I’ve tried to rationalise what happened that night, two years ago now, maybe I hadn’t slept enough beforehand and it was a hallucination, or maybe my mind wandered into a daydream, maybe I’d fallen asleep and what I’d seen was a waking dream. But none of it makes sense, it was all too strange, much too real to be anything like that.

You’re confused, I can tell, let me explain, I’ll start at the beginning.

I hadn’t been at St Caradog’s Hospital for very long, I’d been there for about six months, working as a Ward Assistant, doing minor clerical, cleaning and nursing tasks where needed, when “The Powers that Be” finally found me a permanent placement. It had been decided that I would work on Block 5, the oldest part of the hospital. In its heyday it had been the original hospital building, built way back in the 1890’s for the sole purpose of treating injured servicemen, a purpose it served right through to the 1960’s.  Once, it had been the jewel of the local medical establishment, four full floors with huge windows to let in as much light as possible, it even had impressive masonry work on the front of the building. But, sadly, by the time I went to work at St Caradog’s, the beautiful stonework was partly eroded and what was left was infested with lichen and there was just one useable floor left, the ground floor which was used as the Ear, Nose and Throat unit. This was where I was assigned.

The whole place always smelled of damp and mould and the Hospital Board had been petitioned numerous times to gut the place and replace it with a newer, modern interior but they always found some excuse not to - ‘no money in the budget’ was always a favourite of theirs. It also wasn’t unusual for the lights to flicker wildly, day or night. This was something the Hospital Board attributed to rats and other vermin chewing on the wires, though there was never any sign of them, and as there apparently wasn’t any money in the budget to call an exterminator or an electrician either, it was down to us, the staff, to keep on top of it. But, despite all the structural problems, it was a nice place to work, very bright and spacious (though the big old fashioned windows did mean that it absolutely hell’s own delight to keep the place warm when winter finally came)

But the really odd thing I found about the place was that bed 13 was a lone room, set dead centre of a corridor with a big gap on either side and heavy double doors, made of some dark wood, closing off that part of the ward from either of the two other side rooms and the multi-bed rooms further up the corridor, it was also the only room with a lock. A heavy, old fashioned, very ornate brass thing that only locked from the outside with a key, which was kept in a drawer in Sister’s office.

On my very first shift I was told not to trouble myself about the closed room as they never put patients in it, that they used it as a place to store broken equipment before the estates team came to take it to their workshop for repairs and in any case, it was kept locked for the majority of the time. And so I didn’t trouble myself about it, quickly learnt to forget about it, as if it didn’t exist at all. That is, until I did the night shift sometime in mid-November.

Now, I never minded doing the night shift, it was usually quiet, I got on well with the other night staff and this particular shift had started off normally enough, I arrived, put my things away and found the list of patients we’d have for the night where Irene, the other Ward Assistant, had left it for me in a sealed envelope, pinned to the cork message board in the staff changing room. The lights were flickering madly again but, like the door to 13 being locked, you soon got used to it, just another one of those things. I had no idea what was in store for me that night. About an hour into my shift, with the patients safely tucked into their beds, the Night Sister in the office with the ward phone and her paperwork for company and the staff nurse taking her coffee break, I was sitting alone at the small rickety wooden desk that served as the nurse’s station, filling in some order forms for ward supplies when, out of nowhere a voice called:

"Hello!"

I looked up and around, expecting to see a patient with a plea for help getting to the toilet, but found that there was no one except me in the corridor. Before I could get up to explore where the voice came from I heard it again, louder and more urgent this time.

‘Hello!”

That’s when I noticed that the door to Bed 13 was ajar. Feeling puzzled, I wondered if something had changed since my shift yesterday. There was nothing on my paper copy of the patients list and no one had mentioned that the room was in use when I came on duty, but I supposed it was possible that the “Powers that Be” had declared the room had to be used, the hospital was notoriously short of beds after all, and now I couldn’t recall if it had been open when I’d arrived. So I stood up from the desk, walked up to the room and called,

“Hello?”

“Hello!” the voice called back, “Please!”

Well, that confirmed it for me, there was a patient in there and since there was no sign of the Night Sister or the Staff Nurse, I’d have to go and check, it was probably just a request for some painkillers or a bedpan.

“OK,” I called “I’m coming”

I pushed at the door cautiously and it opened wide, smoothly and silently, with not even the slightest creak from the hinges. As the door opened the smell of damp and decay hit me in a great wave. Normally I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, having become used to the smell from Block 5 by now, but this scent had something extra. The smell of damp and decay was joined by something strange, a sickly sweet smell so strong that I almost gagged at it, but a patient was in distress and it was my job to check on them. I stood in the doorway and looked into the room. It was dark in there, so very dark, the room was just barely lit by an odd red glow that hurt my eyes as they adjusted to the gloom. I could just about make out a bed in the centre of the room and that there was someone lying on it. I moved towards the bed and as I did so, the foul smell got stronger the closer I got. It wasn’t a big room but every step seemed to take forever.

“Are you OK? Do you need something?” I asked as I approached the bed……and stopped, my heart began hammering in my chest as I looked in horror at the body on the bed. Maybe at one point the thing that lay on it had been a human, but not now. Now it was just a…..Thing!  A human-shaped, decomposing, nightmarish thing made up of bone and the tattered remains of flesh held together by old, stained bandages. The skin that was visible was covered in wounds and sores, oozing body fluids and putrid pus sticking torn clothing and the ragged remains of blankets to the Thing’s body. I had seen some horrific things in my time at St Caradog’s, I’d worked in the A&E for a few weeks and some of the things I’d seen there would enough to give anybody nightmares, but this...this stole my breath away completely. Who or what on Earth was this!  As I stood, motionless, utterly horrified at the sight, it turned its head towards me and struck out fleshless hands in my direction, hands that were only held together by filthy bandages and a few remaining tendons. Where its eyes should have been were covered by more filthy bandages. It was blind, I thanked God and knew I had to get out of that room. I tried to turn to leave when The Thing spoke,

“WHO ARE YOU?” it said in a voice that sounded as though it were made of multiple agonised voices, all screaming at once “YOU HEARD US! YOU CAN SEE US!”

Oh Shit!  It knew I was there!

“IT HURTS!” it wailed, “IT HURTS SO MUCH!” and, as it spoke, I felt the agony of a thousand people suddenly rip through me.  I can only describe it as... as though I’d been badly beaten up, as if every injury that could affect a human had been inflicted on me all at once. I hurt everywhere, I could barely move, barely stand, barely even see for the intense crippling pain that now wracked every inch of my body. The cloying smell of rotten, decomposing flesh filled my nose and mouth as the Thing began rocking the rusted metal rails of the bed as it tried to free itself, its eyeless face turned towards me all the while. I could feel the bile rising in my throat and I struggled not to be sick.

“LET US DIE!” the multitudinous voice screamed, showing me the blackened, ruined inside of its mouth as it did “PLEASE, JUST LET US DIE!”

Panic gripped me, I had to get out! I didn’t know what the Thing would do if it got off the bed or what it would do to me if it caught me, I only knew that I didn’t want to be caught! I just had to get out! I had to find my way to the door again! For some reason I thought that If I could only reach the door, if I could get back out into the corridor, that I would be safe!

I turned my head to look and gasped, the door was closed! When had it closed? I hadn’t heard it! That was it,I had to move! I tried to make my painful, useless legs move. I had to get out!

“Move! Move NOW!!” The thought inside my head screamed loudly but I was frozen, unable to move an inch, and I remained rooted to the spot, watching in horror as the thing continued trying to free itself.

“HELP US!” the voices were howling, desperate now, oh Christ, it was off the bed! Dragging the disgusting blankets with it, starting to advance, taller than the average person, arms flailing out in front, reaching out, still searching for me

“PLEASE! YOU CAN SEE US!   It screamed as it stumbled towards me."HELP US PLEASE!”

Then, suddenly, the door handle was pressing into my back. I still don’t know how or when I had actually moved, but oh thank God, somehow I had and I’d made it to the door!

I turned and grabbed at the handle, yanked on it as hard as I could and scrambled out into the corridor, into the light, away from the darkness of the room.  The Thing was just a hairsbreadth away as I sank to my knees in the corridor, pulling the door shut as I did so... and just like that, the sheer agony, the nausea and the stench of dead, infected flesh, it all suddenly faded away as if it had never been, except for my heart, which was hammering in my chest so hard that it hurt, I honestly thought it would break out of my ribcage.

“Are you OK?”  I looked up towards the source of the voice. The Night Sister was looking down at me, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I’m..,” the words stuck in my throat as I gulped the cleaner air of the ward corridor and slowly pulled myself up to my feet.

“You’re shaking,” she told me gently, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“I…”  I started to speak but hesitated, would she even believe me if I told her? Had I really seen it or was it all in my imagination? So, I shook my head and tried to smile, looking back now, it probably came out somewhat shakily and I’m surprised she believed me

“I’m fine, Sister. I was daydreaming and gave myself a fright that’s all”

She chuckled and shook her head at me, “you’ve been watching too many of those cheesy horror films you like,” she looked up at the ceiling with a small sigh, “these flickering old lights don’t help either, no wonder you’re imagining scary things.”

“Yes...that’s probably it.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I came to find you because I’ve just had the word that we have a new patient coming up from A&E in about 20 minutes, so I need you to go and make up bed 22”

“Yes, Sister,” I nodded at her, I could feel that my heart rate was beginning to return to normal, “Right away”

The Sister smiled and patted my shoulder before she walked away towards her office. Before I could move to go and get the bed clothes I needed for my new task, a sudden feeling of curiosity hit me. I don’t know why, but I had to know. With a shaking, hesitant hand, I reached out and tried the handle of the door to Bed 13.

What I found made my blood freeze in my veins - The door was very firmly and very definitely locked.