Welcome to Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time. I am your host Spooky Boo. Tonight I have for you 3 creepy stories about hospital rooms. If you would like to following along in the story while reading, please visit creepypastascarystories.com. I’d love for you to listen to read my stories. Check out scarystorytime.com for more information.
Now let’s begin…
Story Number 1
Room 250
by GreyOwl
In the twenty years I have been a doctor, I’ve never regretted it. Having the power in your hands to save someone’s life is what I live for. Patients come to me on their death bed, confessing their love to the spouse standing next to them, thinking they are on their way to judgement day.
No patient assigned to me has died. Ever. I take pride in that and I receive the highest grade of satisfaction whenever my patient is back on their feet.
My wife and children do not understand why I can’t be home all of the time. My wife, Stephanie, has always hated my working hours but loved the money that supported her many addictions. Sometimes I wish I could scale back; sometimes I wish I could have family outings in the park, playing a good ol’ game of football with my boys. But, the hospital needs me. I’d rather save someone’s life than satisfy my own needs. Even if it sacrifices my relationship with my family.
Today, I’m working in the burn unit. The unit most doctors try to avoid. I walked passed many open doors on my way to the assigned patient, peering in to see the scorched faces of children and adults. I shined them all a smile, attempting to brighten up their day before ending my walk at room 250.
Quickly, I realized the severity of the case once I laid eyes upon him. The patient lying in the bed was covered from head to toe in bandages. I approached the patient, staring intently upon the countless tubes connected to him.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Edenburg,” I said.
The heart rate monitor continued to sound as I checked the oxygen tank next to the bed. I knew he wasn’t going to respond. He was brought in hours ago and has been in a coma since, but it’s always important to socialize with patients who are comatose. Though they cannot speak, they can hear everything.
“We are going to get you better, okay? You have my word,” I said as a nurse walked into the room.
She changed the IV bag before staring at the heart rate monitor.
“He’s been steady ever since I got here,” I said.
She seemed to nod her head before glancing at the patient.
“Please, get better,” she said before walking out of the room.
I smiled at her gesture, though she wasn’t there to witness it. It wasn’t encouraged to get attached to patients, but attaching yourself to someone who you are around for a substantial amount of time is human nature.
“I’ll check on you every few hours but that lovely nurse will be here for you more frequently. Don’t worry, I think she’s single,” I said smiling.
I took a look one last time at the heart rate monitor before disappearing into the hall. Instinctively, my stomach began to growl. Being that it was well past my lunch break, it had every reason to be upset with me. So I hurried to the cafeteria.
As usual, it was jam packed with staff members but near the television seemed to be unusually crowded. Though my stomach was gurgling for food, I walked towards the crowd.
“What’s going on?” I questioned.
Everyone sat still, listening in on the reports of a tragic car crash on the highway.
“Police say the car is being inspected for foul play after the man driving the car crashed into several vehicles before igniting, causing at least a dozen injuries and several fatalities,” the reporter said.
I stood speechless as I listened in on the nurses conversations.
“Room 250,” I heard someone whisper.
Quickly, I concluded the patient in room 250 was the man in the report. It was a bit saddening. He hadn’t been some idiot that lit a cigarette before falling asleep or some maniac that enjoyed playing with explosive fireworks. He was a man trying to go to work; feed his family.
After hearing such a somber report, I couldn’t help but to lose my appetite. So, instead of taking lunch, I decided to go home and be with my family. My car had been in the shop for a couple of days, so I walked the few miles home.
The beauty of the scenery was uplifting. After a day in the burn unit, I needed a sense of cheer to counteract the supreme desolation within me. And, with every stride towards my house, I felt a little less bogged down. But, once I made it home, it became clear that my day would remain in the dirt as I saw the same vehicle I had seen many times before whenever I decided to come home early from work.
I stared fixedly at the Ford pickup truck in my driveway with rage within my heart. I knew my wife had stepped out on me years ago. All of those days at work without even a call from me to ask how she was doing was enough to send her over the edge. I understood it, but I didn’t want to admit that my wife had been screwing some guy behind my back… in my home. All of this could have been avoided. If only I came home more. If only I talked to her, held her, and comforted her. But, I didn’t. I didn’t have the time to even say hi to her. I left her with three teenaged boys and expected her not to fall apart with stress. This was my fault, and I didn’t want to further disappoint her with my presence.
So I turned around and headed back towards the hospital. As a man, I didn’t want to walk away. I wanted to storm in there, snatch that guy up by his collar, and beat the living shit out of him. But, what would that solve? Nothing.
So, I walked back into the hospital with a sense of betrayal eating away at my heart. My feet seemed to grow heavier with every stride and it became harder to breathe with every step. At the end of the hall, I could see nurses running towards the burn unit. I followed them, though my pace was slower than usual.
I ended my run at the doorway of room 250. Nurses panicked as they tried to revive the bandaged man laying on the bed. The smell of blood permeated throughout the room as they tore away the bandages wrapped around his chest. After three failed attempts of resuscitation, the nurses backed away from the body. A few began crying immediately as they stared at the pulse-less corpse. I stepped in, attempting to console the crying nurses but something strange happened.
My hand glided through her as I tried to pat her shoulder. Again, I tried, believing I was hallucinating but my hand seemed to evaporate with every attempt at contact.
“You will be missed, Dr. Edenburg,” a nurse said.
Quickly, denial creeped up my spine as I backed out of room 250 and into the hallway. Around me, scorched faces I had passed by earlier surrounded me.
“Don’t be afraid,” one muttered.
Another stretched their arms out to me before whispering, “Come with us.”
I fell to the ground, my eyes set upon the door of room 250. Today, I lost my first patient: Dr. Timothy Edenburg.
Story Number 2
Room 308
by dizzle229
My friend Mark and I love exploring abandonments. We’ve been doing it for years, and I’m telling you, it never gets old. The constant creepy feeling, finding new areas, guessing at the history – it’s almost addicting.
From the first time we did it, we were hooked. Still, you can only explore houses for so long before you have to move on to something bigger, and that’s what led us to what happened last year.
There was this huge abandoned hospital near us, just a few towns over. We’d never seen it ourselves, but knew that it had been abandoned for several decades, having closed down in favor a smaller, more modern one.
Mark shot me down the first few times I suggested it, since he was worried about getting caught by the police. Eventually I was able to convince him though, pointing out that they’d probably just tell us to leave.
It was around 7:30 PM when we left, but it was summer, so the sun was still up. On the way there, we went over the plan one more time. The hospital was pretty isolated, and the area around it was overgrown. The idea was to drive to a parking lot about a quarter mile away. From there, we’d sneak through the bushes, and by the time we got there, it would be dark enough to walk across that last paved stretch to the front doors unseen.
When we got to the parking lot, we stood by the car for a few minutes. The road next to the lot went by the hospital, and we wanted to get an idea for the traffic (and, therefore, our chances of being seen). It seemed like our odds were pretty good: In the ten minutes we waited, only a single car went by.
Next, we checked our supplies. For each of us: a flashlight, a bottle of water, some disinfectant, a box of band-aids, and a cheap radio, for when we inevitably decided it would be creepier if we split up.
As I started for the trees, Mark tapped me on the shoulder.
“I almost forgot, I got this from the library earlier.”
He reached into his backpack and retrieved a rolled up piece of paper.
“It’s a map of the building, for the fire exits and stuff. You take it.”
I asked, “Doesn’t a map kind of defeat the purpose of exploring?”
“We’ll only look at it if we have to. If one of us gets hurt, it would kind of suck to bleed to death looking for the exit.”
“Alright, but why do I have to take it?”
“Because ‘one of us’ means me.”
He had a point. In the years we’d been exploring, we’d had three total injuries. All of them were him. I put the map in my back pocket, and we started towards the hospital.
Just as planned, it was dark when we got there. Because of the surrounding trees, we couldn’t make out a clear silhouette of the building against the sky. Shining our flashlights on it showed a brick exterior, and three floors. Most of the windows were broken.
The main entrance was wide open. One of the double-doors was on the ground nearby, with the other nowhere to be found. Most definitely, we were not the first people to check it out, which was expected. I don’t think we’ve ever had to break in ourselves.
In we went.
The place was in really bad shape. The floor was covered in dirt, and most of the doors had been kicked in. There were holes in most of the walls, indicating that thieves had taken the copper wiring. There was also loads of water damage. With all of this, do I even have to mention the graffiti?
The first floor was probably the most interesting. It had the cafeteria, staff room, and, by far most interestingly, the morgue. There was even a set of tools left behind. As a rule, we don’t take things from abandonments, but at that time we really wanted to. We went up the stairs to the second floor.
There, most of doors were intact, and there was no graffiti. I guess the teenagers looking for trouble were too lazy to climb a set of stairs. The thieves had motivation though, and there were just as many holes in the wall as downstairs.
It was at this time that, as always, Mark wanted to split up. I tend to take my time, and he moves pretty quickly in comparison. I go for details, he aims to see everything. Because of this, I knew he’d end up far away from me. It was alright with me though, as I kind of liked the silence. The creepiness is a big part of what makes it fun, and if he didn’t split us up, I probably would have.
The second floor was mostly just patient rooms. Beds and tables, nothing much. As I was exploring, I could hear Mark’s footsteps upstairs. They’d go a distance, stop, I’d hear the faint sound of a door opening, and then I’d hear him move away. He really had gotten ahead.
I’d only explored about half of the floor, because I then came across a relatively large sitting room, which was in the middle of the building. It was actually pretty well illuminated by moonlight, thanks to the large window that made up one wall. Looking out, I could see the paved front area we had entered from.
I didn’t really need the flashlight, so I turned it off. There was a coffee table in the center of the room, surrounded by four old sofas. I sat down at one of them for a water break. It was pretty creepy, just sitting there alone, everything bathed in a dull blue light. I kept seeing things out of the corner of my eye, but in that light, this was expected.
I was just putting my bottle away when I heard my radio crackle.
Mark said, “Hey, I’m kind of lost here. Can you help me find you?”
I would have been annoyed at having to use the map, but after seeing things for a few minutes, I was kind of creeped out, and wanted to get back together.
“Alright,” I asked, “what’s the nearest room number?”
“I’m in room 308.”
“Okay… you’re in the East wing, third floor.”
“Where do I go from here?”
“Walk so that the numbers are descending. There should be a staircase next to 301.”
About two minutes went by. I was about to try talking to him again when he came back on.
“Okay, these stairs are blocked. Where are you?”
I answered, “I’m in a sitting area in the middle of the second floor. I take it you’re next to 301 now?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, now you’ll want to move in ascending order then. There should be an employee staircase next to 349. That leads down here.”
Across the hall from the sitting room, according to the map, was a staff lounge. This was where the stairs went.
After ten more minutes, I could hear Mark’s footsteps above me. Once again, the radio crackled on.
“These stairs right here?”
“Yep, I can hear you above me.”
As I listened to him walk off, I went to the door of the staff lounge. On the other side, I could hear Mark descending the steps and walking across the room. When he reached the door, the knob jiggled, but it was locked.
I yelled through the door to unlock it. Strangely, he answered through the radio, even though he was just on the other side.
“The lock is broken. You’ll have to open it for me.”
I really don’t like damaging sites, but I was way too freaked to keep sitting there by myself while I lead him to another staircase. I backed up and got ready to kick the door down. Just as I was about to kick it, my cell phone rang. I practically jumped through the ceiling.
I answered the phone.
“What? Christ, you scared the crap out of me.”
“And you’ve been scaring the crap out of me!”
It was Mark.
I asked, “What do you mean I’ve been scaring you?”
“You weren’t answering your radio. I’ve been waiting outside for like 20 minutes, where are you?”
I went back to the sitting room and looked out the window. Sure enough, there he was on the pavement.
I said, “Okay, I’m on the second floor, the big window in the middle.”
I saw him look around for a second.
He said, “Yeah. Yeah, I see you.”
It was then that I heard a loud series of bangs. I ran into the hall. The staff room door was shaking with each hit. Whoever was on the other side was wailing on it, trying to get out. I turned around and tore out of there.
I met up with Mark outside, and without a word, we ran through the woods to the parking lot. We got in the car, and sped off towards his house.
When we got there, I told him what had happened. Then, he gave me his experience.
“When I went ahead of you to the other end of the second floor, I tried to go upstairs. It was blocked by debris, but I heard footsteps up there. I kept trying to get you on the radio to ask how you did it, but you weren’t answering. I thought you were screwing with me, but I was creeped out. I waited for you outside, and eventually thought to try your phone.”
I was thoroughly freaked, but he still had one last detail for me.
“There’s one more thing,” he said. “Remember when I called you, and you asked if I could see you? I did see you. But…”
He paused.
“I didn’t want to say anything then, but I could swear I could see people in the third floor windows…”
Story Number 3
Bed 5
by KaeSeven
I was sitting up, holding my head in my hands. I was in so much pain. The nurse said I’d passed out at school and been sent here. She literally said that. Not that I was sent to a hospital. I was sent here.
The lights blinded me and I noticed a doctor walk through the door. I don’t know how I knew he was a doctor. I guess only from the white coat he wore. He had no equipment and carried no clipboard, but I knew he had to be a doctor. I hoped he had some painkillers for my head. I hoped he’d come over to me. But instead, he merely led the boy from Bed 1 out of the room.
It was only about three hours later, I realised something. I’d been sleeping for two hours, as advised by the nurse, but the boy still hadn’t come back. Bed 1 was empty. I was confused by this, but there was no reason to ask. I felt like death, and the nurse wasn’t here, she was instead feeding the boy opposite me like a baby.
Four more hours. It was dark now, around 10pm. It was cold even though the nurse insisted the heating was on. The lights were still blinding. And then the doctor returned. He noticed a girl sitting in Bed 2, looking lightheaded and as pale as snow. I could almost imagine the cold touch of her hand. The doctor made a signal, one that said ‘follow me’. The girl rose to her feet beside him, obviously unstable, yet he didn’t help her. He left that to the nurses, as the ill girl was taken from the room. After one hour, I felt nervous and tapped the nurse next to me, on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, but where did that boy go?” I asked politely.
“Sorry, patient confidentially,” she stated.
She saw my disappointed face and leaned closer towards me.
“Ok, but you can’t tell the other nurses.”
I nodded as she began.
“The boy in Bed 1, Taylor. He was incredibly ill. He’s been here days and not got better. The doctor decided he needed a six-hour long operation. Unfortunately, Taylor died within the fourth hour.”
I sighed and looked away.
“What about the girl in Bed 2?”
The nurse sighed, as if trying not to give out too much information, but began again anyway.
“Jessy was admitted yesterday. She’s just gone for a checkup.”
I nodded to show I’d understood and grabbed my head in pain.
“Are you ok? Would you like some morphine?”
I was about to decline when the headache hit again, and without questioning I nodded my head. I felt the scratch of the needle on the skin of my arm, then immense pain as the needle felt like it had passed through my arm.
I didn’t know what the time was. I’d been asleep apparently. The morphine had made me more tired, and this late the nurse didn’t seem surprised. I noticed Bed 3 was empty, but had no strength to ask or get the nurse’s attention. I felt weak, sleepy even. I recognised the doctor from before standing at the door and talking to a nurse, before approaching Bed 4. Then, like the others, the boy disappeared from the ward and everything seemed cold. I was the only child here. All the nurses were wandering aimlessly. That was until a boy reached the door and was helped into Bed 6.
Four hours. I reached out for the nurse but she either ignored me or didn’t notice. I was stronger than before, but still felt pretty weak. I managed to sit up and noticed Bed 1. Still empty, but the boy was dead. Bed 2. Maybe the girl was discharged? What about Bed 3? And 4?
“Nurse!” I managed to call, and the same nurse who spoke to me earlier rushed to my side.
“What happened to beds 3 and 4?”
The nurse sighed.
“Ten minutes, wait ten minutes, ok.”
I frowned at the nurse, shaking a little.
“I want to know what happened,” I ordered.
“Danielle needed a scan, Phillip needed to be put down. Now don’t talk to me until after ten minutes.” The nurse walked off in a storm, leaving me confused.
Bed 1. Taylor died on the operating table.
Bed 2. Jessy went for a checkup and never came back.
Bed 3. Danielle went for a scan and still hadn’t returned.
Bed 4. Phillip was put to sleep. Wait… it’s illegal to put people to sleep.
Then I sat up and realised. Then the doctor began walking to my bed and I wanted to scream.
I tried, but my voice was dead. I was weak. I kicked and flailed but I felt another immense pain in my shoulder and soon fell into a blackout.
Beeping was my company. I forced my eyes open to a woman in a mask. I felt her holding my hand. My other was locked in place by my side, even though there was nothing to hold it there.
There were machines and tools all around which scared me. There was a blinding light positioned to stare right back into my face. The woman’s eyes were all I could see, a soft hazel colour, yet they had a green tint.
“You’re being so brave,” the woman said.
“Where am I?”
“Still here,” the woman replied, and I could tell she was smiling beneath her mask.
“Why?”
“We’re going to make you better.”
“I only had a headache. I’m fine now.”
The woman laughed.
“They all say that.”
I heard the door to my right open and swing shut.
“That’s just the doctor. Don’t move your head.”
I tried, but it was stuck just like my arm. I felt so confused. I wanted to pull away from her hand holding mine, but my hand was frozen in its position. The nurse kept staring directly at me.
“I don’t want this. You don’t have permission,” I said quickly, my voice shaking.
The woman laughed again.
“It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.”
“What are you going to do?” I said quickly.
“First we need to inject another dose of something. You’ll feel a sharp scratch, but that’s all.”
A sharp scratch. Then way too much pain. The feel of liquid on my skin. I managed to pull my frozen hands into fists, there was so much pain, yet no scream.
“You lied,” I whispered in pain.
The nurse didn’t reply, and suddenly there was the sound of a machine. Something horrible that made my eardrums want to burst.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, just keep still and focus on me.”
“No, get off, what are you doing!!”
“I promise you won’t feel a thing.”
I wanted to scream but something stopped me. The horrible sound matched the agonizing pain to follow. Something was digging deep into my forearm, and every time it moved slightly, agony filled me. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even cry.
“What are you doing? Stop it, it hurts! What are you-”
The pain was too much. I felt a limb detach. I felt liquid and I felt my fingers itching even though they were no longer mine. It hurt. My body ached with the effort to move, which failed no matter how many times I tried.
“Don’t worry, part one is nearly over.”
I felt the same pain but now just above my knee in my left leg.
“Stop! What kind of hospital is this??”
“This isn’t a hospital, silly!” the nurse laughed, and I heard the doctor join in a little.
“Where am I?”
“You’re still here.”
I tilted my head back but that did nothing to the pain. I still wanted to scream and I wanted them to stop.
I stared up at the light in front of me and finally my voice released a petrified scream.
“You’re not here anymore,” a whisper said.
Then it hit me. Bed 1, Taylor died on the operating table. Bed 2, Jessy didn’t get her checkup. Bed 3, Danielle never got a scan. Bed 4, Phillip was put to sleep alright. I was in Bed 5.
Bed 6. The poor boy in Bed 6, not much older than maybe eight. He was going to die. Die in a hospital where people are meant to be helped. Saved from the one thing they were giving us.
But then again, this wasn’t a hospital. Although it may look like one, it really isn’t. I didn’t see the signs quick enough. Especially the most obvious one.
The ‘doctor’ wasn’t wearing a white coat. He was wearing a lab coat.
Lilly stared up from Bed 1 and to the dark ceiling.
“Nurse!”
A smiling nurse looked over. Lilly frowned at her happy mood, but continued nevertheless.
“What happened to the other people?”
“I’m sorry, patient confidentiality.”
“Please,” Lilly said.
The woman sighed, and leaned in with a secretive smirk.
“Fine but don’t tell the other nurses.”
Lilly nodded quickly before leaning in towards her.
“The boy in Bed 1 before you sadly died in an operation. The girl after that went for a checkup. Danielle in Bed 3 got a scan. Phillip had to be put down. Hannah was moved to a different ward.”
Lilly looked across the room as the doctor called over the boy in Bed 6.
“Where’s he going then?”
The nurse was half frowning, half smiling.
“Just wait ten minutes, sweetheart.”
