₦airaland Forum

So, our local government decides to play God and resurrect a hospital that’s been dead for seventy-five years. They painted, patched, and hired staff. I was one of the lucky (or unlucky) recruits, employed as one of only two lab technicians.

The lab they gave us was more like a box with microscopes. A windowless room squeezed into the corner, as if someone remembered last minute that hospitals need labs too. At most five people could fit in. Six, if you were ready to suffocate.

Now, history time: this same hospital was abandoned after a king from a nearby town died inside. Room 2418. They said his spirit refused to leave. Patients complained of midnight disturbances, voices, shadows, and cold hands. The legend spread. People avoided the place.

So when the government reopened only one wing, the rest remained sealed, like it was the pharaoh's tomb. Nobody asked questions.

Three weeks into my new job, on the night shift, I was bent over my microscope staring into the world of malaria parasites, when I heard someone enter. The security man, as usual, had vanished into thin air.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

A man’s voice, like he'd been smoking for decades, answered: “I came to run a test.”

Nothing strange except it was 11:35 PM. We don’t see routine patients at that time. But I told him to wait, and after a few minutes, I stepped out.

I asked for his request form. He handed me a sheet of yellow paper. That alone confused me. We only use white. For a second, I thought he wandered in from another hospital. But the paper carried our name, our logo, everything.

The requested test was FBC. So I told him the results wouldn’t be ready until noon. He agreed.

It was when I glanced at the doctor’s name that something crawled under my skin. Only two doctors worked in that hospital, on day and night shifts. I knew them like I knew my name. The name on the form belonged to neither.

But that was not the most disturbing part of the paper.

Still, I forced composure. “Please enter, and let me take your blood sample?”

He turned to me with a stare so sharp it felt like I had asked him for a kidney. Silence. Then finally, he said, “Nope, follow me to the ward.”

There was an odd echo, as if his voice was coming from somewhere far away

That was weird. But everything about this man has been weird, and now creepy, so I didn't ask why.

I asked which ward. He pointed. And I could immediately sense something was off. Because his finger was directed at the psychiatric block. The one still abandoned. The one sealed since before independence.

I quickly gave him back the paper, muttered that I’d join him, and the second he was out of sight, I ran to the gate.

The security man was chilling by the gate, as if nothing in this world concerned him. I cursed him, dragged him back to his post, and told him what happened. His reaction was zero. He just said, “He won’t come back.”

And he didn’t.

When morning came, out of morbid curiosity, I strolled past the front of the psychiatric ward. It was empty and silent and almost falling apart, like you would expect.

Months passed. Nobody mentioned anything strange. I told nobody about it.

Then, one day, I casually mentioned it to one of our doctors in the lobby. He wasn't amused or scared by my story; it was like showing someone a meme they have seen a million times.

In fact, he described the man’s appearance to me. Detail for detail, as if he had seen him just yesterday.

“How do you know?” I asked as I started feeling ice in my veins.

He laughed. The kind of laugh that doesn’t reach the eyes. Then, suddenly, he went cold, looked straight at me, and said, “Because I ordered the tests.”

At first, I thought it was a bad prank. Until he mentioned the one thing I had left out. The date on the yellow form.

5th July, 1950.

And before I could even recover, he added one more thing, something I had heard before.

“Room 2418.”

My legs turned into spaghetti as I tried to rush out of the lobby. He looked at me with the "What a pity" look. Then, almost casually, he said.

“Go there. You’ll see why none of us leave.”

This one nah tales by moonlight or e real?

Things dey happen sha

You try. Your story is interesting, with good tempo, twists, suspence and flow. Only that the ending is not clear enough to me.

The story is sweet but next time try and add some things that will make your readers assume it’s a real story

Jacktheripper:
So, our local government decides to play God and resurrect a hospital that’s been dead for seventy-five years...

This is synopsis for an award winning Nollywood horror flick

The nigga try tsha

Nice try!

Nice read!

Either the op was in a trance, or he allowed his imagination run wild.

Op is a writer from the spirit world.
Get more experience from a nearby mortuary.

Incoherent story. The doctor's name in the lab order did not belong to the doctors there and all of a sudden, one of them agreed he ordered it and to crown it all, in 1950. Mtchew

As "Jack The Ripper" You shouldn't be afraid of the Night and ghosts because that's your natural habitat.

T0BY:
This one nah tales by moonlight or e real?

Things dey happen sha

🤣🤣🤣

Elineska:
As "Jack The Ripper" You shouldn't be afraid of the Night and ghosts because that's your natural habitat.
D

Omo. I don't even know why I chose that name sef. 🤣

butterfly777:
You try. Your story is interesting, with good tempo, tests, suspence and flow. Only that then ebinbi not clear enough to me.

Thanks. What's ebinbi?

Nonexisting1:
Incoherent story. The doctor's name in the lab order did not belong to the doctors there and all of a sudden, one of them agreed he ordered it and to crown it all, in 1950. Mtchew

No vex my boss. 👏

Jacktheripper:
Thanks. What's ebinbi?

I think he meant to write...

'The ending'.

It wasn't clear to me either.(if that's what he meant) Was the doctor a ghost? If he was why was his name on the doctors list?

It's a great story though and I enjoyed reading it!

brain54:
I think he meant to write...

'The ending'.

It wasn't clear to me either. Was the doctor a ghost? If he was why was his name on the doctors list?

It's a great story though and I enjoyed reading it!

Oh. What I was trying to do was to end it on a cliffhanger ( too much Netflix series wan wound me), but it seems I didn't do it well. Will do better next time.

And yes, my initial plan was that the guy was actually working with ghosts who just changed their names. But writing about how everything happened will be too long and probably be a novel.


Glad you enjoyed it the way it is though 🙏

Jacktheripper:
Oh. What I was trying to do was to end it on a cliffhanger ( too much Netflix series wan wound me), but it seems I didn't do it well. Will do better next time.

And yes, my initial plan was that the guy was actually working with ghosts who just changed their names. But writing about how everything happened will be too long and probably be a novel.


Glad you enjoyed it the way it is though 🙏

Sincerely, I enjoyed reading...

You did well.

I'm impressed you wrote it yourself. I thought you copied it.

Nothing is perfect.

Most error flicks(movies/books) I have seen mostly end that way without a definite conclusion.

You did well! (×2-lol)

Jacktheripper:
Thanks. What's ebinbi?

It's a typo. I wanted to say "the ending was not clear to me."

Very captivating story, I was thinking it was real life story at the beginning.


Nice try, well done op, keep it up, if you maintain the suspense, the story will sell

It made sense until you mentioned 1950 any doctor who ordered a test in 1950 would be dead by now or so decrepit and frail that he wouldn't be able to stand up or see or recognize anyone

Creative build and captivating. Nice work

Feldie:
It made sense until you mentioned 1950 any doctor who ordered a test in 1950 would be dead by now or so decrepit and frail that he wouldn't be able to stand up or see or recognize anyone

It's meant to be sort of a horror story 🤦‍♂️

RealityKings1:
Creative build and captivating. Nice work

Thanks 🙏🙏

Jacktheripper:
So, our local government decides to play God and resurrect a hospital that’s been dead for seventy-five years. They painted, patched, and hired staff. I was one of the lucky (or unlucky) recruits, employed as one of only two lab technicians.

The lab they gave us was more like a box with microscopes. A windowless room squeezed into the corner, as if someone remembered last minute that hospitals need labs too. At most five people could fit in. Six, if you were ready to suffocate.

Now, history time: this same hospital was abandoned after a king from a nearby town died inside. Room 2418. They said his spirit refused to leave. Patients complained of midnight disturbances, voices, shadows, and cold hands. The legend spread. People avoided the place.

So when the government reopened only one wing, the rest remained sealed, like it was the pharaoh's tomb. Nobody asked questions.

Three weeks into my new job, on the night shift, I was bent over my microscope staring into the world of malaria parasites, when I heard someone enter. The security man, as usual, had vanished into thin air.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

A man’s voice, like he'd been smoking for decades, answered: “I came to run a test.”

Nothing strange except it was 11:35 PM. We don’t see routine patients at that time. But I told him to wait, and after a few minutes, I stepped out.

I asked for his request form. He handed me a sheet of yellow paper. That alone confused me. We only use white. For a second, I thought he wandered in from another hospital. But the paper carried our name, our logo, everything.

The requested test was FBC. So I told him the results wouldn’t be ready until noon. He agreed.

It was when I glanced at the doctor’s name that something crawled under my skin. Only two doctors worked in that hospital, on day and night shifts. I knew them like I knew my name. The name on the form belonged to neither.

But that was not the most disturbing part of the paper.

Still, I forced composure. “Please enter, and let me take your blood sample?”

He turned to me with a stare so sharp it felt like I had asked him for a kidney. Silence. Then finally, he said, “Nope, follow me to the ward.”

There was an odd echo, as if his voice was coming from somewhere far away

That was weird. But everything about this man has been weird, and now creepy, so I didn't ask why.

I asked which ward. He pointed. And I could immediately sense something was off. Because his finger was directed at the psychiatric block. The one still abandoned. The one sealed since before independence.

I quickly gave him back the paper, muttered that I’d join him, and the second he was out of sight, I ran to the gate.

The security man was chilling by the gate, as if nothing in this world concerned him. I cursed him, dragged him back to his post, and told him what happened. His reaction was zero. He just said, “He won’t come back.”

And he didn’t.

When morning came, out of morbid curiosity, I strolled past the front of the psychiatric ward. It was empty and silent and almost falling apart, like you would expect.

Months passed. Nobody mentioned anything strange. I told nobody about it.

Then, one day, I casually mentioned it to one of our doctors in the lobby. He wasn't amused or scared by my story; it was like showing someone a meme they have seen a million times.

In fact, he described the man’s appearance to me. Detail for detail, as if he had seen him just yesterday.

“How do you know?” I asked as I started feeling ice in my veins.

He laughed. The kind of laugh that doesn’t reach the eyes. Then, suddenly, he went cold, looked straight at me, and said, “Because I ordered the tests.”

At first, I thought it was a bad prank. Until he mentioned the one thing I had left out. The date on the yellow form.

5th July, 1950.

And before I could even recover, he added one more thing, something I had heard before.

“Room 2418.”

My legs turned into spaghetti as I tried to rush out of the lobby. He looked at me with the "What a pity" look. Then, almost casually, he said.

“Go there. You’ll see why none of us leave.”

Nice one, I enjoyed it.

But I heard there is this joint opposite one the accident and emergency ward of one hospital in Kaduna South where the undead used to come and shayo.

Folks that FRSC bring from the express after accident that not make it go there to hangout. Some of them fine fine babes sitting alone on a table at night. It's when you start asking for phone number and meet up afterwards that the reality kicks in

What happened to Nairaland literature section of 2014-2019. Nairaland got great writers in those years.

sabbiboi:
What happened to Nairaland literature section of 2014-2019. Nairaland got great writers in those years.

Na Ban and excessiveness of the Emperor