"The Echoes of St. Mary's"

In the heart of a forgotten town stood St. Mary's Hospital, a relic from a bygone era. It was a massive structure, with tall, narrow windows and an ivy-covered facade that hinted at its many years of disuse. The townsfolk spoke of the place in hushed tones, warning of the strange occurrences that had been reported there since it was abandoned after a mysterious fire in the late 1960s.Laura, a young journalist with a knack for uncovering the truth behind local legends, decided to spend a night inside St. Mary's. She wanted to write a feature on the most haunted places in the area, and this hospital was at the top of her list. Armed with a flashlight, a camera, and a recorder, she made her way inside as the sun dipped below the horizon.The interior was a maze of dark, crumbling corridors. Paint peeled from the walls, and the floors creaked underfoot. An eerie silence filled the air, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. As Laura walked deeper into the hospital, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She turned on her recorder to capture the atmosphere."Day one at St. Mary's," she whispered into the microphone. "No signs of—"Her words were cut off by a loud crash echoing from somewhere deeper within the building. Laura’s heart raced. She shone her flashlight toward the sound but saw nothing but darkness. Swallowing her fear, she moved forward, following the echo down a long, twisting hallway that led to the old maternity ward.She entered the ward cautiously, and a sudden chill filled the room, as if the temperature had dropped by several degrees. The hairs on her arms stood on end. She aimed her flashlight around the room, revealing rows of rusted metal beds, their mattresses long rotted away. In the corner, an ancient wheelchair sat, covered in a thick layer of dust.As Laura approached the wheelchair, she heard a faint, rhythmic tapping. It grew louder and more insistent, coming from behind a set of double doors at the far end of the ward. She hesitated, then pushed the doors open with a creak.Beyond was an operating room, its once-sterile tiles now grimy and cracked. In the center of the room stood an old surgical table, its leather straps still fastened. The tapping noise was louder now, but Laura couldn’t see its source. She moved her flashlight around the room and suddenly froze.In the corner, a shadowy figure stood, facing the wall. It was a woman in a nurse’s uniform, her back turned to Laura. The tapping continued, and Laura realized it was the sound of the nurse's fingernails drumming against the wall. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Her hand shook as she held the flashlight steady.The nurse slowly turned her head, revealing a gaunt face with hollow, sunken eyes that stared straight at Laura. "You shouldn't be here," the nurse whispered, her voice echoing around the room.Laura stumbled back, her breath quickening. She turned to flee, but the doors slammed shut in front of her. Panicking, she pushed against them, but they wouldn't budge. Behind her, the nurse began to hum a haunting lullaby, the same melody Laura’s grandmother used to sing to her as a child.Tears streamed down Laura’s face as she pounded on the door. Suddenly, the humming stopped, replaced by a soft, sickening laugh that reverberated through her bones. She spun around to face the nurse, but the figure had vanished. In its place, a series of ghostly figures appeared—doctors, nurses, patients—all staring at her with the same hollow eyes.Laura fumbled with her recorder, trying to document what she was seeing. But when she looked at the screen, she saw nothing but static. The figures advanced toward her, their expressions a mix of sorrow and anger. Laura screamed, slamming her fists against the door.As the ghostly figures reached out for her, the door finally gave way, and Laura tumbled into the hallway. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward the exit, never looking back. The hospital seemed to come alive around her, with whispers and cries echoing through the corridors.When she finally burst through the front doors, Laura collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. The night was still, the stars overhead twinkling like nothing had happened. She looked back at St. Mary’s, its dark windows staring back at her like empty eyes.Laura fled the hospital grounds and never returned. She wrote her article, but no one believed her story. The footage on her camera was corrupted, filled with nothing but static and eerie sounds. And the recorder? It played only the faint lullaby and the ghostly voice of the nurse whispering, "You shouldn't be here."Years later, St. Mary’s Hospital still stands, abandoned and decaying. Some nights, if the wind is just right, you can hear a faint humming drifting from the building, accompanied by the soft, rhythmic tapping of fingernails on a wall.