"Whispers in the Ward"
Dr. Ayesha had always been dedicated to her work. She recently transferred to the secluded Hillview Asylum, a mental hospital known for its eerie past. It was rumored to have been built over an abandoned burial ground, and strange stories swirled about the patients and staff who went missing over the years.
On her first night shift, Ayesha noticed something unusual. The patients in Ward C, known for severe psychotic disorders, were oddly silent. Usually, they screamed or muttered to themselves, but tonight, the entire ward was still.
Curious and slightly unnerved, Ayesha walked down the dimly lit corridor to check on them. The air was thick, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. As she peered into the first room, the patient sat upright, staring at the wall. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
“Mr. Kamal?” she whispered, stepping closer.
He turned his head slowly, his eyes wide with terror. “They’re coming,” he croaked.
“Who’s coming?” she asked, her voice trembling.
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he pointed to the corner of the room. Ayesha turned to look but saw nothing. Brushing it off as delusion, she continued her rounds.
In the next room, she found another patient in the same state—muttering silently, pointing to the corners.
By the time she reached the last room, dread clawed at her chest. She hesitated before entering. Inside, the patient, a frail woman named Sara, stood facing the wall.
“Sara, are you alright?” Ayesha asked.
Sara didn’t turn around but spoke in a guttural voice that didn’t belong to her. “It’s not the patients who are trapped here, Doctor. It’s you.”
The lights went out. The corridor was plunged into darkness. Ayesha’s flashlight flickered as a low, guttural growl echoed through the halls. She turned to run, but the air felt heavy, as if unseen hands were pulling her back.
Suddenly, the whispers began. Soft, menacing, and everywhere at once. They grew louder and louder until they became screams. Ayesha clutched her head, desperate to drown out the noise.
When the lights flickered back on, she was lying in the middle of the corridor. The ward was empty—no patients, no staff. Just rows of beds and the sound of her own ragged breathing.
She tried to leave, but the doors wouldn’t budge. The whispers returned, louder this time. One by one, the shadows in the corners of the rooms began to move, creeping toward her.
Ayesha’s screams echoed through the asylum, but no one came to help. The next morning, the staff found her catatonic in the middle of the ward, muttering the same phrase over and over:
“They’re in the corners… watching…”