Full Body Chills - Lilith

Episode Date: October 8, 2020

This is a story about a strange hospital and an even stranger visitor.Lilithwritten by: Jacob BeachYou can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.com Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

Hi listeners, I'm Samantha Ware and I have a story I want to tell you. A story about a strange hospital and an even stranger visitor. So, gather round and listen close. They put me on the ward today. That's what they call it here. The ward or the hospital that they send all the ailing who aren't about to get any better. I suppose anyone on a ward just calls it the ward, though. We ain't special. I've been in St. Augury's for a few months now,

in and out of different wings, seeing different doctors, taking different pills and shots, been shipped up and down elevators to different departments as if I was Christmas shopping at Bloomingdale's instead of dying. Doesn't matter what's wrong with me. Just matters that they can't fix it and I've got nowhere else to go. So they sent me to the ward. I heard a lot of stories about the ward being bounced around so much.

Saw them send a lady down there, covered in burns from head to toe. Apparently, she was stuck in a house fire. I haven't ever seen her come out, and I'm headed the same place she went. Heard the nurses, they don't care for you as much as they take care of you. Like a dog nobody wants. The food is worse. The beds are worse. The air is worse. The beds are worse. The air is worse. Breathing in all the same air as 30 other people who are dying, same as you. That's another thing about the ward.

There's no doors or walls. It's just open air. Sure, there's curtains, but they're not worth a damn. The place is set up more like a barracks than a hospital. A row of beds on either wall, no more than four feet apart. You get to know one another well. I've been here less than a day, and I know who can't clean themselves, who can't wipe themselves, who don't know why they're here, and who even don't know who they are. I spent months of my life trying to find a way to keep living. One day here and death would be like healing.

Maybe that's the point. This is a strange place to be. Beside me, an old man told me I would get along great with his daughter, who was coming by at three o'clock. That was a few hours ago now, and just a little bit ago, he acted like he just met me, and said the same damn thing again. Closing my eyes, trying to block out where I was, and being the people who didn't know, I overheard a woman asking a question to one of the nurses. She may as well have been a leper on the street of Galilee. I peeped an eye open, and the look of disgust on the nurse's faces was almost enough to kill me right there. How someone in a position of caring could hold such animosity towards someone they don't know is beyond me. Is she coming?

I heard the woman ask. Who? The tone in his voice made my skin shrink, like I was back in school and the teacher didn't like what I just said. You know who. The woman sounded like she was pleading for something. The man's eyes rolled so hard they could have bowled a strike. The woman, she said. I'm sure whoever you think is coming is on their way. That was the coldest thing I've ever heard. Utter placation, and as generic as all hell.

What is this place? Once the nurse was gone, I raised my voice. What I could raise it to, at least. Who are you expecting, hon? Silence fell across the room like a blanket. Every eye was on me, except the few who didn't have the wits. Then every eye turned away. I got no answer. I got no reprimand beyond the looks of concentrated consternation. I closed my eyes again, just wishing I wasn't here. The woman I asked looked at me, wide-eyed. The violin player.

My eyes matched her own. This place didn't seem befitting something so highbrow. Doesn't sound so bad. That's not... I heard defeat work its way to her voice, and then I heard nothing. I didn't hear another voice the rest of the night. Eventually, I began to doze. The lights dimmed in the hall and through the ward.

The very air became hushed. My ears have never once heard such silence. There was always some sound, but not then. Footsteps broke in like claps of thunder. A shadow appeared on the tile floor, stretched out and fuzzy, becoming clear as the footsteps grew louder. A figure in a sleek black dress came from around the corner, carrying a strange case. The light was dim, but her face was so pale you could still see it.

It was clean, smooth like a bar of soap, her hair dark like the dress both hanging down to her knees She walked between the bedroves Her motions were unnatural and fluid But so elegant Around the room All eyes were on her But you could tell they wanted to look away She moved herself so she was directly in the middle of the room Then she turned slightly

Deliberately To the middle of the room. Then she turned slightly, deliberately, to my side of the room. Every shoulder across the room from me sunk, looking almost relieved, like soldiers being told they can go home. Whatever weight that side of the room dropped, my side picked up. Tension built to fear. She opened her case and pulled out a polished violin, finest-looking instrument I ever saw, and a bow. Her face fixed to a point on the wall, unblinking, anchored. She lifted bow to string, and immediately my ears heard the most beautiful music I ever remember hearing.

The sound was crisp. The walls seemed to be absorbing and wanting to take it in for themselves instead of bounce it around the room like they ought to. It was like this particular hall was made precisely for the sound of those strings. The melody lifted through the room. It drew tears from every eye. The notes were such a mix of mourning and hope, like a Southern Baptist woman singing Amazing Grace at her child's funeral. I closed my eyes, savoring some of this pleasure.

Every other eye stayed glued right to her. I hadn't had much enjoyment in a while, so I was letting myself take some peace. When I opened my eyes, I lost my bearings for a moment. I looked in the middle of the room, but she had moved. She was closer to the beds on my side now. I hadn't heard her stop playing. I hadn't even heard any footsteps.

And yet, she had moved. I watched her now with the same intensity as everyone else in the room. After a short time, her goal became clear. She was heading straight for the space between the third and fourth bed. The third bed, as it happened, was empty. As for bed four, the look of pure terror on the man's face was something to see.

I didn't know a person's face could hold such fear. And silently. He looked like he was screaming, but the violin's sweet voice wouldn't allow such discord. The woman reached the foot of the bed. As she did, I would have thought she grew taller, or maybe the man sunk deeper. She took a step toward the bed, toward the man, not looking at him, just staring forward. Another step.

Her posture relaxed some. The bow lifted from the strings and the music slowly faded away. Some notes hung around even after she stopped playing, as though air wanted to hold on to it. Her gaze finally broke and fell onto the man. He appeared petrified. Her hand gently sunk to his forehead. Her arms motioned just as fluid as her music.

All at once, calmness struck the man. His chest rose and sank steadily under his covers. The woman began to bend at the waist, putting her mouth to the man's ear, whispering something to him. The man's eyes grew. He breathed in one long, deep breath, and his chest moved no more. She rose from the bedside, turned around, and immediately walked out of the ward. The lights went out, and none of us spoke. We all just pretended like we were okay, and able to sleep the whole rest of the night.

At some point, we must have believed our own lies and actually fell asleep. When I woke up, there were nurses gathered around the man who just got the private serenade. It was surreal, watching those people lift a man. One day, living, eating, drinking, speaking. The next, gone. From his bed onto his gurney. His entire life is done. His experiences now mean nothing.

His memories erased from the universe. And these people carrying him out are just having a day at work. Which they'll forget long before their own lives and memories fade away. The rest of the room is doing their best to act like it's just another day. Most of their days involve staring off into nothing and hoping the time goes quick. So it's not like it was a hard job. But still, I could tell most of them were faking, pretending, just like me,

that what we saw last night didn't happen, that this man just went and wasn't taken. But we all knew. Hardly any of us spoke a word, and fewer of us opened our eyes any more than we had to. We lived through the day like a man walking to the gallows. We only did what made the day less difficult. We did nothing that might cause us the sin of enjoyment,

as that would do nothing but bring the terror of the night to us sooner. The light cast into the room by the sunset, though filtered through sterile shades, was some of the most beautiful light I'd ever seen. A day so ugly, punctuated by a light so lovely, was something that made my stomach turn.

Like whoever was in charge had the worst and most twisted sense of humor. The last of the nurses cleared the room, and the evening dimmed. I've never had an easy life, and I have seen some people broken, knowing nothing but more breaking was coming. Nothing can compare to the faces in this room. Some pretended to sleep, some, naive, actually tried to.

I have heard people say, smart people, that fear of the unknown is the most fundamental and intense fear a person knows. I tell you that cannot be any further from the truth. It's when you know

that your end is coming. That's when you'll be most scared. A man who hears someone behind him is less afraid than one who sees a gun held to his face that was all of us we knew we were about to get killed we just didn't know precisely which one of us it was going to be

the footsteps faded in again tap, tap, tapping along the tile floor the shadow again growing into focus, the same posture, the same fluid motion, the same relief from the other side of the room when she turned her long, dark body toward my side. The music was just as beautiful as the last time. This was our only solace, but the notes were certainly embittered, knowing just what would be accompanying them later on. This time, I watched. I watched her feet on

the tile, looking for motion. Watching that woman's body was like watching the moon. You can know with all your head that it's moving, but good luck trying to convince your eyes of any of that. I think my hands figured it out before I did. I was feeling their sweat soak into my shirt, which made me realize she was moving, whether I knew it or not, and she was heading in my direction. I damn myself for thinking this,

but after noticing, I hoped she was going to either of the people next to me but this woman chose me there was a burning in my eyes as I watched unblinking my pulse was making my hands tremble my eyes twitch the fabric of my shirt was thumping as if my heart was just inside its buttons.

The bow stopped moving and she lifted it away from the violin. Her thin form started to rise above me. Up close, I saw her face. It had an awful, unnatural shade that the dim light did nothing to mask. Its smoothness unearthly. Its bones too hard, too pronounced. But worst of all, were her eyes. They stared,

but not at me. As if, like some of those orderlies, this was just a day of work. Like she won't even deign to look at me as she's about to take my life, my past, my now, my next, my everything. She stepped closer, the air chilling as she approached. My teeth began to chatter, though I tried to keep my jaw clenched. My arms felt like they were made of lead as I tried to hide. No matter how hard I lifted, they stayed on my chest, weighing me down. My gasp for air became faster, more shallow.

She reached my side and her gaze broke from nothingness and fell onto me. My eyes could not tear away from her. My heart trying to escape its cage of bones, my pulse pushing on my skin. The gray of her eyes pierced through me. My soul broke from my chest and begged me to hold on. Her hand reached out and slowly fell to my forehead. I swear it blistered from the cold on her touch. All my heat, my blood, my sweat, my spirit ran through me and into her hand. Darkness faded in, surrounding me. She began to bend down, her body bending in a way no body should, her mouth touching my ear,

her breath sickly sweet like rotten fruit. All fell into blackness as I heard her voice break in through the dark and silent void. We must go deeper into greater pain, for it is not permitted that we stay. This series was produced by Ashley Flowers and David Flowers. This episode was written by Jacob Beach and read by Samantha Ware. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. So, what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?