Horror Stories - 3 Very Scary TRUE Hospital Horror Stories That Actually Happened

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Starting point is 00:00:56 Please gamble responsibly. Monopoly is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. Hello everyone and welcome back to horror stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe if you're enjoying the episodes. Story 1 in the year 2024, I was only 13 years old.

Starting point is 00:01:30 It was a quiet Friday evening, and I was sitting on the living room couch watching a rerun of an old cartoon that, to be honest, I wasn't really interested in. The tapping of the rain against the windows filled the house, blending with the constant hum of the television. My mother was upstairs in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. She always took her time, and I knew better than to interrupt her during her routine. Suddenly a knock at the front door shattered the monotonous calm of the night. It wasn't loud or violent, but just enough to make me jump.

Starting point is 00:02:03 I stared at the door in doubt. Who could it be at this hour? I dragged my feet across the carpet as I approached. Looking through the peephole, I recognized a familiar face. Mr. Dalvin, an old friend of my father's. His gray hair was soaked from the rain, and his expression was grave. My chest tightened. Something wasn't right.

Starting point is 00:02:25 I opened the door cautiously. Hello, Mr. Delvin, I said, my voice trembling. Hello, kid, he replied in a low, serious tone. I need to speak with your mother, your father. Had an accident. He's in the hospital. My stomach dropped. I barely managed to mumble, wait here, before sprinting upstairs to tell Mom. The words came out in a jumble. She came out of the bathroom still adjusting her robe and rushed downstairs to meet Mr. Delvin. I stayed at the top of the staircase, watching as he explained everything. She covered her mouth with her hand horrified.

Starting point is 00:03:02 minutes later we were in Mr. Delvin's car speeding through the wet streets. On the way, Mom kept asking questions, but his answers were short and vague. All I understood was that my father's condition was critical and that he was still in surgery. Clutching the seatbelt with my sweaty hands, I felt my heart pounding violently. When we arrived at the hospital, the sharp smell of disinfectant hit me immediately. The lights were too bright, the walls excessively white. Nurses and doctors moved quickly through the hallways, their faces tense and focused. We were led to a waiting room right across from the operating room. Mom sat down, gripping her purse tightly, pale and anxious.

Starting point is 00:03:44 I sat next to her, feeling completely out of place. The clock on the wall seemed to mark each second louder than the last. Around one in the morning, exhaustion started to get the best of her. Her head tilted as she fought to stay awake. I, on the other hand, couldn't keep still. anxiety had me restless. So I said, I'm going to take a little walk. She barely reacted, trapped in her worry. The hospital hallways were dimly lit and eerily silent at that hour. The further I wandered, the less recognizable everything became. It was as if the corridors

Starting point is 00:04:20 had no end, each turn leading to another identical hallway. The squeak of my sneakers against the tile floor was the only sound breaking the silence. Then I felt it. a presence behind me. I turned my head just enough and saw him. A man stood at the end of the hallway barely visible under the faint light. He didn't move. He just watched me. My breathing quickened.

Starting point is 00:04:46 I kept walking, picking up the pace, convincing myself it was my imagination. But when I looked again, he was closer. Panic set in as I tried to remember the way back to the waiting room. Everything looked the same, endless and repetitive. Suddenly I noticed a door slightly ajar. Without thinking, I slipped inside and quietly shut it behind me. The dimness of the place allowed me to see better. Walls lined with metal drawers, each one labeled.

Starting point is 00:05:15 A chill ran down my spine. I didn't know much about hospitals, but even at 13 I understood exactly where I was. I backed away, breathing unevenly, trying to process it. When a sharp bang broke the silence. I froze staring at the door. The sound came again, but this time I realized it wasn't from the entrance. It was from one of the drawers. Terror rooted me to the floor.

Starting point is 00:05:41 My legs felt glued as I stared at the row of metal compartments. The banging repeated, louder this time. Trembling, I stretched out my hand toward one of the drawer handles, ready to open it, when a voice behind me made me jump. Hey, kid, what are you doing here? Startled, I turned around. A man in a white coat, a doctor, looked at me with a stern expression, though his eyes carried a trace of curiosity. There was a bang. Right there, I stammered, pointing to the drawer. He raised an eyebrow. A bang coming from a morgue drawer.

Starting point is 00:06:17 Without waiting for an answer, he walked past me and began opening them one by one. Horrified, I watched as each compartment revealed exactly what I feared. Pale lifeless bodies. My stomach lured. and I stepped back, unable to take it in. See? Only the deceased here, he said dismissively. Before I could reply, another sound chilled my blood. Footsteps, slow, deliberate, just outside the room. I turned toward the door, my heart pounding violently. It creaked open slightly, and there he was. The same man who had been following me. His face remained in shadow, but his intent was clear. I ran the echo of footsteps chasing me. My lungs burned, my legs barely responding, but I kept turning corners one after another trying to lose them.

Starting point is 00:07:07 The hallways seemed endless, always leading me back to the same place. Just when I thought I couldn't go on, I heard a familiar voice. Honey, where are you? It was my mother. Her voice was like a lifeline. I ran toward her, tears streaming down my face. When I reached her, I collapsed into her arms. What happened?

Starting point is 00:07:29 She asked in anguish. I pointed behind me, but the man was gone. The hallway was empty. Later, once I managed to calm down, I told her everything. She was skeptical, but concerned enough to report it to the hospital staff. Security searched the building, but they didn't find anyone matching the description. The next morning we spoke with the same doctor I'd seen in the morgue. I mentioned the banging in the drawers, and he looked at me with a mix of confusion.

Starting point is 00:07:57 and pity. You must have been dreaming, he said. It's impossible for anyone to bang from inside those compartments. I didn't argue, but I knew what I'd heard. To this day, I can still hear that banging echoing in my mind. And as for the man who followed me, they never caught him. Sometimes alone at night, I wonder who he was and what he wanted. But more than anything, I'm haunted by that sound in the morgue. Was it just my imagination or something far more sinister? Before moving on to the next story, if this is your first time here, make sure to subscribe to the channel and hit the bell so you don't miss the upcoming horror stories. We need your support.

Starting point is 00:08:39 Share these tales with your friends and family. Thank you. Story 2. I never believed in ghosts or the supernatural, but there's something about that night I still can't explain. Something that keeps me awake. staring at the ceiling and replaying everything over and over again. It all started when my friends and I decided to explore the abandoned Waverly Hills Sanatorium.

Starting point is 00:09:07 You've probably heard of it. It's one of the most haunted places in the United States. Yeah, it sounds cliche, but we weren't there for ghost stories. We were there for content. My best friend Kyle had the idea of starting a YouTube channel called Ghost Hunters in the Dark. He thought it would be a hit if we managed to catch. capture something creepy. Then there was Mike, the skeptic of the group, and me, somewhere in between. I didn't expect to see anything, but I was curious enough to give it a try.

Starting point is 00:09:39 The sanatorium loomed over us like a black hole, swallowing the light of the full moon. The windows were shattered, and the main doors hung open like a gaping mouth. Kyle was buzzing with excitement, bouncing around with his camera in hand. Mike stayed quiet, fiddling with his flashlight. We'll cover more ground if we split up. Kyle suggested once we were inside. I didn't like the idea, but the building was enormous, filled with endless hallways and rooms.

Starting point is 00:10:08 It felt like a labyrinth designed to trap you. Kyle insisted we could always use the radios if anything happened, and reluctantly we agreed. I took the west hallway where the air felt dense and cold. My footsteps echoed, every sound bouncing off the empty walls. The rooms I passed were nearly outside. identical. Peeling paint, overturned furniture, shattered glass. Some still held rusted hospital beds with torn mattresses, as if the ghosts of patients lingered there. Every so often I thought I heard

Starting point is 00:10:40 something, a whisper, the shuffle of feet. But when I stopped, there was only silence. My flashlight flickered, and I tapped it nervously. Meanwhile, Kyle and Mike were exploring other wings. Through the walkie-talkie, Kyle's voice crackled as he described old operations. room and graffiti-covered walls. Mike spoke little, muttering that the whole thing was a waste of time. I had just turned a corner when Kyle's voice came through more clearly, cutting through the static. Guys come to me now. His tone wasn't playful anymore. It was tense and sharp. Where are you? Mike asked, sounding just as uneasy. East hallway near the central staircase, Kyle answered. I quickened my pace, the beam of my flashlight bouncing across.

Starting point is 00:11:26 cracked tiles. I reached the staircase at the same time as Mike. Kyle stood in the middle of the hallway, his flashlight aimed at the floor. What is it? Mike panted. Kyle didn't answer right away. He pointed to the ground. There was a white sheet. At first I thought it was just trash, but it wasn't crumpled like garbage. It was spread out neatly and in the center. It rose slightly as if something lay underneath. My throat tightened. Is somewhat, I began, unable to finish the question. Kyle nodded. At first I thought it was just a blanket, but it's too neat, and it doesn't move.

Starting point is 00:12:08 Mike scoffed trying to mask his fear. Probably just a homeless guy sleeping. Let's go. But Kyle shook his head. We have to check. What if they're hurt? None of us argued. Kyle was always the brave one.

Starting point is 00:12:25 He knelt beside the sheet. his flashlight fixed on it, his hand trembling slightly over the edge. Stay back, he warned. I don't know why, but I grabbed Mike's arm tightly. Something about that sheet felt wrong. Kyle hesitated, then pinched the corner of the fabric between his fingers and began to lift it. That's when he screamed. It wasn't a startled yelp or a call for attention.

Starting point is 00:12:50 It was a raw primal scream that froze the blood in your veins. He shot to his feet, dropped the flashlights. light, and before I could process what was happening, he bolted. Mike and I didn't wait to ask questions. We ran after him, our footsteps echoing in the darkness, breath ragged. We didn't stop until we were outside, gasping under the pale moonlight. Kyle paced back and forth his hand shaking. What did you see? Mike demanded. At first, Kyle didn't look at us. His eyes were fixed on the ground. finally he whispered there were eyes under the sheet yellow glowing eyes staring right at me Mike and I exchanged a look speechless we have to call the police Kyle said what if it's a body

Starting point is 00:13:38 or someone dangerous the police arrived about 20 minutes later we led them to the spot but when we got there the sheet was gone the officers searched the area but found nothing no sheet no body no glowing eyes, just an empty hallway. They took our statements, though it was obvious they didn't believe us. One of them, an older man with a weary face, pulled me aside and said, You know, there's a story about this place. They say some patients never left. Maybe you boys should keep away. That night back home, we reviewed the footage. Kyle's camera had been recording the entire time. We fast forwarded to the moment he approached the sheet. The video showed Kyle kneeling reaching out and then static. When the image returned, the camera was on the ground

Starting point is 00:14:29 pointed at our feet as we ran. We never uploaded that video. We never went back to the sanatorium. Kyle eventually stopped talking about the glowing eyes, but I know he still sees them in his nightmares. Story 3. Back in the 1990s, my wife, who at that time was only my girlfriend, worked at a hospital with a long history. The place had originally been built in the 19th century, and over time, transformed into a palliative care facility. It was fascinating to think about how many years it had been serving the community in different ways.

Starting point is 00:15:10 Over the years, modern wings had been added, though there was also a section of low-care units. These looked like small, single-level cabins nestled within a lovely garden, designed for patients who could still take care of themselves, but needed to be nearby in case they required medical assistance. Some of the original old buildings were still in use, and they had their share of problems, cold drafts seeping in, doors that were difficult to open,

Starting point is 00:15:36 and other issues that needed attention. One of the strangest things was a door that would lock by itself and then just a few seconds later, unlock again, with no one nearby to touch it. It was a mystery that left everyone intrigued. My wife usually carpooled with a neighbor who worked at the same hospital. However, on Fridays that neighbor's shift ended at noon. Since my wife had to stay until the end of the day, I would drive to pick her up.

Starting point is 00:16:04 The trip was about 40 minutes each way, so I always left the house an hour early to make sure I arrived on time. When I got there, I would sit patiently in front of the cozy little brick house that served as the office, on an old church bench worn down by years of use. The residents of the low-care units often strolled through the gardens, greeting everyone they passed with kindness. Over the weeks I came to know Ken better. He was just over 80 years old and lived in one of those units, where he received help with daily activities. His health issues often brought him to the hospital for a few days, after which he'd return home for a couple of weeks to recover. Little by little he made my routine his own, and every Friday he would be there waiting for me on that same church bench. I enjoyed talking with him.

Starting point is 00:16:52 He was a man full of experiences, with fascinating stories he told with enthusiasm. He had lived and done so much in his youth, and sharing those memories brought him contagious joy. Ken owned a classic Toyota Seligua from the 1980s. It was a striking car, with sleek lines and a vibrant color that stood out on the road. Though he could no longer drive it, he refused to part with it. When his family visited, he would ask them to take it. out for a spin. More than once he urged me to drive him around in it, but I barely knew him then, and I didn't feel comfortable driving someone else's car in the little time I had before picking up my

Starting point is 00:17:30 wife. Another of his passions was golf. He would spend hours out on the course, enjoying the outdoors and the challenge of the game. He often spoke about his son visiting him every week, something my wife later confirmed, and said they would go out together in the Selica. I assumed they were going golfing because every Friday Ken described his latest match in vivid detail. He would tell me how he managed three birdies in a row, how some shots landed in the water, or how after applying his handicap, he sometimes finished three over par and other times one under. Even though I wasn't a golfer myself, my father and brother played, so I understood his stories. His descriptions were so lively and precise that anyone listening would be captivated. When we weren't talking about golf, Ken shared

Starting point is 00:18:18 memories of his time in the Air Force during World War II. He had worked as a mechanic, eventually rising to crew chief and later becoming an instructor for new recruits. Later on, he became a trade school teacher, spending 10 years instructing before retiring. His anecdotes range from inventing makeshift parts with scarce materials, to comical workshop failures, to amusing tales from his student days. He was quite literally a treasure trove of stories. In time, I found myself leaving earlier on Fridays just so I could arrive with enough time to enjoy his company. When I didn't see him, my wife would explain that he was admitted to the hospital again. I was surprised by how much I grew to miss our conversations.

Starting point is 00:19:04 After about nine months, everything changed. One Friday, that seemed like any other, Ken was back on the bench. We chattered as usual, and he told me about his most recent round of golf. At one point, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. But when I returned, he was gone. I mentioned it to my wife, and she looked at me with sadness. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you.

Starting point is 00:19:29 Ken passed away earlier this week. I froze. I had just spoken with him. He had told me with the same passion as always the details of a recent game. How could that be possible? Was it really him? The following week I noticed his car was no longer in its usual spot under the shed. Instead, there was a large truck with a trailer full of furniture and boxes.

Starting point is 00:19:53 I felt it was the final sign of his departure, though part of me still wanted to believe he was alive. I walked over to his unit and found his son organizing his belongings. I introduced myself and explained who I was. He already knew of me because Kenned told him about our Friday conversations. He confirmed that his father had died the previous Tuesday. I stayed silent about what I had experienced, not wanting to cause him for him. further pain. As we talked, he told me his father loved being around people and sharing stories, and he hoped he hadn't bored me with too many. I assured him it was the opposite, that I was

Starting point is 00:20:30 amazed at how sharp his memory was, and how vividly he recalled every detail of his golf games. His son frowned, confused. Finally, he told me something that left me stunned. Ken hadn't played golf in at least ten years. In reality, every Thursday he would pick him up and take him to the cemetery to visit his wife's grave. After that, they'd have lunch at a cafe, do some shopping, and stop for gas before heading back. That was his weekly routine. He never mentioned golf. The stories he told me had to have come from memories of years past, and yet they were so vivid, so detailed, so full of life, that it was impossible to believe he hadn't just lived them.

Horror Stories - 3 Very Scary TRUE Hospital Horror Stories That Actually Happened

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