakes down my spine, while
(04:45):
goosebumps prick at my skin. Okay, focus, I tell myself,
trying to shake off the creepy scents dread enveloping me,
turning back to Missus Jones. But just as my hand
grazes her bag, I hear my name again. This time
it's coming from the darkest corner of the room, where
the shadows seem to writhe and twist into grotesque forms.
Fear nips at the edge of my sanity, but I
(05:06):
forced myself through the disembodied voice. All I want is
to get out of this god forsaken room. My hands
tremble as I finished transferring Missus Jones onto the cart,
doing my best to block out the insidious whispers that
seemed to close in on me from every direction. Enough,
I his pushing away the irrational terror awing at me.
You're a paramedic, You've dealt with worse than this. With
(05:28):
a heaving breath, I managed to slide the old woman's
body into the refrigerator. My muscles tense from the effort.
The second I shut the door, a blood curdling scream
erupts from inside, freezing me in place. My mind races
with questions, but I know there is no one inside
that fridge. I forced myself to believe it's just my
imgenesian playing tricks on me. Jim out, I murmur under
(05:50):
my breath, my hands trembling as I grabbed the gurney
and push it through the doorway and into the hallway.
Panic courses through my veins, and I can't help but
spread away from the room. The left side will of
the gurney lift off the ground due to the angle
and speed of which I'm running. I can't escape fast
enough from the horrors lurking within the morgue. I know
I've left the lights on, but there's no way in
hell I'm going back in there right now. Sweat trickles
(06:12):
down my temples and my chest heaves. As I reached
the ambulance, feeling like I've run an entire marathon, I
hastily load the gurney inside, my hands slick with perspiration.
Pulling round to the front of the building, I jabbed
the buzzer repeatedly, desperate for someone to let me in.
The doctor finally appears, looking weary and pale as iver
keunt my terrifying experience. I notice the worry passing over
(06:32):
his face. He does now right say he believes me
that he doesn't dispute my claims either. It makes me
wonder if there's something more sinister happening in this hospital
at night, something even he might be aware of. Here,
he says, quietly, signing the sheet to take possession of
the woman's remains. Just be careful out there, trust me,
(06:53):
I will, I replied, my voice shaky. I speed out
of the parking lot, eager to put as much distance
between myself and that hospital as possible. I'm not sure
what happened in the work, but it's something that stuck
with me ever since. Even after returning the hospital a
few times afterwards, including at night, I never experienced anything
quite like that again. But every now and then, when
(07:14):
I'm alone in the dark, I can still hear that
one scream echoing in my ears, sending shivers down my spine.
Chapter three, Bloody Mess. I'll never forget the story he
told me, Tyler, the man who used to run the
morgue at that old, now abandoned hospital in town. As
(07:35):
a doctor, I've always been careful with my medical tools,
even borderline obsessive. You can't afford to lose anything during
an operation or autopsy. Not only could it be dangerous
for the patient, but it could also lead to lawsuits
or losing your license. Remember that gunshop, victim Tyler asked
me one day, his eyes glazed over, as if he's
reliving a memory, the one with the fiddle wound to
(07:58):
the chest. Let me tell you what happened when I
went back to work the next morning. As he told
the story, I could feel the chills of the morgue's
refrigerated room and almost taste the stale air. I imagined him
entering the dim, lilt basement, the sound of the elevator
humming behind him. He approached the door, slipping the key
(08:18):
into the lock and turning it with a soft click.
Something felt off, he recalled, the unease clear in his voice.
When I opened the door, this metallic smell hit me
like a wave. It was unmistakable blood. Tyler described, flipping
(08:39):
on the lights, recoiling at the sight before him. The
floor wasn't just covered in blood, It was smeared with
red footprints, as if someone had paced around the room barefoot.
His stomach churned at the thought. As doctors, we've all
stepped in bodily fluids, but we wear shoes. This person
(08:59):
They seemed to unfazed by the blood, continuing to walk
around as if it were completely normal. I would do
something like this, I wondered aloud, feeling a shiver run
down my spine. Your guess is as good as mine,
he replied, shaking his head. But that's not even the
strangest part. He went on to describe the trail of
(09:20):
footprints leading away from a wall, the same wall where
the refrigerated lockers held the bodies of deceased patience. The
row of lockers where the Prince had begun contained only
one body, that of the gunshot victim he'd been assigned
to examine. Nothing could have prepared me for what I
found in there, he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
(09:41):
The white shoe was pristine, no blood or anything out
of the ordinary. But then I saw the scalpel. Someone
had plunged it into the center of the man's chest,
lodging it into his breastbone. There was no sign of bleeding,
of course, his heart had already stopped when I put
him in there. Why why would anyone do this? I
(10:03):
shook my head, unable to find an answer. We sat
in silence. The weight of his story hanging heavy in
the air, and though I knew I should feel terrified,
a small part of me couldn't help but wonder who
or what was responsible for such a chilling scene. Then
(10:23):
I stared at the bloody footprints on the floor, my
heart pounding in my chest. The scent of metallic blood
fills my nostrils, making me want a wretch. But I
can't look away. How did this happen? Who's responsible? Maybe
it was an accident. I'm trying to rationalize the scene
before me, an accident. A nearby nurse scoffs. You think
(10:47):
someone walked around barefoot and blood and didn't notice? Then,
what do you suggest? I snap, feeling defensive and unnerveed.
I don't know, she says, shaking her head off. Here
I consider the possibilities. Someone could have done a procedure
and left without cleaning up, but that seems unlikely. Maybe
(11:09):
someone from the mental wing had found their way down
here and disturbed one of the remains. It's a stretch,
but not impossible. As I followed the trail of prints,
I noticed they lead directly to the refrigerated locker where
I had stored the gunshot victim just yesterday. Swallowing hard,
I approached the locker and hesitantly open it, bracing myself
(11:29):
for the worst. The white sheet covering the body is
completely devoid of red markings. My eyes lock onto the
area of the drape which covers the man's chest. It's
pressed up in a peculiar way, as if something had
been placed there. Look at this, I whispered the nurse,
who's now standing beside me, as I pulled back the
(11:49):
sheet revealing the body. I'm shocked if I know marks
or blood that hadn't been there the day before. However,
there's something undeniably unsettling. The scalpel has been plunged into
the center of the man's chest, latched firmly into his breastbone.
I would do this, the nurse asks, her voice barely audible.
(12:12):
I don't know, I admit my hands trembling, but we
need to find out. It'd be some sort of sick chalk,
she suggests, her eyes wide with fear. Maybe, I say,
trying to suppress the growing dread within me, But I
can't shake the feeling that there's something more to this,
something sinister. We stand in silence for a moment, the
(12:38):
chilling atmosphere of the more going heavy on our shoulders.
As much as I want to dismiss the scene before
us as a twisted braink or an unfortunate coincidence, I
can't ignore it, the gnawing sensation that there's a darker
force at play here, when that's far beyond our understanding.
Let's report this to security, I suggest, my voice wavering.
(13:03):
Maybe they can help us figure out what happened. Good idea.
The nurse agrees, her face pale. I'll go talk to
Sputnik while you do that. As we exit the morgue,
the door creaks shut behind us, ceiling in the grizzly
scene and its haunting secrets. But even as we walk away,
I know that the image of the bloodied footprints and
the scalpel lodged in the man's chest will remain etched
(13:25):
in my memory, a chilling reminder of the unknown terrors
that lurk in the shadows. I can't shake the image
of the bloodied footprints and the scalpel lodged in the
man's chest as I make my way down the sterile hallway,
my footsteps echoing in the empty space. The nurse from
earlier had gone to inform our superior about the disturbing discovery,
leaving me alone with the task of seeking answers from
(13:47):
security doctor Matthews. A voice calls out as I approach
the security office, What brings you here this early? Hi, Steve,
I reply, trying to remintain, trying to maintain steady tone
despite the unknees gnawing at me. I was wondering if
I could take a look at the footage from last
night outside the morgue. Sure thing, he says, his brow
(14:09):
furrowing with curiosity. Is there something wrong, maybe, I say, hesitantly,
not wanting to divulge too much information just yet. I
just need to check on something, all right? Then, Steve nods,
unlocking the door and leading me inside. The room is
dimly lit, filled with monitors displaying various locations throughout the hospital.
(14:30):
He pulls up the desired footage on one of them,
the timeline showing the night before. Let's see, he mutters,
fast forwarding the recording to the moment I left the morgue.
The playback is sped up and we watch intently, searching
for any sign of activity near the door. The hours
ticked by on the screen, but no one appears. I
feel my chest tightening, anxiety mounting with every passing minute.
(14:54):
If no one went in, how did it happen? Is
there something supernatural at play? I push those thoughts aside,
focusing on the task at hand. Wait, I tell Steve,
placing a hand on his arm. Can you rewind that?
He obliges, returning the footage to normal speed. As the
image of myself appears on the screen entering the Morgue
(15:16):
this morning, as the door closes behind me, I see
something that makes my heart race, A faint, ghostly figure
of a man standing just outside the morgue entrance. Did
you see that? I asked Steve, my voice shaking. See what,
he replies, his eyes glued to the screen. Right there,
I pointed the figure, which has now vanished into thin air.
(15:38):
There was someone there, Dr Matthews, Steve says, gently, placing
a hand on my shoulder. I've watched this footage countless
times and I've never seen anyone there. Maybe you're just
seeing things, maybe, I agree, trying to convince myself that
it's all in my head. But as we continue to
(15:59):
watch the footage, the image of the ghostly figure lingers
in my mind, feeding the growing dread within me, and
deep down, I can't shake the feeling that there's something
more to this, something far beyond our understanding. Cold sweat
trickles down my forehead as I leave the security office,
my mind raising with questions and fear. The sterile hospital
(16:19):
lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, heightening the sense
of dread that fills me. The scent of antiseptic in
the air does nothing to calm my nerves, only serving
as a cruel reminder of the gruesome scene I'd encountered earlier,
Doctor Matthews. A voice calls out, breaking my suffocating silence.
I turned to see Jane, one of the nurses, approaching
(16:41):
me with concern in her eyes. Is everything all right?
You look shaken? I forced a weak smile, trying to
hide my inner turmoil. Just a long day, Jane, nothing
to worry about, Are you sure? She asks, clearly, not convinced.
You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you. Thanks,
but I'm fine, I assure her, though my own words
(17:03):
sound hollow to me. I just need some rest. I
better good night and continue down the hallway, the weight
of the unanswered questions bearing down on me. As I
retrace my steps back to the morgue, my thoughts are
consumed by the ghostly figure from the security camera. Could
it be the spirit of the dead man seeking vengeance
for his untimely death, or perhaps a malevolent energy wreaking
(17:24):
havoc within the hospital. The metallic smell of blood grows
stronger as I approach some mork and my heart pounds
in my chest. My hands tremble as I unlock the door,
bracing myself for whatever horrors await me inside. This has
to be a joke, I mutter to myself, trying to
shake off the terror that threatens to overwhelm me. There
has to be a rational explanation for all this. But
(17:47):
as I step into the morgue, the sight of the
bloody footprints in the scalpel lodge in the man's chest
sends a shiver down my spine. I can't deny it
any longer. Something unnatural is at work here. I whisper,
stealing myself for what must be done. Fit's answers. You want,
the answers you shall get. I carefully remove the scalpel
(18:09):
from the corpse, my hands steadied despite the fear gripping
my heart, holding the instrument with both hands, I look
around the room, addressing the unseen presence I can feel
lurking in the shadows. Is this what you wanted, I asked,
my voice trembling slightly. Did you want me to see
your hand he work, to know that you were here?
(18:29):
Silence answers me, but the air in the room feels
charged with tension and malice. I shudder, feeling as though
icy fingers are tracing patterns on my skin. Show yourself,
I demanded my voice. Stronger. Now, if you have a
message for me or anyone else, then reveal yourself and
let us be done with this. The morgue remains silent
at the sense of dread only grows. I can taste
(18:52):
the metallic tang of blood in my mouth and the
chilling touch on my skin. Intensive eyes, Please, I plead,
my bravs evaporating, tell me what you want, But there
is no response, only the oppressive silence of the morgue,
the stense of death and Nanna explained horror that has
shaken me to my core. As I stand there, scalpel
(19:14):
in hand and terror clawing at my heart, I can't
help a wonder if I will ever find the answers
I seek, or if the truth behind this chilling mystery
will forever remain locked within these haunted walls.
Speaker 5 (19:25):
Young cover long buried family secrets that intertwined with Eliza's life.
The weight of these truths feels heavy on my shoulders,
and I realize that her sadness is not just her own,
but a reflection of the struggles that have haunted my
family for generations. Is this why you're trapped here? I question,
my hands trembling. Are you bound to the mirror because
(19:49):
of these secrets? Perhaps? She murmurs, her expression distant, as
if lost in thought. The mirror has become a symbol
of the secrets we carry, a prison born from our
fears and regrets. Then we need to release those secrets.
I declare, determination flaring within me. We need to set
(20:10):
you free. Eliza. Thank you, she says, her eyes welling
up with tears. I never thought anyone would understand my pain,
let alone help me heal it. As we stand in
the attic, surrounded by the eery glow of the candles
and the haunting whispers of the past, I know that
our bond transcends time. And space. Together, we will confront
(20:33):
the darkness that binds us and find a way to
mend the wounds etched into our souls. A shiver runs
down my spine as I stand alone in the darkened attic.
The air is heavy with a sense of anticipation, and
my determination to confront the source of Eliza's pain courses
through me like an electric current. The ghost of betrayal
(20:54):
looms over us both, a shadow that has kept her
trapped for so long, Eliza say softly, feeling her spirit
rally behind me, her strength merging with mine. We can
do this together. We can break these chains. Thank you,
she replies, her voice barely audible, yet filled with gratitude.
(21:15):
I have faith in you. The dim light from the
candles flickers around the room, casting Easie's shadows on the walls.
My heart raises as I inhale, deeply, gathering the courage
to face the darkness head on. Show yourself, I call
out into the gloom, my voice echoing through the attic,
why have you held Eliza captive all this time? As
(21:37):
if summoned by my words, the air crackles with energy.
I feel Eliza's presence beside me, her own resolve, emboldening
my voice. Together we challenge the darkness that binds her,
pushing back against the forces that seek to keep her hidden.
Answer me, I demand, my anger boiling to the surface.
Why are you doing this? What do you gain from her?
Speaker 4 (21:59):
Tour meant?
Speaker 5 (22:01):
A low, guttural laugh echoes around us, sending chills down
my spine. The very essence of betrayal materializes before the mirror,
its form shifting and twisting like smoke. This malicious grin
sends fear coursing through my veins, but I refuse to
back down. Her pain feeds me, It hisses, its voice
(22:23):
dripping with malice. She is bound to me, just as
your family has always been enough, I shout, my voice,
trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. You have
no power over us anymore? Is that so? The spirit taunts,
its laughter, mocking my resolve. You think you can break
(22:46):
a connection forged in blood and sacrifice, watch me? I reply,
My eyes locked onto the sinister figure, With Eliza's spirit
beside me, I reach out to the mirror, my hand
trembling as it makes contact with the cold glass. Release her.
I cry, my voice filled with conviction. The air around
(23:08):
us vibrates with tension, and I can feel the darkness
struggling against our combined strength. Never, the spirit roars, its
form writhing before us. Let her go, Eliza shouts her
own voice, joining mine in defiance. Together we push back
against the darkness, forcing it to relinquish its hold in her.
(23:30):
As we stand our ground, the very air seems to
shimmer and pulse with energy. The darkness shrieks in agony
as it dissipates, leaving behind nothing but the silence of
the attic. We've done it. We've challenged the shadows and
emerged victorious. Thank you, Eliza whispers, her eyes brimming with tears.
(23:51):
I finally free. Remember, I tell her, my voice, still
shaking from the intensity of our confrontation. You are never
alone in this. We fought together, true, she agrees, her
gaze softening, And I'll never forget the one who helped
free me from my chains. As we stand side by side,
(24:14):
the weight of our ordeal slowly lifting, I can't help
but feel a sense of pride in what we've accomplished.
We faced the darkness head on, and together we conquered it.
The mirror quivers glass, rippling like water disturbed by a stone.
My pulse races in tandem with the pulsating energy that
(24:35):
surrounds us and I feel Eliza's spirit rise, breaking free
from her sorrowful chains. A brilliant explosion of light fills
the dusty attic, blinding me for an instant. As my
vision clears, I see Eliza standing before me, no longer
a mere reflection, but a tangible presence. Her sadness has evaporated,
(24:57):
replaced by a radiant smile that lights up up the
dim room. She takes a tentative step forward. Her figure
now is solid and real. Thank you, she breathes, her
voice melodious and filled with gratitude. The air seems to
hum with the echoes of her words, sending shivers down
my spine. It was my pleasure, I reply, Still awe
(25:21):
struck by the transformation we've wrought, I reach out to
touch her shoulder, expecting my hand to pass through her
as it had done countless times before. Instead, I find
warmth and solidity, proof of her new found freedom. Is
it really over? I ask, my voice barely more than
a whisper. Yes, Eliza replies, her eyes shining with joy.
(25:48):
Thanks to you, A wave of warmth washes over me,
and I know that our combined efforts have fulfilled my
promise to help her. Our connection, once forged by shared sorrow,
will endure as a testament to empathy and courage. Remember,
I tell her, my heart swelling with pride, You were
(26:09):
never alone in this. We fought together, and I'll never
forget the one who helped free me from my chains,
She says, gaze never leaving mine with a final embrace.
We part ways, two souls forever changed by their journey
into the past. As I stand before the now ordinary mirror,
(26:29):
I say not only Eliza's triumph, but my own reflections
of strength and determination. I take one last look around
the attic, which now feels empty and devoid of the
energy that once consumed it. My connection with Eliza remains
a bond forged through empathy and courage, an unforgettable adventure
that has irrevocably changed us both. With a heart full
(26:53):
of hope, I descend the creaky stairs, leaving the attic behind,
the knowledge that I have not only set alone of free,
but discovered a part of myself, and the process fills
me with a new find sense of purpose. As I
step into my present life, forever altered by the past.
I'm ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, armed with
(27:15):
the memory of the girl who dared to reach beyond
the veil and the spirit you found her way home.
Speaker 2 (27:32):
Thank you for tuning in to a truly haunted podcast.
Don't forget to check out our Patreon page for bonus content,
exclusive episodes, and much more. Stay tuned to next week
for a whole new haunting episode.
Speaker 1 (27:57):
From the twisted mind of co hosts paranormal author Eve
s Seven's and James Curo comes a delightfully haunting podcast,
Forever Haunted. Forever Haunted. Every Saturday, James and Eve delve
into haunted places, artifacts, urban legends, paranormal happenings, and much more.
(28:25):
Every Thursday, join James and Eve for True Crime Thursday,
where they delve into a deviously sinister true crime story
to chill your bones. Chill your bones, Stay tuned to
Forever Haunted podcast, available on all podcasting networks.
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