Voices in the Abandoned Hospital

Voices in the Abandoned Hospital

Some places don’t stay silent… even after everyone’s gone.

The rain fell relentlessly over the cracked windows of St. Mary’s Hospital a place that hadn’t seen a patient in over twenty years. The building stood like a wounded beast, covered in moss and graffiti, its corridors swallowed by darkness and silence. Or so people believed.

Ryan Carter, a 26-year-old urban explorer and aspiring filmmaker, didn’t believe in ghost stories. To him, abandoned places were just relics of forgotten history perfect for his YouTube channel, “Urban Pulse.” When he read about the hospital’s closure after a mysterious fire in 2001, he knew it would make the perfect episode.

“Let’s make this viral,” Ryan said into the camera as thunder cracked overhead. His flashlight beam cut through the fog as he stepped through the broken front doors. Dust motes floated like tiny ghosts in the air.

The entrance smelled of damp plaster and rust. Wheelchairs stood overturned in the lobby, patient charts scattered across the floor. His camera lens caught faded signs Emergency Ward, Pediatrics, Morgue.

Ryan chuckled nervously. “Classic horror setup,” he whispered to his audience.

He moved deeper inside, his footsteps echoing. Somewhere, a door creaked long, low, like a groan. He stopped recording and looked around. Nothing. Just the building breathing.

He resumed filming. “Still intact after all these years. Crazy, right?” His voice trembled slightly. “Locals say the hospital’s haunted that the voices of the last patients never left. Let’s find out.”

The power of curiosity can be deadly.

Ryan entered the psychiatric wing, where the walls were still marked with words — HELP US, SHE’S STILL HERE, DON’T LISTEN TO THEM.

He ran his hand along one of the carvings, smirking. “Probably teenagers trying to freak people out.”

Then, from the dark end of the hallway, came a whisper.

“Ryan…”

He froze. His flashlight flickered once. “Who’s there?” he shouted, voice echoing.

Silence.

He checked his mic still recording. “Okay, maybe the wind,” he muttered. But the whisper came again, closer this time, a trembling female voice.

“Ryan… don’t go to the basement…”

The color drained from his face. He hadn’t told anyone he planned to explore the basement. His script hadn’t mentioned it. “Alright, whoever’s playing games nice try,” he said shakily, forcing a laugh.

But the hospital seemed to shift around him walls groaning, ceiling pipes dripping. The air grew colder, thicker.

He moved toward the stairwell, adrenaline rising. The camera caught faint shadows moving at the edge of the frame shapes too tall and thin to be human.

Down in the basement, the smell was unbearable mold, metal, and something far worse. Old hospital beds lined the corridor. On one of them, a child’s doll sat upright, head turned toward the camera. Ryan swallowed hard.

His flashlight dimmed again.

That’s when he heard them voices, hundreds of them, whispering at once, overlapping, gasping, begging.

“Help us.”

“She locked the doors.”

“Don’t let her find you.”

“Don’t—”

The light went out.

Ryan’s breathing quickened. He tried to turn on his phone’s flashlight, but it refused to work. The whispers grew louder, rising into screams. Something cold brushed against his arm like fingers.

He bolted for the stairs, tripping over debris. His camera clattered to the floor, still recording. As he scrambled up, the lens captured a figure at the end of the hall a nurse in a burned uniform, face hidden under a melted surgical mask. Her head twitched unnaturally to the side.

“Where do you think you’re going, Ryan?” she rasped.

He screamed. The footage ended in static.

Two days later, police found Ryan’s car abandoned near the hospital gates. The camera was discovered inside, still running on a dying battery.

The final clip showed the same corridor but now completely empty. Only faint whispers played in the background.

A week later, the Urban Pulse channel uploaded the video automatically, per Ryan’s pre-set schedule. It went viral overnight.

Viewers claimed to hear extra voices not present in the original footage one of them whispering directly into the microphone:

“Your turn to visit.”

Author’s Note:

Some places remember. Some places replay.

And some like St. Mary’s Hospital never stop recording.